A/N: Okay, two things here. One, graduation can mark the next chapter in a person's life. In this case, it not only marks the end of this story, but also this miniseries. And two, my class carried red roses at our graduation to honor our guidance counselor, who had died of a stroke early in the school year.
CHAPTER 10: June—Kristy
It was the night before graduation, and we were at my graduation party: Claud, Mary Anne, Stacey, Abby, Logan, Jason, and I. We were in the living room, kneeling around the coffee table, which had our food and drinks on it.
"Wow, I can't believe that tomorrow's graduation," Claud said, taking a bite of her pepperoni roll. "In the famous words of Henry Higgins, thank God it's all over."
"Yeah, I hear you," Abby agreed. "By the way, I don't know where your slippers are, so don't ask."
Naturally, it got a big laugh. "Oh, I got an e-mail from Dawn," Mary Anne said as she pulled herself together.
"Really?" I asked. "How's she doing?"
"Oh, she's doing all right," Mary Anne answered, taking a bite of mung chowder gumbo. "She and Sunny got accepted at New Mexico State."
"Really? That's great," Stacey said, taking a bite of her ham sandwich.
"So, are you guys ready for graduation tomorrow?" I asked Logan and Jason.
"Aye," Jason answered, taking a bite of noodles. "You know, I just wish that Granny was alive to see this, and I also wish I could tell her about everything that's happened since I moved here."
"I'm sure she'd be really proud of you, Jason," Claudia said. I could tell she was wishing Mimi could be there. I don't know why, but part of me was wishing that Dad was alive to see this. The only question is, would he have showed up?
"Oh, on a more upnote," Claudia went on as she reached for her Diet Rite. "Have any of you ever heard of the Chicago Art Institute?"
"Is that where you're going?" Abby asked.
Claud grinned and nodded. "I got the acceptance letter in the mail today. I can't believe it, either, especially since I got such crappy grades in school."
"Way to go, Claud!" Logan said, patting her shoulder. "Are you going to start rooting for the Bulls, Bears, or Cubs now?"
"I doubt it, especially since I'm not into sports. That's Kristy's department."
"A toast to our future," Stacey said, raising her Diet Coke.
"And what about to absent friends?" Abby asked, in a Frank N. Furter voice, as we laughed.
The next afternoon, we arrived at SHS for the graduation. "Well, this is it," I told my friends as I put on my cap and gown.
"I guess so," Jason agreed.
We lined up, were given our roses to honor Mrs. Evanson—which we were told we could keep afterward—and soon, the ceremony got underway. When the first strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" began, Mary Anne began to sniffle softly.
Also, I could be wrong, but as we were making our way into the gym, I think I heard Alan Gray singing, "Pomp and ci-ir-cum-sta-ance, pomp and ci-ir-cum-sta-ance..." Normally, Alan is the single most immature person who ever lived, but even I had to laugh at that.
We took our places, and Emily Bernstein, who's not only the valedictorian, but also the class president, led everyone in the Pledge of Allegiance and the prayer before we took our seats. After Mr. D'Amato gave his welcome speech, the choir stood up to sing.
"I sing the bo-dy e-lec-tric," Erica Blumberg sang. "I ce-le-brate the me yet to come; I toast to my own re-un-ion when I be-come one with the su-un..."
Let me tell you, Erica has a GREAT voice. In fact, she told me that last month, she auditioned for a spot at the Mannes College of Music in New York, and was accepted into their vocal music program there in the fall. After she graduates from there, she's going to audition for the Metropolitan Opera.
As we sang with the choir, I looked out of the corner of my eye, and saw Mary Anne getting misty-eyed. Keep it together, Mary Anne, I thought. I know you'll miss us, but don't you dare fall apart on me.
After the choir finished singing and took their seats, the speeches got underway. Emily Bernstein gave the valedictorian's address.
"Well, we made it!" she announced. "Graduation day. For thirteen years, we've grown up together and had a lot of fun, not to mention those not-so-perfect moments. And I'm not naming names, either."
Bless you, I thought.
"On a more personal note, I'd like to say a few words to a very dear friend of ours who's no longer with us." While she was speaking, a beach ball sailed through the air and landed on the podium. Emily took it and said, "Thanks, I'll be needing this over the summer."
There was some laughter, then Emily set the beach ball down beside her, brushed her tassel out of her face, and continued, "Amelia, wherever you are, we just want you to know that the garden we planted is still there, and it still looks as fresh as it did when it was first planted. Also, we miss you, we love you, and we'll..." Her voice started to break slightly, but she was able to pull herself together, "...never forget you."
After Emily sat down, Grace Blume gave the salutatorian's address, which concluded with her reciting the lyrics to "You'll Never Walk Alone" from Carousel. Unfortunately, that's when the Silly String and bubbles started flying. A whole wad of Silly String landed in Cokie Mason's lap, so she grabbed it and threw it into the aisle. I saw a little bit in her hair, so I leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Cokie, you never looked better."
Finally, it was the moment we'd all been waiting for: getting our diplomas. "Mr. Superintendent, members of the school board, I'd like to announce that the following individuals have completed all the requirements for graduation, and are now ready to receive their diplomas," Mr. D'Amato addressed them. When he called me by my full name—which I loathe-I went up, got my diploma, and just for fun, gave him my signature arm-punch. "Give 'em hell, kid," he laughed, doing the same.
After we got our diplomas and turned our tassels, Mr. D'Amato presented our class, and some of us threw our caps into the air. Upon seeing this, King, Alan, and Pete imitated machine guns and pretended to shoot at the caps like they were sitting ducks. Miranda Shillaber leaned over to me and whispered, "Can you say the A-Team?"
"Yeah, really," I agreed.
After the ceremony, Mom and Watson approached me. "We're so proud of you, honey," Mom said, giving me a hug.
"Thanks, Mom," I said.
"Are you ready for college?" Watson asked.
"Yeah," I answered. Truthfully, I was scared shitless, because I was going to be about a thousand miles from home.
"Well, I'll see you back at the house. I've got to find some of my friends," I said at last.
"All right," Mom said. Then she and Watson walked off.
I was looking for Mary Anne when I saw Claudia talking to Trevor Sandbourne, her seventh-grade boyfriend—before she had to repeat it, that is. "Well, we made it," she said.
"Yup. Well, Claud, I wouldn't call what we've been through fun, but I'm glad we went through it together."
"Yeah, me, too. Remember when the Baby-sitters Agency tried to put us out of business?"
"Is that why you wore those sandwich boards to school?" Trevor asked.
"Unfortunately, yes," Claud said. "And the best part is, we never have to go through that again."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I think you girls looked kind of—what's the word?" Trevor wondered.
"Ridiculous?" I suggested.
"No, not really," Trevor said. Both of us could tell that he was trying to find the right word. "Aw, what the hell. At least you girls hung in there."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Well, I was just on my way to find Mary Anne," I said. And as luck would have it, guess who happened to come up beside me. "Well, speak of the devil!"
"I was coming to find you," she said.
"Get out of here!" we exclaimed at the same time. (If we were younger, we'd have to hook pinkies and say "jinx".)
After we finished laughing, Claudia turned to Trevor and said, "Well, see you."
"Yeah," Trevor agreed. "Good luck in Chicago."
"Thanks. And good luck in Denver."
And with that, they kissed. And a very long one, too. In fact, they took so much time that Mary Anne and I looked at our watches to see how much time had passed.
After they finished, Trevor said, very casually, "Well, see you."
"You, too," Claudia said, and Trevor walked off. The one thing that stuck out in my mind was that they both acted like nothing had happened.
Mary Anne and I took a walk to my car a few minutes later. It was kind of an emotional moment, because this would be one of the last times we'd see each other before we went off to college. Furthermore, she'd be in New York, and I'd be in Ohio.
"Don't worry, we'll see each other on our college breaks," I reminded her.
"I know," she said. "I also wanted to say that I never would've gotten through any of what I've been through in my life if it hadn't been for you."
"Really?" I asked. "Thanks."
"No, I mean it," Mary Anne went on. "If there's one thing you've got a lot of, it's guts."
"You've got them, too," I reminded her. "It must have taken quite a lot to show your dad that you're not a baby anymore. If you hadn't, you'd still be in pigtails and little girls' clothes, not to mention not having a boyfriend or a cat."
"That's true," Mary Anne agreed. "If Jenny Prezzioso hadn't gotten sick that day, and I hadn't called 911 and gotten her to the ER, that still would've been the case. And thank God for Dawn, too."
Even though I hate whenever Mary Anne brings that up, I couldn't help nodding.
"And let's not forget your leadership," Mary Anne added.
"Well, I hate to brag, but that's one of my strong points," I smiled.
"I'll say," Mary Anne agreed.
I don't know how long we stood there in silence, looking at the ground (and occasionally at each other), but it sure felt like the longest minute of my life. All I do know is how glad I was that Mary Anne finally spoke up.
"Look, I know that neither of us are big on good-byes, so I'll just go ahead and say it," she began. "You know, maybe you're right. Maybe we will see each other again. But just in case we don't, I just wanted you to know how much you've meant to me. I'll never be able to shake you. Whenever I see someone coaching a softball team or a kid getting into a fight, I'll think of you."
"And if I start crying whenever I watch a sappy movie, I'll think of you," I promised.
"Or if I see a girl in junior high walking a collie."
"Or a twelve-year-old girl in braids and a jumper."
"Deal," Mary Anne said after we finished laughing. "I'm really going miss you, Kristy."
"I'll miss you, too," I said. "A lot.I can't imagine what growing up in this town would've been like if I'd never found you here."
"Or if my grandparents in Iowa had kept me for good?"
"That, too."
"Anyway, I think it probably would've sucked, to tell you the truth."
"Mm-hm," I agreed. "Mary Anne, I promise I'll write and e-mail as often as possible."
"Me, too. Well, if anything, I'll have Logan to keep me company at college."
"And I'll have Jason."
That's when the dam finally burst. Normally, unlike Mary Anne, I don't cry very easily (and no, I don't have ice in my veins), but I sure was today. Honestly I think the last time I'd cried this much was when I got the news about Dad's death.
After we finished hugging and crying, Mary Anne turned toward her silver Camaro and fished her keys out of her pocket. "I'll see you over the holidays, Kristy," she said as she unlocked her car, took off her cap and gown, and got in. "But just in case I don't, I left you a note."
A note? I thought. What was she talking about? It wasn't until after she drove off that I looked over my shoulder, and that's when I saw a spotlessly white queen-size bedsheet on the side of the building. Written on it, in pink and purple sparkle-paint was the one word that said it all: GOOD-BYE.
Don't get me wrong—I'd really miss Mary Anne, but part of me couldn't help finding that note, as she'd called it, more than a little amusing. Okay, BJ, I thought as I shook my head and took off my cap and gown. I had to smile in spite of myself. In a way, it actually made me feel a little better about the whole thing.
As I tossed my cap and gown into the backseat and got in the car, all the while humming the M.A.S.H. theme, I knew that one chapter of our lives had ended, and another was about to begin.
THE END