Final Interlude: Forever Victorious

The halls of Hollywood Arts were strangely quiet. My footsteps echoed up and down the empty corridor. I never knew sound carried so well in here. But I was almost never in here when it was empty, and certainly never with such a heavy heart or grim purpose.

Behind me, down the hall and a few turns away, the after-graduation party continued at the Asphalt Cafe. But I wasn't in the mood to party, not anymore. We had just wrapped up our final performance at the school, a cover of NeedtoBreathe's Shine On, as a little farewell gift to Cat and Sam. The pair had recently become a couple, had a major crisis, and pulled through it, all within the space of just a week. I had thought—hoped—that the drama surrounding the Final Showcase had been it for the year, but nope. Suddenly Jade was taking Cat to a big audition in New York and buying plane tickets so Sam and I could join them and patch things up.

Have you ever shared a plane ride with someone you barely know, with fewer social graces than Jade West, and who was obsessing over your best friend? It's awkward. I was glad Carly Shay had gone too, although it made me feel kind of like a third wheel. Okay, a nerdy third wheel who was geeking out about flying cross-country with the girls from iCarly. But still…

It all worked out, though, as these things tend to do. Everything did, really. I had been accepted into the Berklee College of Music. Beck was heading to Florida, Robbie to Las Vegas, Sam and Cat to New York, Carly back to Italy, and Andre was off to Seattle to work with a record label at the end of the summer. Jade was the only one staying in LA, though she refused to tell anyone why or what she would be doing here. The rumor around the school was that her mother had kicked her out and she was going to live with her father, but that sounded kind of crazy. I didn't put much faith in rumors anyway.

So this was really it.

The echoes of what would probably be my final footsteps in Hollywood Arts faded as I came to a stop in front of my locker. The screwdriver in my hand felt heavy, as if it knew the weight of the task it was about to perform.

That's a silly thought, of course. It was just a tool. Humans are the only ones who attach emotional sentiments to inanimate objects and things and ceremonies.

Like endings. Or locker doors.

The stars cast a soft light in the otherwise darkened hallway. I'd grown so fond of this stupid door. It had stressed me out my first week here, when my new friends told me it was a requirement that I decorate it. I had no idea how to do that. I didn't even consider myself a creative person at that point. I was just some nerdy girl who fell ass-backward into an opportunity I didn't deserve. How was I supposed to know my creative self so intimately that I could represent it in a tangible way on the door of a metal locker? Ugh.

But one of the perks of being a nerdy girl is that I was smart; a fast learner. I had learned another lesson that week too, about being comfortable with my own creative choices (stupid bird scene). And so, I made a creative choice: I took inspiration from the only creative thing I'd ever done at that point, the song I sang to get into the school, and decorated my door based on that. I loved seeing everyone's faces when I flipped the switch and the stars lit up.

Now, three years later, I flipped the switch once again. But this time, the stars went out. Helen had given me her blessing to take the door with me as a reminder of my time at this amazing school. Of course, I'd always have the intangibles; the lessons learned, the friendships made. But something about this door, this song, this message meant a lot to me.

I was surprised, and a little disappointed, how easily the door came free. A few turns of the screwdriver and it was in my hands, ready to go to its new home in my dorm at Berklee.

I couldn't imagine not being here every day. Not seeing these halls or smelling the weird processed air. Not getting questionable lunches from Festus's food truck or hearing Sikowitz's deep baritone every day. No more plays in the Black Box Theater. No more shruggers or random people dancing on the steps. No more Friday Night Concerts at the Asphalt Cafe or film collaborations with narcissistic alumni.

Great, now I've got something in my eye.

I didn't want to admit that it was a tear. As easy as it was to deny the first one, the ones that followed were a little tougher.

"Hey, Tori."

Cat appeared next to me. She must have come in the same way I did, from the cafe. I turned from her to wipe my eyes. I didn't want her to see me so sad. It would make her sad, and I hated seeing her pretty face sad.

"Hi."

"Whatcha doing?"

I held up my door to hide my face for another few seconds. I think I got them all. "I asked Helen if I could keep it."

"That's a good idea. I love that door."

"Me too."

I lowered the door, and Cat's dark eyes went right to my cheeks. Her lower lip jutted. "Were you crying?"

"No," I said quickly. "No, I just got something in my eye when I was singing, that's all."

She moved closer to me and suddenly her hand was on my cheek. "You got lots of things in your eye, and they're all tears."

I pulled away, partly because I still hoped to salvage the situation and keep her from crying, and partly because her hand on my cheek was like pure electricity.

Wow. That was…um…wow.

I didn't have long to contemplate it; footsteps that definitely weren't mine echoed down the hall from behind me. Jade West descended the stairs like royalty, her head high, her steps slow and measured. She seemed distracted, as if she were doing what I had been doing and bidding farewell to the school. When she saw Cat and me standing there, she scowled. Well, not so much when she saw Cat. Mostly me.

"I just can't get away from you, can I? Even in an empty school." There was an edge to her voice, but it was softer than usual. Even playful.

"Nope," I affirmed. "I'll haunt you forever."

"Please don't," she huffed. "As much as I'd love to be haunted, I can't imagine putting up with you forever." Something about her eyes belied the negativity. As if she didn't really think it would be the worst thing to happen.

Yeah, right. You're seeing things.

The front door opened and in stepped Beck. "There you are," he said to Jade. His girlfriend—I think? I gave up keeping track—turned to him with more than a hint of her customary irritation that he even existed.

If I live to be five hundred, I swear I'll never understand those two as a couple.

"Yeah," Jade grumbled. "Here I am."

"Once again," Cat sang.

Jade's head snapped to her. "No!" She took a breath and shot Cat an apologetic look. "Please. I've heard enough of that song to last the rest of my life."

Patience? Well, that's a new feature, I thought.

From behind us, a few more sets of footsteps echoed. "I told you they came in here," Andre said.

"Well, I didn't think we were allowed," Robbie huffed.

"What are they gonna do, kick us out?" Trina added.

And suddenly, there we all were. Our friend group, in our hallway, in front of our lockers. A place that had seen us at our best and our worst. Shopping sprees and Christmas carols and crazy ex-students and fake muggings and so much more. Even though there were suddenly twice the number of people, the silence was thicker than when I had been alone.

"I feel like someone should say something. You know?" My sister was right. The silence felt so awkward.

"What can we say?" Andre asked. "I mean…this is it."

Three years of memories all converged in my brain at once. So much had happened. So much change and growth. And it all began here. In this school. In an improv class.

And then it hit me. I looked over at Andre and smiled.

"Apples are falling out of my butt."

His answering smile told me he caught on. "But Tori, this could be the last time we're together for a while." He put an emphasis on the "b" signaling to whoever wanted to jump in next as to what we were doing.

Alphabetical Improv.

Robbie caught on. "Can we still be friends, do you think?"

Cat's eyes lit up as she realized what we were doing. "Don't be silly…just because some of us are leaving."

Next up was Beck, who had caught on earlier but seemed to be waiting for the right moment. "Even if that's the case, we can still try to hang out." He squeezed his arm around Jade.

"Forget that, I'm deleting you all from my phone," she said with a smile.

"Good riddance," Trina said, jumping in with a smirk of her own.

"Hey, now, be nice," I said, glaring at those two.

"I agree," said Andre.

"Just try to be positive for once," Robbie said in a voice that took me a minute to place; it was his motivational speaker from our sleepover at Sikowitz's, Kevin Cornbloom.

"Kindness is free, after all," Cat added.

Beck turned back to Jade. "Lucky for you we have such great friends."

Jade huffed. "My goodness, take a joke, people."

"Now she's joking?" Trina asked.

"Obviously, can't you see her smiling?" I pointed out.

"Possibly," Andre agreed.

"Quirky girl, that Jade," Robbie added.

"Really quirky, but also really sweet," Cat said. Something passed between her and Jade that I didn't quite understand. But Jade almost smiled in response.

"So true," Beck added, kissing Jade on the cheek.

"Time to focus on someone else," Jade groused, but she didn't seem to mean it. I think she enjoyed the fuss she created.

"Umm…I admit, I'm a little scared," Trina said, breaking the light-heartedness with a bit of sobering reality. "What will we become once we're out of here?"

Trina had voiced the one thing that was on all of our minds. But it was okay. I had an answer.

"Victorious," I said. My voice cracked, but I pressed onward. "No matter where we go, or how much we change…so long as we're friends, we'll always be victorious."

The emotion of the moment was too much. We tried to hide it with humor, with silliness, with detached apathy…but my lone tear started a flood that brought the seven of us into each other's arms. It was a horribly awkward hug and it only lasted for a few seconds. But in those few seconds, it was all we needed.

Someone cleared their throat. Sam Puckett stood at the door. "We gotta go, kid," she said to Cat.

"Kay, kay." Cat took her final look around. "Goodbye, school. I'll miss you." Then she slid her arm through Sam's and left.

"I should go too," Robbie said. "Early flight and all."

"I'll walk out with you," Trina said.

"Really?"

"Don't make it weird, Shapiro." She turned to me. "See you at home."

Robbie waved awkwardly at us and disappeared out the front door right behind my sister.

I felt Andre's hand on my back. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said. "We can hang out. I may need to write some music or something about all these damn feelings." I nodded and smiled and watched as the night beyond the door stole him from sight.

"I'll go get the car," Beck said, planting a kiss on Jade's cheek. He turned and extended a hand in my direction in kind of a lazy wave. "Good luck at Berklee. Not that you'll need it."

Suddenly it was just Jade and me. She walked to the door without even looking at me…but suddenly stopped. Turned.

She glared at me, the same kind of glare she'd given me a thousand times since the day I walked through that door. Angry and condescending, as if she wanted to reach out and slap me in the face. But then…it changed. Into a smile. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, warm smile.

She opened her mouth to say something…but then stopped. It dawned on me just how much I was going to miss her. More than anyone else, Jade West had pushed me, inspired me, scared the crap out of me, frustrated me…she made me feel more alive than anyone I'd ever known. I'd give anything to have realized that sooner, to have had that context and maybe a chance for things to be different between us. But it was too late. Our time was over.

I smiled back at her, and I swear hers got just a little bigger. She nodded to herself as if laughing at some private joke. Then she was gone.

I was alone again, holding my locker door. Suddenly, it felt heavy. Unnecessary. As if its weight was keeping me here.

Maybe those intangibles were enough. Maybe the people who just walked out that door, and all we had experienced together, would sustain me in the future.

Maybe the door was just a door after all.

I glanced back at the block of lockers where mine had been. Saw the empty hole it left. But I realized that even though it hurt to leave…I wasn't empty. I was full. Full of love for my friends. Full of their strength and the memories we built together. Full of a lifetime of lessons learned and bonds forged within these walls. And those things would stay with me—with all of us—our entire lives. Whatever the future held…careers. Marriage. Family. We were who we were, and we would become who we would become, because of this place. Because of each other.

It took just a few moments to re-attach the door. I laid the screwdriver inside and closed my locker for the last time. In a few months, someone else would open it and probably wonder why there was a screwdriver sitting there. Maybe it would inspire them to think about who might have left it and what their experience had been here at Hollywood Arts.

I ran my hand down the smooth, cool door, all the way to the little power switch. Suddenly, the stars were alive again, casting their gentle glow and making the darkened hallway a little brighter.

"Shine on," I said softly.

I walked out the door, sad for what I left behind, but excited for whatever was to come.