This is it. Today is the day. Graduation.

I feel surprisingly ready, and confident. Maybe it’s the awesome outfit Garret suggested. Maybe it’s the fact that Ben is here, and Victor is currently face-timing to get in on the action. Maybe it’s just because I have more confidence as a whole.

@HRHPrincessAnna: This is it. I’m graduating! I made it!! #Classof2012 #SEN1OR2

“I can’t believe it,” dad shakes his head as we stand outside the car, getting ready to split up. He affectionately flicks the tassel hanging from my cap. “I don’t just have one kid graduating high school now—I have three.”

“Quite an accomplishment, dad,” Alec quips. “Come on, Anna we’re gonna be late!”

I have little time to react before the twins are speed-walking towards the auditorium entrance. With a roll of my eyes, I quickly say goodbye and try to catch up with them.

“Hey, I’m wearing heels, give me a break!” I shout to them. They slow down a bit so I can catch up, which I thank them for. These three inch heels aren’t that tall but they’re still killing the balls of my feet.

I hear Marc and Gabe chuckle as they easily keep up with my wobbly jogging. Marc comments, “You know, Princesses are supposed to be masters at walking in heels.”

“Shut up, Marc,” I grumble. 

“You ready for the media storm that’s waiting for us when we head downtown for dinner?” Adam asks suddenly with a raise of his eyebrows.

With a shrug, I honestly admit, “For once I can say… I honestly am.”

Smiling and joking, we enter the auditorium and split up to find our friends. Soon we’ll be back together because of our last names, but until then we’re given time to mingle with our friends and show off our hand-crafted caps and any honors sashes we’ve received.

I show off the same ones as Ashlyn and the girls. We’re all graduating with Honors & Distinction, which means we get the gold ropes instead of the white ones for regular Honors. We also have the blue National Honor Society ropes hanging around our necks. However, Sami and I are the only ones with the green stoles for graduating in the top twenty. I just made it, being fifteenth. But hey, fifteen out of two-hundred and seventy-something students? That’s good enough for me. I’m only mad that my months spent as a royal knocked me down from my twelfth place spot that I had in the fall semester. That, and I was literally ten points away from becoming an SAT scholar. That damn math portion was murderous.

“Can you believe Erica didn’t even make honors and she still got all those scholarships?” Sami whispers, glancing Erica’s way. 

It’s no secret that Erica’s family is prominent in this town, but we had no idea how prominent. She got nearly every single one of the town-wide scholarships on awards night. It had everyone in an uproar. From my point of view, being away from this town for days at a time, it was slightly humorous. I never realized how strange we appear to outsiders like Ben and Victor; Gabe and Marc.

“I don’t want to believe it,” I admit. “But hopefully karma takes care of that family.”

“Karma won’t help me pay my thirty-grand a year tuition,” Sami replies bitterly. “I wish I lived in an European country like yours. Don’t you guys have free college over there?”

I nod, “And if you go to a private university you don’t have to pay back loans until you have a job earning over a certain amount of money every year. It’s a good system—but you know American politicians will never admit that they’re doing things the wrong way.”

“True, very true,” she agrees.

“Hey! I love your cap, Anna!” Maddie suddenly appears beside us, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at my glittery, photo-collage of a cap. I take it off so she can get a better look at it in all it’s glory. Me and the girls got together last week and did ours. I suitably picked a glittery theme with a tiny foam tiara and pictures of us from freshman to senior year.

“Oh, there I am!” She points to the picture she’s in and grins. “Awesome miniature tiara by the way.”

“Why thank you, it’s from the crown jewels,” I joke. It’s such a cliche and expected comment, but Maddie laughs anyway.

“Alright, alright! Settle down! Let’s all get into our lines! Hey! McNally I see you mocking me! Cut the crap!” Principal Andersen is chipper as always I see. He interrupts our conversation about the photographers that keep trying to sneak their way in through the cross-country team’s trail in the woods. Our police force is out in full swing today anyways, so thankfully they’ve taken care of most of the stray paps.

Once we’re all organized into our two lines I’m reunited with Alec and Adam. We take a moment to recognize the huge gravity of the situation.

“We’re actually graduating. I can’t believe this is happening,” Adam, always the more introverted, thoughtful of the two, says quietly.

I nod in agreement. “It’s certainly been a long, hard year, hasn’t it?”

“Long hard few months is what you meant,” he chuckles lightly. “But I feel even more proud knowing that we got through that whole bit without any major catastrophes.”

“You can say that again,” Alec chimes in. “Cheers to us for not punching any photographers or news reporters in the face.”

“It’s actually a pretty big accomplishment,” I shrug.

It is. I’m so proud of not just myself, but my whole family for making it through this… thing. So much has happened to them, and I can’t believe how well they handled it; the press; the chaos; the constant media annoyances. The events of the past few months have not just shown me how strong I can be, but how strong my family is.

Blinking back tears as we begin our long walk out to the football field, I take the quiet time to admire this place. Truthfully, it was more like a home than a high school. I’ve spent more time here at classes, after school at clubs and on the weekends for dance team practice than I have at home. At least, it feels that way. 

Here is what I’ve always known up until this past December. And I don’t just mean this high school. I mean this town. This is all the home I’ve known since I was a toddler. Here is where I met my best friends; it’s where I rode my bike with my brothers down the small suburban streets and down woody paths. This town is where I was brought up surrounded by people who cared; the kind of small town folk that are sometimes nosy and overbearing but still genuinely care about each other. These streets are where I roamed as a pre-teen, with the local girls and boys playing massive, neighborhood-wide games of hide-and-go-seek. And the houses on those streets? I’ve probably been in more than half of them. Block parties and 4th of July celebrations were the norm and everyone in town was invited. 

But I won’t be here for those parties this year. I’ll be hundreds of thousands of miles away in Europe. And yes, I’ll be with Ben and yes, I’ll still Skype with my family every day I can—but the thought of leaving this place is still saddening. I spent all last night trying to go to sleep without success. All the chaos that’s going to take place in the coming weeks is making me anxious.

I’ll be leaving. Permanently. And while I’m happy to start this new chapter in my life; excited to finally be recognized as being back in the royal circle and officially a full-time royal… I’m still struggling with the conflicted emotions.

I always liked coming to school. But over the past several months my appreciation for this place came to a completely different level. It was a sanctuary of sorts, providing a shield from the relentless media frenzy in the outside world. The high fences and isolated area on the side of a small mountain made it like a fortress—a fortress that I gladly retreated to when things got bad.

Now I supposed I’ll have an actual fortress to hide in. A few, actually. I’ve been told I’ll be moving in with Ben into a suite beside his childhood one in St. Agnes Palace in the capital of Vladesvya. My Uncle Piotr and Aunt Beata have been given charge of Seraphim Palace in Chirnova for now. And of course, Ben has promised to take me out to the vacation castle in Baltiysk sometime this summer for a relaxing weekend.

That’s all well and good, but our lives will be far from a vacation for the next few months. We’ve got a lot of time to make up; engagements to catch up on; state visits to go to. The day after I get settled in we start a tour around both countries; a sort of ‘welcome home tour’ for me. Then, Kassy has said, we’re going on our first two state visits representing Victor in Russia and then in Jordan. After those fun thousand mile trips, we skip back to Europe—Prague, specifically, for the International Youth Leadership Conference.

Just thinking about all the rest of the things we have to do before we head off to London for the olympics scares the crap out of me—never mind all the preparations for the wedding in October. I’ve said before that I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but Ben is damn confident we’ll be alright. I really have no choice but to believe him.

“Here we go!” One of the teachers chaperoning the lines shouts. Everyone grows silent as we walk through the fence and past all the people that didn’t get here early enough to get inside.

Banners, streamers, ribbons and an assortment of decorations cover every inch of space on the fence surrounding the track and field. Their green and white colors look cheerful and peppy in the blinding afternoon sun. The cheers of friends and family filling the seats on the field and the stands start to stir; screams and whoops echo across the vast space. Student’s names are shouted as we finally walk through the track entrance, and I can see white poster boards floating above people’s heads.

“Wooo! Anna!” 

Adrian. Always the obnoxious sibling. I recognize that whooping voice anywhere.

My eyes squint as I try to find my family. I have no idea what the seating is like, so I’m at a loss when it comes to searching for them after the ceremony is over. It’ll be chaos. But on the upside, I’m used to chaos by now.

The band’s playing of Pomp and Circumstance gets unbelievably loud as we walk down the center aisle and start to get situated. I’m squished between Alec and Stephen Holland, captain of the cross country team and a former crush of mine from junior year. The three of us exchange nervous smiles and glances before focusing our attention on Principal Andersen, who’s desperately struggling to gain the entire population in attendance to pay attention to him.

Poor guy should get some speaking advice from Victor and Ben.

“Welcome! Family, friends, honored and distinguished guests! It’s wonderful to see you here on a such an important day in these students lives!”

His incessant yelling into the microphone is already starting to piss each everyone off. Usually it’s a source of humor for us, but now that we’re also sweaty, hot and squished together like sardines… well, now it’s just plain annoying.

Cutting to the chase, Andersen says, “Now, I won’t dawdle anymore than I already have. We’ve got some people here that would like to speak so without further or due, please give a warm welcome to our guest speaker, Mrs. Elizabeth Lenham—East Creek native and now president of the Red Cross of Maine!”

The whole stadium erupts into applause and whistling as the thirty-something year old alumni walks up to the podium. Her speech is exactly what we all expected; a collection of heartfelt well wishes, some good old-fashion life advice and a dash of humor. But truthfully, myself and the others around me aren’t paying attention to a damn thing. Not even our class president or valedictorian can snap us from our thoughts. It’s not just me staring into space, lost in my own head. It’s my brother beside me, and all my friends around me.

We’re all reflecting, I can see that. But another emotion that runs like an electric current through row after row of students is fear. Not the horror movie kind; the kind that likes to masquerade as just plain nervousness. 

No one in this graduating class will admit it, and neither will I, but we’re all terrified. You can see it in their faces and their body language. Even I’m giving myself away, and I’ve had professional training to keep my emotions in check.

We’re all terrified of the unknown, and graduating from high school is one of the biggest unknowns there is in a person’s life. Where do we all go from here? College. Ok, but what about our friends? Will we see each other again? What’s life going to be like not coming to this place every day? Not seeing the same faces? Who will we see? Will we even make new friends, more connections with people? 

This might be more terrifying than a horror movie, to be honest. A guy in a ski mask has nothing on the yawning chasm that is life after high school.

“Dylan Penskey—ranked twentieth in his class, graduating with honors and as a National Honor Society Scholar!”

P. They’re getting close to my last name. Just a few more P’s, a couple of Q’s and then the R’s.

I can’t believe how fast my heart is racing. I’m used to being in the public eye by now, but for some reason that stage is more daunting than any others I’ve faced. I’ve been less nervous about press conferences than I am about walking across that stage. I mean, what if I trip? It’ll be the headline of every cheap tabloid that buys a picture from someone with a cell phone camera.

I just keep telling myself to focus on walking. The hand shaking is easy, and even the small talk is manageable. 

“Elaine Rasvet!”

“Stand up,” my row’s chaperone, Mr. Connelly whispers to the person at the end of the row. So we do, and seconds later we’re making our way towards the same place that all the other students ahead of us were, waiting for our diplomas and the mediocre ballpoint pens that the Mayor gives all the graduating classes every year.

I never thought I’d be so excited to get one of those crappy things, but now that I’m standing here—I just really want that pen. It’s almost a bigger symbol of graduating here in East Creek than the actual diploma.

Or maybe I’m just trying to focus on something other than that stage and those people—and those news cameras, and those newspaper photographers and writers… yeah, I’m just trying to cope.

“Congratulations, AnnaMaria,” Mr. Connelly says, giving me a nod. He was my homeroom advisor for the past four years, so I figure he felt the need to say something.

With a nervous grin, I reply, “Thanks.”

He leaves it at that, because two seconds later they’re calling my name and I can’t believe this is actually happening.

It feels like a dream sequence in a movie when Principal Andersen says, “AnnaMaria Romanoff, ranked fifteenth in her class, graduating with Honors & Distinction, and as a National Honor Society Scholar!”

My body is on autopilot as I walk across the rickety stage, wobbling a bit in my heels. My leg muscles strain to keep me straight and tall as I reach Principal Andersen, taking the diploma and shaking his hand first. He locks eyes with me and nods, “Congratulations, Your Highness.”

That’s what snaps me from my foggy state. I let out a short burst of laughter before replying, “It’s still just AnnaMaria over here, Mr. Andersen.”

He chuckles as I reach for the Vice Principal’s hand and she points out, “Hey, at least your diploma only says your American name.”

I release a relieved chuckle and nod, “At least.”

“Congrats, Miss. Romamoff,” the mayor smiles brightly, giving my hand a good shake. Then, he hands me that damned pen.

I hold it up and comment, “I’ll keep it in my office.”

He gets a good bought of laughter for that. I feel accomplished that I’ve made the whole lineup on stage break out into laughter. 

They probably don’t know it, but I’m not lying. Odds are this pen will end up in my personal office, sitting right next to the pens gilded in gold and filled with expensive Indian inks. He’s given me one more happy reminder of this town to fill my future home in St. Agnes’s Palace.

As soon as I shake the last person’s hand, I’m bolting down the stairs and desperately trying to ignore the photographers snapping away at me. Only when I’m back at my seat do I feel more comfortable—comfortable enough to laugh and joke with the people around me without fearing a photographer catching me making a horrible face or stupid body movement.

I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. 

“Anna!” Mom, dad and the family shout in unison as I look their way. I found them just a few minutes ago, and they keep acting like every other obnoxious family on this field; waving and wooing every time I wave back at them.

The closing speech is given by the teacher we voted for. Mr. Johansen. He’s everyone’s favorite in my graduating class, so it was pretty much unanimous. His speech echoes the same sentiments of every other speaker here today.

But then he does something very different.

“You know, Robert Orben once said: A graduation ceremony is an event where the commencement speaker tells hundreds or thousands of students dressed in identical caps and gowns that ‘individuality’ is the key to success.”

The entire stadium heaves a collective chuckle as he continues by saying, “Well, I’m not going to tell you that. Success is a complicated thing. It can be achieved differently by everyone. Sometimes the key to success in a career is to blend in with everyone else; sometimes it may be to adapt yourself. The truth is, there is no set key to success. You all have to figure out your own game plan for the future, and mold it into something that will help you achieve your aspirations.”

His words must strike a chord with the crowds, because the field and grounds beyond it fall nearly silent.

“I know it sounds like a lot of weight on your shoulders,” he admits, taking in the silence. With a deep breath he adds, “But with the help of your families and your friends, your future professors and advisors… the weight will be no more than that of your backpacks… which will most likely also be close to crushing your spine but—.”

The whole crowd erupts into laughter again. But this time, I see tears as well—even from guys surrounding me. 

Then I realize the blur in my eyes are tears too.

Alec grabs my hand, suddenly and tightly. He gives it a good squeeze before pulling away and dabbing at his own eyes. We share a tearful glance before turning to listen to Mr. Johansen’s final statements.

“Be yourselves, be strong and be brave. Listen to your elders, your peers and your own heart; your own brain. Take in everything. Life isn’t about being constantly scared of the future, no matter how unknown it is—it’s about pushing forward without hesitation and going after what you want.”

The tightness in my throat is unbearable as I swallow down tears. I never thought I would get emotional, but I’ve guessed wrong about myself before.

“With that, it is my honor to address the Class of 2012 and to announce their graduation from East Creek High School. Congratulations! You made it!”

Cheers erupt. Students fly from their seats and fling their caps in the air. Flashes of cameras go off like strobe lights all around us as we hug each other. Status doesn’t matter now. We hug people we would normally snub and high-five peers that we would usually ignore. It’s complete and utter jubilation, even when we gather our caps and