The next day, I wake up before my alarm goes off; everyone else is still asleep. I can hear August snoring obnoxiously loud from here in my bedroom. Unfortunately, his bedroom is right next to mine, and what's even more unfortunate is he wanted to position his bed up against the same wall as mine, so the only thing separating the two of us is six inches of lousy drywall. Indonesia is sounding better and better.

Outside my window, the oak tree's limbs rustle and shake. I move to the edge of my bed and peer down to the ground—Aurora is climbing up the trunk. I slide the window open. "Need a little help there, Tarzan?"

She expertly grabs hold of one limb, pulling herself onto it, then repeats the process. "Nope. I need my upper-body workout for the day."

The oak tree is this big old thing, probably somewhere around fifty-years-old with strong limbs the size of telephone poles, all constructed upon a monstrous trunk. Each limb shrinks into small branches, which are clothed with healthy green leaves and cute little acorns this time of year. Aurora learned how to climb it when our third grade P.E. teacher put the fear of fire into us. Literally. It was the first time either of us had ever been in a fire drill and our teacher was explaining the importance of being able to climb out of second story buildings should it ever spontaneously combust into flames. Needless to say, climbing trees isn't my cup of tea; it's more Aurora's thing. But no matter how many "pretties" I put before "please", the teacher didn't allow me to be excused from the drill. I don't like admitting it, but that is one task I never did quite learn, so I had Aurora teach me using the oak tree. And even with her help, I never really got the hang of it. I have a nice battle scar on my left knee to prove it.

Aurora reaches the top of the tree and swings herself over the railing of my balcony, then moves through the pair of open French doors. She's already wearing her graduation crimson and gold cap and gown. Honestly, I'm impressed she was able to climb the tree while wearing that thing.

I shake my head and smile. "Ya know, there's this thing they invented called a front door. We have one of those. You should try using it."

She pulls her cap low over her eyes. "I prefer a more covert approach."

"What are you even doing here this early? Graduation isn't for another couple of hours."

"I know, I know, but I couldn't wait to give you this." She reaches inside her floral pattern messenger bag and withdraws a picture frame. Inside the frame is a photograph of the two of us; the one we took yesterday with her iPhone. The edging of the frame has words of BFFs, Love, Family, and, Sisters arranged in different places with fancy squiggly lines throughout. "I had mom print it last night."

"Aw, I love it! Thanks, Rora." I place it on the nightstand next to my alarm clock.

Pots and pans bang together from the kitchen. Mother must be making breakfast.

I turn back to Aurora. "Since you're here, why don't you stay for breakfast? You can ride to the ceremony with us."

"Sounds great! Wait. What's for breakfast?"

I shrug. "I dunno. Cereal. Maybe waffles."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. That's a pretty big difference there. Cereal is basically those curly, little wooden shavings left over from the pencil sharpener, while waffles—" She pauses and looks up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply. "Waffles is Heaven's way of letting us know it exists."

I laugh. "Waffles it is then!"

* * *

Downstairs, mother is standing in front of the stove with a bag of flour and a carton of eggs at her side. She looks up as we enter the room. "Good morning, McKenzie. Oh, Aurora! How nice of you to drop by."

"Mornin', Mrs. Barlow." She sits herself down at the breakfast table, grabbing a fork and knife as if she's ready to eat right away. "I was told there'd be waffles."

Mother looks at me inquisitively, and I smile sheepishly. "I may have told her you'd make waffles."

"Alright. But only because it's a special day."

I go ahead and fixed myself a small bowl of low-fat Greek yogurt with strawberries, while everyone else gorges themselves on sugary waffles. After we finished eating, it's nearly time for the bus to pick August up for school. He had complained throughout the duration of breakfast how it was unfair that I got to, as he put it, "skip out on school for the rest of my life", while he had to remain in school. I directly informed him that I wasn't "skipping school", but rather graduating, which is a sure sign of physical maturity; something he won't learn for many, many years. The fact that he still pretends his French fries are jousting sticks is proof.

Mother clears away the table and washes the dirty dishes, and father helps her with the drying. August, who's still griping about how he feels it's unfair that he will be the only one attending school henceforth, shuffles out the front door to catch the school bus.

Aurora, who's already wearing her graduation cap and gown, is all set to leave, but seating for the ceremony isn't opening for another forty-five minutes, so she insists that she flatiron my hair while we pass the time. Normally, I prefer to do my own hair, especially if I'm going to attend a public event, but I agree to Aurora's request.

I sit down in front of my makeup table and begin brushing the curls out of my hair. "Are your parents coming to the ceremony?" I say.

She heats up the flatiron; a bright smile is on her face. "Yes! And I'm so excited! It was touch-and-go because daddy wasn't sure if his work would give him time off, but they did. Both of them frequently tell me how terrible they feel for missing all of my cheerleading performances, but I just tell them not to worry. Work is more important."

"Must be hard not seeing them all that much."

"It is."

I thought she might say something thereafter, but she doesn't. Instead, she picks up the flatiron and begins to straighten my hair. The look on her face tells me she doesn't want to pursue the subject further, so I decide to leave the topic alone.

After an approximate twenty minutes, Aurora has ridden my hair of its curls. We debate whether I should part it on the left side of my head or the right. I choose the left. She chooses right. She wins. She tells me it looks more elegant if my hair flows over my left shoulder because of the way my face is shaped. It doesn't really look any different to me which side it's parted, but it seems to make her happy, so I agree to it.

Aurora rests her chin on my shoulder, her head laying against mine, as we gaze into the mirror at each other's reflection. "There! You're perfect," she says.

I turn my head from side to side, examining every angle. "What am I going to do without you while I'm away at college?"

"See, that's just it. With you and me, it's a forever kind of thing."

* * *

The ceremony is scheduled to take place outside on the football field, providing it doesn't rain. It's a little cloudy today; several dark clouds are congregating a few miles south of the school, but the wind is blowing in that direction, so hopefully it holds out. If not, the school has arranged for the gymnasium to be used for the ceremony. I really hope it doesn't rain, though. My hair will frizz out like crazy if it does. Humidity is the worst!

As we pull into the parking lot, Aurora clutches her stomach.

"You okay, Rora?" I say.

"We're really doing this, aren't we? We're graduating."

I nod and cup my hand around the side of her face. "This is the day we transform from girls to women."

We get out of the car and mother straightway wants pictures. "You girls look so beautiful! Stand together now. Smile!"

She uses her phone to take the picture, as if anyone carries an actual camera around these days. However, even after a year of having this phone, she still doesn't know how to use it properly. It's embarrassing how unadaptive she is when it comes to technology. I constantly have to show her how to zoom in, snap the photo, and where to find it in the gallery.

"Any day now, mother!" My cheeks are starting to hurt from holding this smile on my face.

"Right! I'm sorry, dears." She laughs nervously. "Old dog, new tricks. Now, smile!"

"We are!" My words are strained as I struggle to maintain this uber gorgeous smile. She finally takes the picture. That only stole five minutes of my life.

I hear the unmistakable sound of Xander's voice trickle across the parking lot. My first expectation is to see him dismounting from that motorcycle of his, but instead, I see him step out of a black SUV with his family. Oh! And he looks absolutely adorable in his cap and gown.

Much to my dismay, mother wants a few more pictures; some with her and me, others with father and me. Every few seconds, I look over at Xander, hoping he hasn't left the parking lot yet. I try hurrying along the family's Kodak moment. Normally, I would be all over this sort of thing—the camera loves me after all—but not right now. I want to catch up with Xander. I haven't had a chance to ask him if he would like to come to the cookout. I hope he doesn't already have plans.

Xander's mom loops her arm around him, his dad on the other side, and they walk toward the school. I don't want to lose him, so I just start heading in that direction myself, hoping mother, father, and Aurora will follow. To my surprise, they do.

In front of the school, the bronze statue of the Hawks mascot glimmers as the sun's rays reflect off its shiny surface. Shortly into my freshmen year, two guys from the nerd herd were forced into a pair of Blue Jays cheer uniforms and strung up by the Hawks' talons. They remained up there, helplessly swaying back and forth for a good thirty to forty minutes before the principal ordered someone to get them down. But by then, the damage was done. And thanks to this twenty-first century age where Smartphones and social media are used by all, those nerds will never escape the daily jeers and jesting that haunts them.

Xander passes through the school's entrance. I sprint to catch up with him. My brisk pace causes the tassel on my cap to repeatedly smack me in the face. Xander's dad holds the door open for me as I draw near. "After you, my dear." He smiles as he motions me inside. His smile looks almost identical to Xander's! I guess I know where he got it from.

It's kind of a surreal feeling knowing this will be the last time that I will ever set foot in these hallways, not that I'll miss them in the least. But it's still a weird feeling knowing that the very place I've spent a most of my teenage life with will no longer be relevant. A quick zigzag through the hallways and we emerge at the back of the school. The clouds are starting to disperse now and it looks as if it will be a perfect day.

To my left is the running track, which, seemingly so, the only reason guys tryout for track and field is because they fail to make the football team. Seriously though, when was the last time a team was glorified for winning at track? Within the track is the soccer field. And to my right is the football field. When I decided I wanted to be a cheerleader, I originally tried out for the squad on the football team. At the time, the squad already had a cheer caption: Casey Anderson. I'll never forget her name for as long as I live. She was such a snot! She had the nerve to tell me that I didn't have what it takes to be a dancer, then proceeded to give me false hope by saying they would let me know if I made the cut. I never heard from her. Their loss, really. When I heard the Blue Jays were holding tryouts, I immediately pounced on the opportunity. They, of course, saw my unappreciated potential and I quickly found myself a spot on the squad. After the first few weeks, they agreed to elect me cheer captain. I'm not gonna lie, it took a little convincing, but they finally saw the superiority in my skills. And thereafter, I made Aurora co-captain.

The football field is covered with rows and rows of metal folding chairs all facing an enormous stage. Many of the chairs are already taken. The ceremony should be starting in approximately thirty minutes. Xander and his family take a seat near the center of the seating area. A few empty chairs are behind them, so I hop over and claim them before anyone else has the chance.

"Hi, Xander!" I sit down in the chair directly behind him.

He looks over his shoulder. "Oh. Hey, McKenzie! We've got ourselves a pretty good day for graduation, don't you think?" He tilts his head back and examines the sky.

I'm sitting right behind Xander White! Of course it's a great day! A hurricane could sweep through right now and I wouldn't care.

"Yeah," I say. "It looks like it will be a nice day after all. So what happened last night after the game? I didn't see you after it ended."

"Aw, man. I'm so sorry. I feel like such a jerk." He lets out a deep sigh. "I was so upset at myself for blowing that last shot that I just left the gym without saying anything to anyone. I talked with some of the guys in the lockers afterward, but they weren't up for partying after that loss, so I just went home."

"Ah. That's okay. And don't be too hard on yourself. It was still a great game."

"It'll be even better at Duke."

I glance at him with uncertainty. "You mean . . .?"

His lips part and form a breathtaking smile. "Yep! I got an e-mail from Duke representatives this morning with an offer to attend their school on a basketball scholarship."

"Xander, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks. What about you? You going to college?"

I beam proudly. "Got my acceptance letter from Stanford yesterday."

"Whoa! A Stanford girl. I better mind my Ps and Qs then." He winks. "What are you taking?"

"Photography."

He laughs. I'll never get tired of hearing that laugh. "I should have guessed it. You always did seem to have a thing for the limelight. But do you even own a camera?"

"Not yet. I'm going to get one soon, though."

"Do you know anything about photography?"

"Well . . ."

He laughs again. "Good luck." Then turns to face the stage.

I tap him on the shoulder to grab his attention once again. "My family and I are having a cookout after the ceremony. I'd love it if you could make it!"

He looks over at his parents, then nods. "Sure. That'd be cool.

"Great!" I feel all giddy inside, my feet tapping the teams' midfield logo in excitement.

Mother and father take their seats on my left and Aurora moves past them and sits on my right. We pass the time with casual conversation, waiting for the ceremony to start. With ten minutes left, Aurora's parents: James and Parker, arrive. They sit down in the chairs next to Aurora.

"I'm so sorry we're late, sweetie," Parker says. "Your father and I got held up at work."

"You're fine, mom. The ceremony hasn't started yet."

Aurora is a spitting image of her mother; Parker couldn't deny her if she tried. Aurora has the same almond shaped eyes, and if it weren't for the fact she gets blonde highlights in hers, her hair is practically the same shade of auburn. James, on the other hand, is a bit more distinguished looking; his hair has long since turned this George Clooney color of silver and black. Come to think of it, I don't ever recall him not being a little gray in all the years that I've known him. It probably has something to do with how many hours he works. I hear stress ages you like crazy!

The football field is an ocean of crimson and gold from every cap and gown. At a quick glance, it appears that every seat is filled.

Dean Warner and Principal Mayer make their way across the stage. Warner moves in behind the podium, speaking into the microphone. "Thank you all for being here today. I congratulate all of you for making it this far and remaining dedicated to your studies, despite my contrary expectations for some of you." His gaze passes over this direction, like those words were meant specifically for me. If it weren't for the fact that I'm sitting in the midst of nearly five thousand other students, I'd say he is definitely looking directly at me.

How many times do I have to scream it? I didn't start the food fight!

Warner takes a drink of water before continuing. He drones on about how appreciative he is for the school board and their efforts to maintain proper structure within the school. Then he talks about the valedictorians and how proud he is to see them transform into promising young adults. Then he gives his thanks to each of the teachers. Then the honor roll. Then the rest of the students. He then asks for everyone to rise and pay our respects as the marching band plays the national anthem.

We rise to our feet as the band begins to play. It sounds downright awful! The tuba player is way, way off key. A tone-deaf walrus could play better than that kid. I slap my hands over my ears and lean in close to Aurora. "Tell me when it's over." But a stern look from father changes my decision; I drop my hands to my side.

The anthem ends and everyone sits back down. Principal Mayer gets behind the microphone and begins naming off students from valedictorians to the honor roll. Some of them say a few words of thanks or give a shout-out to someone in particular, while others silently marched across the stage, take their diplomas with a handshake from Dean Warner, and then promptly exit the stage.

The row in which Aurora and I are sitting is called. We squeeze past the still seated family members and make our way towards the stage. I'm standing in front of Aurora, but there are half a dozen or so students in front of me.

Aurora squeezes my hand from behind. "I'm so nervous! There's like a million people here. People. Lots and lots of people. I don't do people. I can't handle this. What if I freeze? What if I mess up my speech?"

"Then it'll be kindergarten all over again." I wink.

I march across the stage and over to Warner. I shake his hand as he gives me the rolled up diploma, then step up to the microphone. "Greetings peasants, nerds, and other people." I glance across the football field, recognizing certain faces in the crowd. I stop suddenly as my vision crosses a certain face; a very unforgettable face—Rhea! She dodges my gaze, dropping her head to stare at her lap. I'm shocked she had the nerve to show up today.

Seeing Rhea causes me to lose my train of thought, but I recover quickly. "It's been four years since we first stepped through the main doors of this school. Four years of diligence, determination, and a little bit of luck. Well, unless you're me, then you don't need luck. But nonetheless, we made it, we're here. I'd like to thank the Blue Jays for giving me the wonderful opportunity to cheer with them, to be their leader and captain. And to the Shadow Hawks for making basketball more than just a game on a court." Principal Mayer deliberately clears his throat, implying that I wrap up my speech. I roll my eyes. "And a big thank you to the teachers, the school board, blah, blah, blah. We couldn't have done it without you. Woo-hoo." Mayer then shoos me from the stage, cutting my speech short. What a creep!

Aurora moves up to the microphone next. She glances my way with terror rimmed in her eyes. I give her a thumbs up, letting her know that everything will be just fine. She nods slowly, then takes a deep breath. "Um. H-hello." She stares straight