chapter twenty-three

Cade's in the crowded hall on the second floor talking to Joe, one of two almost-identical brunettes I met at that party. I hide my face to avoid another conversation. At least it's not Tanner.

Around me, students bustle around with caps on their heads and black gowns drowning their bodies. They talk with their friends, take pictures, and most notably, they smile. It's a sight I'm not used to seeing in these halls.

I, too, am donning my cap, but carrying my gown in hand. My blue dress has pulled a few eyes since I've got here.

As I look around, it all becomes more real. High school is over, and I survived, scholarship intact.

"Chapman! Finally!" Cade's voice carries to me over the commotion in the bright and narrow hallway. He runs over and stops in front of me, eyes wide. "Wow," he breathes. "You look hot—I mean—that's not what I mean. I mean," he emphasizes, pink erupting on his pale neck, "you look really great. Nice. You look nice. Really nice."

Here is Cade, his black locks covered by his cap, this elusive tie hidden by his long black gown, with a blush on his cheeks.

"You look really nice, too," I say, my lips lifting a bit. It's hard not to appreciate his stammering. I might even call it cute.

I throw on my gown and zip up the front. Cade frowns, and when I catch where his eyes were resting, his skin reddens that much more.

My full getup makes this very real situation feel even more so. I'll never be back here—back in High School. But Greyson might, one day. I'd stay for him. I'd do as many more years as it took until he could graduate.

"How are you feeling?" asks Cade, irritated suddenly, "because I'm so sick of everyone that I almost fled ten minutes ago."

"Can't flee your own grad," I laugh out forcefully, feeling like doing exactly that. "Come on, you have to be at least a little happy to be here, right?"

He narrows his grass-green eyes. "Well, maybe. I guess I'm ready to move on."

I give him a wry smile. "That's good, because we don't have a choice."

"It's really loud in here," he begins, glancing around at our rowdy classmates. "We have about fifteen minutes before we need to line up. Want to go somewhere? Outside, maybe?"

I nod, hoping to avoid this overcrowded hallway for as long as possible.

Surprising me, Cade gently takes my hand and leads me away from the crowd. It's clammy, but I'm sure mine is too. His hand feels...fascinating in mine. It's not what I expected. It feels like understanding, like something shared between us. Grief, maybe. A common loss.

I hold on tight.

Both wearing our cap and gown, we pass our entire graduating class in the halls wrapping around the second floor of our school. Everyone is so happy that I find some of the energy rubbing off, spreading a giddy smile on my face.

We break out of the building to the back of the school. The sunset casts a glow onto us and bathes us in humid summer air. Almost instantly, my hair frizzes by my shoulders.

Cade let's go of my hand. It falls to my side, and somehow, I feel less steady. I want to find his grasp again, but I don't.

"Our bench is over there." He gestures to the picnic table on the pavement we've sat at for a few months now. I'm silently grateful that I don't have to walk on the grass. These white sandals were mom's and I don't want to ruin something else of hers tonight.

As we sit down across from each other, I observe my friend across the picnic table. His sash decorated with our school colours—red and white—drapes across his shoulders. Small locks of dark hair peek out from his cap, curling at his temples. He stares out into our football field, contemplative. I struggle to think of something to say.

Everything feels glued together wrong, like some pieces are here, but they're messed up and failing to compensate for the missing ones.

"I don't really want to do this," I whisper, looking away. Cade doesn't say anything, but I sense he heard me. "It doesn't...feel right." Somehow, I hope he understands.

He peers at me, brows together. "What do you mean?"

I'm supposed to be sitting here with someone else, I don't say. And Cade is supposed to be here with his father. But he doesn't say that either.

"Never mind," I say through a forced smile. "This is supposed to be a happy night, right?"

Cade nods, but I haven't convinced him.

Greyson would have coached me on how to walk across the stage and would have taken me to prom and danced with me and then we would have gone home to binge every single Pirates of the Caribbean movie until we couldn't keep our eyes open. That was how it was supposed to be.

"For what it's worth, Chapman, I'm sorry." Cade frowns. "About your parents, you know, not being here, I guess."

"Thanks," I say quietly. "Me too. About your dad."

Cade's brows come together, and I might have imagined it, but I thought I just saw some anger flash in his eyes. He nods and rests his forearms on the table. We sit like this for a few moments, remembering lost things and lost people before Cade huffs and tries to change the tone.

"So," he says with a smirk, "how many awards did you win?"

The corners of my mouth lift. "Three. Plus honours." And I didn't lose my scholarship.

"Congrats," he says.

"Thanks. How about you?"

"One in biology. And honours, but barely."

"Congratulations." I smile at him. He nods to himself and thanks me.

Just when it's getting awkward, Cade offers his hand, palm up on the table. I just stare at his hand in confusion. He stands and walks around the table. When he reaches me, he sticks his hand out again. "Come on. Showtime."

My hand finds his again, still somehow a reassurance, and I use it to get up.

We make our way back inside, hand in hand, and I welcome the cool air conditioning. The fluorescent light reflects off the light grey lockers, illuminating every flaw in the metal. It's a harsh transition for my eyes.

Cade doesn't let go of my hand—not yet.

"So, you're a biology genius..." I trail off, faking defeat, but feeling genuinely proud of my friend. He laughs at my demeanour, bumping my shoulder.

"Not much of a bio buff, eh, weirdo?"

I shake my head. "Nope. I couldn't tell you what a nucleus is. But—" I hold up a finger with a smirk—"I know that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. So that's got to count for something."

Cade releases a snicker, squeezing my hand. "I'll give you a gold star."

"I'll take your star, thank you very much!" My face breaks into a smile and I feel lighter already.

He lets go of my hand as we reach the students, now lined up in alphabetical order on either side of the long hallway.

Then, just to wipe the smile off my lips, I spot young Mrs. Zammar. I hide my eyes, dropping my head, but she's already running over to us, kitten heels clicking on the tiled floor. She's donning a pair of pleated black dress pants and a lemon-yellow blouse that flows to her wrists. Atop her head is a black hijab, neatly tucked along the edges of her face.

"There you both are! Where were you two?" she demands, talking primarily to Cade on account of the growing awkwardness between me and her.

We've been on uncertain terms since my...outburst. English class has been tense to say the least. At least it feels that way. From my position at the back of the class, I can pretend I'm invisible, but I miss saying hello and goodbye to her.

Cade huffs and gives Mrs. Zammar a tired look. "We're here now, okay?"

She scoffs. "Just go line up. Same order as rehearsal!" She waves her hands around and clicks her way back to the auditorium doors.

I turn to Cade, butterflies bouncing around in my stomach. "Break a leg," I say shakily.

A patch of red erupts on his neck. He reaches up to work the muscles there. "Well, I might. Didn't you see me fall at rehearsal?"

My jaw pops open slightly. "You fell?"

"I tripped on the fucking power cord for the microphone. Like I said, everything sucks. Literally everything."

"Wow," I sigh, chuckling a little at his expense. "Wish I had seen that." I must have been in the hall at the time, which is truly too bad.

Mrs. Zammar shouts for us to find our places right this instant and Cade just waves at her and smiles cheekily, buying us some more time. She glares at us but grants it.

I turn to Cade. "Well, let me try this again." I smile. "Don't break a leg."

"Sounds like a plan." Cade smirks at me. Our attention is drawn to the lines of students that begin settling into place. "Well, here we go," he breathes out. "The moment we've been waiting for." He watches me steadily, not seeming nervous in the slightest.

"I'll see you after?"

He nods. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Hopefully the low ceilings won't be too suffocating for the reception." He rolls his eyes and then he's gone.

I shuffle towards my place, squeezing in behind Logan Chambers, who barely gives me a second glance.

Mrs. Zammar is no more than ten feet away, whispering into a walkie talkie animatedly.

I've always liked her. I can't believe what I did. She didn't deserve that. She's only ever been kind, helping me out, encouraging me, and writing me letters of recommendation brighter than the midday sun. I might have missed that scholarship if not for her glowing recommendation.

Apologies and apologies spring to my throat, closing it, making it hard to breathe. If I keep making these angry mistakes, then I'll never catch up on the sorrys I have to hand out.

I blow out a breath and square my shoulders. "Mrs. Zammar?" I call to my teacher. She raises an eyebrow at me in response. "I'm—I'm—Uh, how long until we go in?"

"Any minute now," she quips without glancing at me.

Damn. I can't do this with prying eyes. I step out of my place and shuffle shamefully towards her.

"Ember, why can't you listen to me? Get back in line! Principal Lockwood is about to—"

"I'm sorry," I blurt out once I'm in front of her wide eyes. "I'm really, really sorry. You're such a great teacher and you didn't deserve that. I was disrespectful. And rude. And I'm sorry."

She gapes at me with a shocked expression, eyes wide and lips parted. "Well," she blows out a breath. "Fine then. You are forgiven." Mrs. Zammar nods once. "Now get back in line! Time to get this done!" She ushers me away with a playful glint in her eyes.

I never realized what a weight that was on my shoulders. But it was. And she was so kind. She shouldn't be this forgiving. I don't deserve such easy forgiveness. She should have—

Applause disrupts my thoughts.

"It's time everyone!" Mrs. Zammar announces loudly, her voice echoing down the hall. "Remember to smile, don't talk, and move your beautiful red tassels!"

I breathe in deeply and exhale harshly. We start the slow shuffle into the auditorium. It's going to be a long, long night.

A/N

Mrs. Zammar is the sweetest. 

Also, sh*t's about to hit the fan once again. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Thank you for reading <3

-Laurel