Forty-Nine

The number of people feeling overly emotional as we stood in the back of the gym the following Saturday waiting for the music to start surprised me. A bunch of them were hugging and vowing that they’d always be the very best of friends. They hung on to each other as if we were about to go in and face a firing squad, rather than a graduation ceremony. Despite the fact I’d been counting down the days I had left in school since grade eight, suddenly I started to feel connected to all of them too. I’d miss them in a weird way.

Drew rushed over as soon as she saw me. “You look really nice.”

As if anyone was going to look attractive in a neon blue fire-retardant gown. “Thanks,” I said.

“Let’s get a picture.” We threw our arms around each other, and she held her phone out to grab a selfie of the two of us. We’d taken more pictures together in the past week than we had in years. It was like both of us wanted to document that there had been a time when we’d been the very best of friends. Drew had found a roommate service in New York and was talking to a bunch of people online. She was going to be okay. We both were.

“Are you going to come over after this?”

“Not sure. There’s still a lot to do.” Mom and I were leaving first thing tomorrow morning for Florida, and I still had packing to do. I had no interest in celebrating the past. What I cared about was ahead of me. It was a good feeling.

We’d sold or given away our furniture. We’d been bunking down in sleeping bags for the past couple of nights. We were only taking what we could fit in the car.

Ms. Clark, our biology teacher, was trying to get everyone else into the tidy alphabetical line that we’d practiced. She had sweat stains under each arm and sounded like we were getting on her last nerve. She clapped her hands and tried to herd us into order. I checked to make sure no one was looking right at me and picked my thong out of my rear. It was hot and sticky, and I wished I’d worn shorts instead of a dress.

“People, you need to be in line now. Please make sure you are in the right place. Remember, the alphabet is going backward for this.” Ms. Clark checked her watch again. “We’re starting,” she said for the third or fourth time.

Almost nobody paid her the slightest attention. What was she going to do, give us detention?

“You’ll call me when you guys get to Florida?” Drew asked.

“Of course.” I poked her in the ribs. “You still going to come visit?”

“When I want a break from all the snow in NYC, you won’t be able to keep me away.”

The band burst into Pomp and Circumstance, and that got everyone moving. Drew hugged me before darting away. We shuffled into place with only a bit of jockeying to figure out where we were supposed to be and began marching in. I glanced around as soon as I was in the gym and spotted my mom. It wasn’t hard. She was waving madly from the bleachers like she was trying to direct aircraft. I smiled and waved back. This was it.

“Commencement means beginning,” Martina Lopez, our class valedictorian, said. I rolled my eyes. I’d hoped for more originality from someone who was a straight-A student and could swear in four languages. I closed my eyes and let myself drift while she talked.

“Our future is no longer a distant thing, something to talk about, to dream about—the future is here. We walked into this room as students, and we walk out as citizens of the world, ready to take on our destiny.”

I wondered what her destiny would be. She was scary smart; she could do anything. I’d given Martina a tarot reading once, but I couldn’t remember what she’d wanted to know anymore.

“At a time when we have everything before us, we should take time to remember those we’ve lost. Many of us struggled with the recent death of our classmate and friend Paige Bonnet. But she would be the first to tell us not to be sad, but instead to use what happened to her to motivate us to reach for our dreams.”

I shifted in my seat and refused to turn around. Our class had decided to leave her seat empty for the ceremony as a tribute. I had the irrational feeling that if I turned, I would see her sitting there, staring back at me. Blood dripping in bright red drops onto the gym floor.

“. . . Paige is a reminder that we never know how much time we have left.”

Please don’t say carpe diem, I thought.

“We need to seize all opportunities before us. Carpe diem!”

I stared down at my lap and realized I was picking at my cuticles. There was a tiny dot of blood on my gown. It looked almost black. Like the pupil of an eye looking out.

“Paige was the center of our social orbit, a star, and she’ll always be missed.” Martina said.

I sat up. I’d missed something, although I would have sworn I caught every word.

“What did she say?” I whispered to Jamail, sitting next to me.

“Shhh,” he said.

Martina had finished her talk and was already walking back to her seat. I shifted again.

They started calling our names. When we practiced, they told us not to call out or applaud when anyone’s name was announced, but of course people still did.

Center of our social orbit. A star. I turned the words over in my head, trying to figure out what it was about them that bothered me. The words were like burrs stuck in my brain, digging their way in, catching.

Drew crossed the stage for her diploma. I heard her brother let out a whoop, and she pumped her fist in the air before she came down the stairs. Her hair was starting to frizz in the heat.

The row in front of me stood and shuffled to the side of the stage to wait for their names. Our row got up and stepped toward the stage. Once I was up, I couldn’t help but see the empty seat for Paige a few rows behind mine.

Center of the universe. Star. Planets. The words tumbled around in my head and then fell into place, like puzzle pieces clicking together.

My lungs locked, refusing to do their job. I tried to suck in a breath, but it kept hitching in my chest.

Jamail nudged me in the back, and I half tripped up the steps. I was breathing now, but too quickly. Black dots danced in the corner of my vision. I wanted to turn and bolt, but I couldn’t run away. The truth was inside my head, slamming around, trying to get out.

“Relax,” Ms. Hunt, my English lit teacher, said to me. She was standing at the edge of the stage, making sure we didn’t clump up. “Take a deep breath and enjoy this moment,” she whispered.

I didn’t even hear my name called. Ms. Hunt gave me a faint push in the small of my back, and I stumbled across the floor. I took the tiny leather folder that held my diploma from our vice principal and then shook both her and Mr. Boyle’s hands. I walked carefully down the stairs. My hands shook, and the faces around me were blurred. It was too hot in the gym. Sweat trickled down my back. Even more tiny black spots popped up around the edge of my vision, and they started to rush in, filling the space. My ears rang.

There was another teacher standing at the side who stepped forward to direct me back when I’d walked past my row, but I dodged him and kept heading for the exit doors. I heard Drew hiss my name, and someone else mumbled something, but I didn’t turn my focus from the red exit sign at the back. If I looked away for a second, I was sure I wouldn’t make it.

I hit the panic bar and pushed out into the foyer. Now that I was out of the gym, the ringing in my ears was even louder, like a car alarm in my head. I grabbed my bag from the pile in the corner. I started running. The doors to the outside were open, and I flew out as if a killer were on my tail. That thought made me break into hysterical laughter. I tore the flat cap off my head and tossed it aside as I ran through the parking lot. By the time I hit the far side near the playing field, I bent in half, sucking in deep breaths.

Center of the universe.

Planets.

She’d called herself Pluto—for the missing planet. It was a joke.

But you know what else is called Pluto? Disney’s cartoon dog. Disney.

Judge Bonnet hadn’t killed his daughter. My mom had.