He Came Through the Window

Epilogue

(June 2013)

We're struggling to get in formation outside the auditorium, scrambling to our alphabetical orders and looping our arms through those of our escorts. The noise congestion from nearly one thousand seniors packed together in a fairly tiny space is rattling my brain and boiling my blood.

"Sheer!" One of the organizers shouts over the masses, elevated on the spiral stairs above us and pointing her finger at me. "You'll be escorted by Jason Shields!"

I get up on my toes, eyes scanning the area for the boy with golden, shagged hair and emerald eyes whom I've known from English class. Everyone is taller than me here, towering over me like skyscrapers as I'm about to trip over my gown.

"Ayden!" Jason's voice shouts over the chaos as he waves a hand the mass of people. "Over here!"

I sigh with relief, pushing my way through everyone and meeting taking my place next to Jason. "Glad I found you!" I joke over the noise.

He laughs and holds his arm out to me. "Here you are."

I loop my arm through his toned one as we find our proper place in line. We make small talk as the organizers try bringing order to the masses, I fix the tassel on my cap. For a moment, my nerves begin to calm, that is until everyone is in formation and we hear the music begin in the auditorium. My stomach crawls back up to my throat again and my palms moisten.

"Ready?" Jason asks, straightening his posture as the doors open.

"Don't laugh if I trip over my gown."

He throws his head back in laughter and leads me down the aisle. I hold my breath as the parents turn their eyes on us all. As the anthem is being played by the underclassmen band, I try to hum the rhythm in my head to calm the nerves. The auditorium is massive, usually used for smaller performances that come to the city, but even for an occasion like this, it is still filled to its capacity. As Jason and I follow our classmates down the long aisle, I begin to recognize different sets of parents. I smile and wave at Ingrid's parents, and do the same when we see Chris' parents more up front.

"Smile and wave," Jason whispered in my ear with a laugh.

We finally reach our section of seats just in front of the stage, and as I take my seat next to Jason, my knees finally stop wobbling. The only eyes I have to worry about at the moment are my father's searching for me from his seat.

As Mr. Wilkins steps onto the stage and adjusts his microphone, the band's music fades. He clears his throat. "Welcome, parents, friends, relatives." He gives the same speech as he did last year, preaching about the event we, as a community, are honoring.

I fiddle with the medal around my neck signifying academic honors as Ingrid looks back at me from the row ahead, rolling her eyes and grinning. I laugh as my hand moves to Holland's bracelet on my left wrist. I run my fingers over the pink, red and white beads and feel my cheeks turn hot.

"And now," Mr. Wilkins approaches his final line of the speech, clearing his throat again and motioning toward the student body. "Let's welcome this year's graduating students to the stage."

Row by row, seniors rise and walk up to the stage, grab their diplomas, and pose for a photo with Wilkins. When Holland was in my shoes, he had been at the beginning of the alphabet so his nerves could fade in no time. Now, I was stuck in my seat, trembling with anticipation. I bite my tongue and fold my moist hands together in my lap as the names and universities are called, one by one. Running a hand through my loosely curled hair, I wonder if my group can see where I'm sitting.

Chris' name is called. "Christopher Harrison Michaels, New York Institute of Technology."

He struts up to Wilkins proudly and grasps his hand confidently, throwing his hands up to the crowd as he descends the steps on the other end of the stage. I feel my eyes rolling as I chuckle at his gesture, which is probably geared toward his new boyfriend, from Holland's graduating class, in the audience.