Tak'n Awey

▽. 1

summer '13

I nervously stand, watching the guy in front of me get his diploma. My legs start to weaken in my heels while I glance at the crowd of excited parents and friends. I'm engulf with instant anxiety, so I focus my attention back on being the next to walk.

Principal Klooney prepares to call my name and bring forward my diploma and such. He rushes to the microphone, beaming eagerly, "Mahrie. Aura. Gomez!!!

My heart stopped, but my feet kept going.

I walk across the stage grinning—not because I was happy, no—but because of the random, and quite loud applause I receive. All I want is to get my diploma as quickly as possible so I can go home.

Principal Klooney didn't ease up his smile at me as I meet him for my diploma and a handshake.

"Mahrie," he starts, "you are one of the most cooperative, most successful, and most devoted students I've had the pleasure of knowing. There isn't a student here that wouldn't want the opportunities you have! Do well, Mahrie."

"I will, Mr. Klooney."

I do one of those no-teeth-showing smiles and almost snatch my diploma from him. As I finish my walk across the stage, I shake the hands of faculty members that I may never see again. Majority of them didn't like me, anyway. They weren't too happy about a student that outsmarted them on the regular.

I spot my mom and dad grinning at me as I go back in line with the rest of the amped graduates. They have no clue of half the things I went through during high school, but a smile sure can melt the past away.

My relationship with my parents hasn't ever been good, anyway. Having only one child is not something a parent, or even both parents, should feel completes a family. It's depressing. I don't understand the intent, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

My row of seniors finally return to their seats, friends congratulating friends, quietly. Cute snickers and air hugs, mouthing "we did it!"

I'm jealous.

I don't have any friends, so I'm simply facing forward, watching the rest of the graduates walk across the stage. I'm also sitting by a girl that I've questioned for my entire educational time span. Her name's Melody Gully.

Now, for some strange reason, this girl just didn't like me. Never. It started in elementary school and worked its way up to high school. She kinda looks like a "before" picture of Pro-Activ. Face full of acne, but she's always had a nice sense of style. Maybe that's why she hates me—because I said that one time in class.

I was a freshman and she very loudly and blatantly told our professor that she didn't want to work with me in a group project because I was "really weird." Her exact words.

Weird? A little secluded, maybe, but I'm not weird. Just smart... and awfully younger than everyone else. That may mean that I'm different, but definitely NOT weird. Right?

Anyway, I heard her. And I told her straightforwardly, "You're calling me weird when you look like the before picture on Pro-Activ? Okay."

Whew! The class "oooooooo-ed" in unison while she choked on her breath and ever since then? We just evil-eyed each other.

Melody turns and stares at me with a look I cannot put my finger on. Was it awe? Was it reluctance? Maybe grief or satisfaction? Or even a comeback after all these years? I don't know; just can't put my finger on it.

She sighs and mumbles, "You're a really great student, Mahrie. You've got a lot ahead of you. I just thought I'd let you know that."

And just like that, my eyes widen in disbelief and shock. I'm a great student to Melody? Where did that come from?