Underage

[9] Graduation Time

Underage

[9] Graduation Time

I'm not nervous, per se. The nauseous sensation in the pit of my stomach isn't due to the thought that I may trip over my floor-length black gown in these heels, or that I'll do so in front of the whole town, but more about what comes after. Once I have that diploma in my grasp, I will officially be done with this large part of my life. We'll have to move on, move forward, and I don't even know what I want to do with my life.

It's overwhelming, how many options there are. I would prefer something that pays well. But ,do you throw away what you love for a bigger paycheck? In my father's eyes, yes. In my mother's, no, but she would say to find somebody with money. Everything is about money: jobs, schools, even marriage. Nothing is free. I learned that lesson a while ago.

The skies are grey and threatening to rain, like they always do this time of year. Summer rain, they call it. Just a fancy name for thirty-minute thunderstorms that always come around three in the afternoon, like clockwork. Thunder rumbles slightly and I can see the rain making its way down Third Street and towards the church. My friends and I rush inside, narrowly missing the rain, where as others weren't so lucky.

Girls dash towards the bathroom, fishing out their makeup bags and hot tools, which are a necessity for Floridians to always have on them.

The lights flicker with a large strike of lightning. This is not the greatest way to start off the rest of our lives.

My hands play with the top of my hair. It needs to be parted just right so the cap fits and doesn't make me look any worse than I already do. Ethan stands in front of me and slides my tassel to the right side of my cap.

The microphone is tapped a few times and an announcement is made. "Please take your seats, we will be beginning momentarily."

Ethan grabs my hand before I can enter my own row and I can feel our mother's eyes burn in my back. It doesn't help that they're sitting right next to each other and whispering back and forth. I cast him a look, one he knows all too well, and he sends me a smirk that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing. His lips move to my ear, but he doesn't touch it. Instead, he whispers, "Don't trip."

To any onlookers it would seem romantic, maybe the boy telling the girl he loves her. In reality, it is anything but that. So, I push Ethan away, who simply winks at me, and I take my seat in front of him.

The principal talks, spewing nonsense about how we were his favorite class of seniors. It's the same speech I heard last year when a friend of mine graduated, and the year before that when my cousin was lucky enough to pass her classes in senior year. Then, he goes on to say that he'll surely miss us when we're gone. Not that we will ever really be gone. Only a small percentage will actually make it out of this small town. And a large percentage of those will most likely end up back in Berband, Florida in the years to come. Nobody ever truly gets out. There will always be something, or someone, to keep them here.

Then, the valedictorian Samuel White give his speech, without much eye contact with his audience, for eight straight minutes. And yes, Ethan counts. When a minute goes by, he softly calls it out to the people surrounding us and they chuckle beneath their breath. For a boy who clearly hates public speaking, he sure as hell won't stop. This is the same boy who had to give a presentation junior year in English class and almost fainted.

There isn't much to the graduation ceremony. When they call your name, you walk to the center stage, and before you can have your diploma you smile wide and take a picture with the principal. Then he shakes your hand and you take your first step as a high school graduate.