The Dangerous Doors of Shannon Anderson

Chapter Eighteen

"Up and at 'em, Shan!"

I blinked and rolled over in my bed. It felt like only a few minutes had passed since I'd come home and crawled into bed after my late-night siesta in New Switzerland. There were three too-cheerful knocks on my door. "Shannon?" Dad said.

"I'm not going," I called back, my face buried in my pillow.

Dad opened the door and peeked his head in. "Don't you want to see your friends?"

"No."

"Come on, Shannon, get up. You'll feel bad about it later if you don't go."

That was probably true. I groaned. "Fine, but we're sitting in the back, and wearing disguises."

Unfortunately I did not have a good disguise on hand, so I settled for the shiny spring green dress I would have worn under my graduation gown if I had actually been graduating. The pseudo-silk white robe had been hanging in my closet for weeks. I pulled down the hanger and held it against me, checking the effect in the mirror. Maybe I could disguise myself as a graduate and just nab a diploma while I was there. Who would notice me among the crowd of a hundred other shiny-robed teenagers? Probably everyone, since my graduation gown made me look like a microwaved marshmallow. I didn't buy into the idea that fat girls should only wear clothes that flatter their figures, but polyester graduation robes look awful on everybody, so I clung to the silver lining that I just got to wear my cute green dress on its own. Plus, I wouldn't have to worry about keeping that stupid hat glued to my head and messing up my hair. So that was another pro for the "not graduating" column.

We may not have had disguises, but Dad was obliging enough to let me choose a seat in the farthest corner of the back row of the church where the ceremony was being held. Even so, the whispers started as soon as we walked in. I hid my face behind my program. Mercifully, Father Jerry invited everyone to take a seat and began his blessing before anyone had the chance to come over and interrogate me.

Mr. Hamilton gave a little speech next, talking about how proud he was to have seen us transform from dweeby baby freshmen into the fine young men and women sitting before him today. (He didn't actually call us dweeby, but that's what he was getting at.) And then it was the valedictorian's turn.

Jessa stepped up to the pulpit and smiled prettily out over the crowd, her long braids pulled back into a perfect ballerina bun, her stupid hat balancing just as gracefully on her head as befit a dancer. My guts clenched. Standing there, her shiny white gown that much brighter against her dark skin, she looked radiant, like someone for whom everything had gone precisely according to plan. Then she started her speech, bullshit about how we were all on the threshold of life, springboarding forward into this next exciting chapter with every day bringing fresh opportunity to learn, love, and grow. I couldn't stand it. I seriously thought I was going to throw up. I stood up to excuse myself, but Dad grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back down. I tried to drown out Jessa and her glowing, hopeful words, but every line was a reminder that I had squandered my opportunity, that I was quickly tumbling backwards from the threshold of life, falling into a desperate pit of no prospects. All I wanted was to be on the beach in New Switzerland, sucking on sugar cane with Fritz, or in Amsterdam with Dr. Van Helsing, poring over dusty old books on the supernatural, or even someplace brand new. All I wanted was to be anywhere but here.