Matches | √

Chapter Thirty-One

glimmer | shine faintly with a wavering light

• • •

5/14/17

TODAY'S THE DAY.

Today's the day I graduate from high school. The day my mother and I have been looking forward to since I was a kid. The day Francesca and I dreaded yet were eager for all at once. The day I move forward from my life here in Easton and step towards my new life miles and miles away in Illinois. In two weeks I'll be moving to college to participate in an early program for my major before the rest of the freshman class moves in.

But today is the day my mother worked so hard for. The day I graduate in the top 1% of my senior class. The day I show her everything she's done for me has been worth it.

I sit in the cheap folding chair with the hundred others in my class on the football field. The sun is warm, and the air is still with no wind. My classmates sit around me in a sea of diamond white graduation gowns and caps, as our principal gives us a speech saying how proud he is of us on the stage in front of the field goal post.

My eyes flicker to the kind brown ones a few rows ahead that are already trained on me. I crack a smile at Brooklyn before he tosses a wink my way sending a shiver down my spine. I can't help the flush that turns my cheeks pink or the way my teeth graze my bottom lip in silent hope that his lips will be touching mine soon.

I drop my head breaking the connection before returning my attention back to the stage to now see our valedictorian, Amy Keating, take the stage.

Laughter bubbles up from my side and I see that somehow Asher and Francesca weaseled their way into seats side by side even though we are supposed to be in alphabetical order.

I see him pass her his expensive flask, and I watch her take a swig. But from her flushed cheeks I know it isn't her first drink of the day. Worry settles deep inside and I want to push it away and pretend I don't care about her anymore, but I can't. Because even through her white-hot hatred I still care, and I know I always will.

A piece of me aches to talk to her, to find a way to make her speak with me. I want to know if she decided on a school for this fall. I want to know how her parents are, and if their relationship is any better. I want to know so much, but I shove it all down and ignore the urge to reach out because I know it won't help.

It will only hurt, and I'm tired of hurting.

"Erin Adams," I hear our principal call out and I settle into my seat knowing they are now calling out our names to come on stage and collect out diplomas we worked four years for.

Name after name is called out as I watch row after row get called up to take their momentous walk.

"Francesca Dadario," he calls out and the crowd erupts instantly with clapping and voices cheering her on. But I don't miss the way her eyes search the bleachers for her parents, and as I turn to take a sweep I don't see them and once again concern fills my bones.

Her bright smile falters ever so slightly, and as she walks off the stage I see her wipe at her face.

My eyes track her, but she keeps her head down refusing to meet anyone's gaze as she makes her way to her seat.

"Brooklyn Fisher."

That name catches my attention as I watch my friend cross the stage. I clap my hands and cheer him on as loud as I can with a bright smile pulled across my face. A smile so wide that my cheeks hurt.

I sit there proud as can be for him. Proud of his next steps to college, and a great music program. Proud to call him my friend, and have him by my side.