ALL YOU

“Tiffany Roxanna Goulbourne!”

I cheered as Tiffany strolled across the stage in her dark blue graduation gown. While most students had a few cameras trained on them as they accepted their diplomas, Tiffany lifted her camera out from the inside of her bell sleeve, held it above her head, and snapped off a few shots of her own as Dean Marshall attempted to hand her the scroll. Everyone cheered as Tiffany shook the dean’s hand and accepted her diploma, moving her gold tassel from one side of her cap to the other as she descended the stairs on the far side of the stage.

“I can’t believe they’re actually graduating,” Constance said, lifting a tissue to her nose in the chair next to mine.

“I can’t believe they got such a bloody gorgeous day,” Astrid added, squinting up at the sun from behind her thick sunglasses. “You know that when we graduate it’ll be the rainstorm to end all rainstorms.”

“No negativity today,” I admonished. “It’s going to be beautiful. Even better than this.”

My friends all eyed me, surprised, but I ignored them.

“Shh! Josh is next!”

“Joshua Matthew Hollis!”

Josh strolled up to stage, looking confident and handsome and happy. His parents and brothers and sisters were a cheering section unto themselves on the other side of the aisle, giving him a standing ovation. I stood up too, clapping as best I could with my cast, and smiled at Josh’s brother Lynn across the way. Josh shook the dean’s hand, took his diploma, and held it in his fist above his head. I laughed, my chest welling up with pride and happiness and sadness all at once. He found my eyes as he walked off stage and I blew him a kiss before sitting down again.

“I just can’t believe I’m not going to be a freshman anymore,” Amberly said, touching up her berry-colored lip gloss. “Is it just me, or has this has been the longest year ever?”

“It’s not you,” I agreed.

“It’s going to be so weird around here without them, isn’t it?” Lorna said, leaning forward at the far end of the aisle. “Portia, the Twin Cities, and everyone?”

“Weird, or just really, really awesome,” Kiki put in, snapping her gum.

I looked up and down the line at the five of them—Constance with her red hair back in a bun, her white-and-pink striped shirt buttoned and pressed; Astrid in her black boatneck T-shirt with about a hundred silver chains around her neck and her boots spattered with paint; Kiki, growing out her short blond hair so that it now stuck out from behind her ears as if she’d had an electric shock, wearing a floral baby-doll dress no one else on campus could pull off; Lorna in a dark pink shift dress, beaded necklace, and straightened black hair. I had even cleared a special place in my heart for matchy-matchy Amberly in her blue-and-white striped boatneck tee, wide-legged white pants, and blue slingbacks. Next year, we were the returning Billings Girls. Next year, we would set the tone.

“I’m thinking awesome,” I said.

Then a movement on the other side of campus caught my eye. The doors of Pemberly were thrown open and two uniformed police officers dragged Missy Thurber out, her hands cuffed behind her back. Most of the crowd didn’t notice, as their backs were to the dorms, but my friends and I saw.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

“I heard she knew all about Cheyenne and Graham’s plans,” Constance whispered, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear.

“I’ll bet they’re arresting her as an accessory,” Kiki put in.

The police quickly and discreetly hauled Missy around a corner and out of sight, before all the influential alumni and proud parents could catch a glimpse. I thought it would feel satisfying, having my oldest and most annoying nemesis finally expunged from campus, but I just felt hollow. Was that it? Were my enemies finally and truly all gone?

“Are you all right, Reed?” Amberly asked as we all faced forward again.

I nodded, blinking in the sunlight. “I’ll be fine.”

“Noelle Theresa Lange!”

All six of us jumped to our feet to cheer for Noelle, and I did my best to applaud the negative feelings away. On the other side of the aisle, Dash and his family stood up as well, along with Noelle’s mother and grandmother. A lump of sorrow gathered in my throat, realizing it must have been killing Noelle that her father wasn’t here to see this. Tears gathered in my eyes as I applauded, but Noelle showed no such emotion. She walked right up to the dean, her chin up, her dark hair loose down her back, her gold and white valedictorian tassels hanging over her shoulders. When the Easton photographer was ready, she clasped the dean’s hand, took her diploma, and smiled her perfect, winning smile into the lens. Then she turned toward her family and Dash, then toward me. The look in her eye was half amusement, half pride. And then she walked off stage.

Two seconds later, my phone beeped. For a split second I thought it might be another menacing message, another warning, another confusion, but when I whipped out my phone, the text was from Noelle.

IT’S ALL YOU, GLASS-LICKER. DON’T SCREW IT UP.

I covered my mouth with my hand. Classic Noelle.

Just like that, it was over. The end of Noelle Lange’s era at Easton. As I sat down again, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So I did a little bit of both.