CLASS ACTION

Trip and I didn't have much time to spend together over the following couple of weeks. After the prom- which Trip refused to attend for reasons unbeknownst to me- the partying had been put on hold as everyone readied for final exams. Everyone was hit with a case of senioritis, just riding out the minutes until graduation. The days seemed to be flying by so fast at a time I would have rather had everything come to a standstill.

It was scary to think that those were the official final days of my childhood, that I was going to be expected to grow up, go off to school, and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I was pretty stressed out about the whole thing, but did my best to push all those thoughts to the back of my mind for the time being.

Graduation was the first week in June and the weather that Tuesday was looking pretty iffy. No one wanted it to rain, forcing the ceremony inside. Everyone kept their fingers crossed that the weather would hold out just long enough for us to get our diplomas and get to Rymer's afterparty without getting drenched.

Thankfully, aside from a few drizzly raindrops, our commencement ceremony went off without a hitch, and by the time it was over, the sun had actually peeked through for a brief instance before nightfall.

Kuman Royal was our salutatorian and he managed to bore everyone with an uninspiring speech. The boy had been a robot from the time that he was born, so I guessed all that studying didn't allow him to hone his people skills to the hilt.

But then Heather Ferrante took the podium as valedictorian and just rocked the place.

She spoke a lot about "who we were", ticking off our collective memories about talent shows and sporting events and favorite teachers, her mention of Mrs. Catannia bringing a few hoots and wolf whistles from the male members of the audience (as she was the original cougar/TILF/thing-we-had-no-official-name-for at the time), and her reference to the day when Rymer downed a record-setting fourteen frenchbread pizzas in the cafeteria brought about a collective laughing fit, while Rymer stood up and took a bow.

But when she started talking about "who we are" and "who we will be", the audience settled down in order to absorb every word. She talked about our hopes and our goals and about how scary it was going to be to start anew all over again. That we were, in fact, the future and that that responsibility shouldn't be taken lightly. But it was when she was wrapping up her big speech and said- and these words have stayed with me throughout my life- "We know what we are, but know not what we may be" -that I noticed a lump in my throat. For the slightest moment, you could hear a pin drop, but then everyone got over their sappy sentimentality as the place erupted in applause.

After the ceremony, we spent some time milling about, saying congratulations to one another and taking pictures. Lisa pointed out the shiny, black corvette in the parking lot sporting a big, red bow; a gift to some lucky, spoiled graduate being presented all showy like in some tacky movie.

I gave Mrs. Mason a high-five on my way out to the oval lawn, who took the opportunity to offer some parting words of wisdom as she smiled, winked, and said, "Give 'em hell, Layla."

Trip was standing with his parents, so I went over to say hello. His face lit up when he saw me. "Layla! Hey, come meet my sister!"

I was introduced to Claudia Wilmington, in town from San Diego for the auspicious occasion. I knew that she was twenty-three and had been living out in California since she was eighteen, never having moved back in with her nomadic family after college.

I also knew that she was living with her girlfriend, and that her parents didn't have any clue about it.

I said hello to everyone, and Mrs. Wilmington was her usual chipper self, smoothing a hand over Trip's hair, trying to ready him for a photo. His father was friendly enough, but he seemed distracted as if he had somewhere else more important to be instead of at his only son's graduation. But they both said hello pleasantly, and Mr. Wilmington told me to get next to Trip for a picture, so I sidled up and threw my arm over his shoulder. Trip flashed me one of his evil grins and then scooped me up in his arms, the both of us cracking up as his father snapped the photo.

We said goodbye to his family and went to find my dad and Bruce. They were standing with Lisa, Pickford and the DeSantos, and we all said hello before the cameras came out. I managed to get a congratulations and a few snapshots out of my brother before he took off, but then my dad and Lisa's dad used up like twelve more rolls of film taking pictures of the rest of us.

On the way out to the parking lot, Trip and I spotted Heather and I ran over to give her a big hug. "Heather! What an amazing speech!"

For all her beautiful words that night, she stood there at that moment practically speechless. Finally, she stammered out, "Th-thank you."

I saw Trip give her a wink as I asked, "Are you going to Rymer's?"

She looked over my shoulder for a quick second before answering, "Oh, no, no. I don't think so."

"Oh, come on. It's going to be so much fun. He invited the whole class! You just have to be there, okay? Just grab a friend and go. I'm expecting to see you." I took a look at Trip and added, "We're expecting you. Please come."

Heather blew out the breath she'd been holding. "Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll show up for a little while."

"Thatta girl," Trip said, before we went our separate ways.

* * *

I pit-stopped home to freshen up, ditch my graduation gown, and touch up my hair and makeup. It was tradition for the grads at St. Norman's to wear white on graduation day, and I loved the chiffon tank dress I'd found, the way the A-line skirt fanned out from hip to knee. Every step I took made me feel like a prima ballerina, the silky fabric floating around my legs.

I'd blown my hair out straight so that my graduation cap would fit on my head, but mostly, I was trying to look more classic and natural, like Michelle Pfeiffer at the end of Grease 2. I changed out my silver hoops for my diamond studs, put my St. Christopher medal on and did one last mirror check before running downstairs to say goodbye to Dad and Bruce. My brother and all the other underclassmen still had three days of exams to look forward to, and the public schools weren't due to let out for weeks. Seeing as it was a Tuesday, we knew that the town of Norman would belong exclusively to the senior Class of '91 that night.

I headed outside just as Trip was pulling in the driveway. On my way down to his truck, I could see him just sitting there behind the wheel smiling at me as I approached. By the time I opened the door, I realized the look I saw on his face could only be described as... proud.

"Hey, Chester," I offered by way of a greeting. I only called him that when we were alone; one, because I didn't want to sell him out, and two, because I liked having a secret kept just between the two of us.

"Hey there, Lay-Lay. Looking good, I see."

I smiled back in answer, caught off guard because I never knew what to say whenever he threw a compliment my way. He looked gorgeous in his dark blue jeans and white, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "You, too," I said, trying to keep everything in perspective. I mean, we were still taking these little babysteps, still working on getting our friendship back on track. I had to remind myself of that.

We got to Rymer's where the party was already in full swing. We made our way out to the back deck together, and I couldn't help but be reminded how it was Tess who'd been his date for the last deck party. And this time it was me. Well, sort of.

Rymer was in rare form- the full keg he'd picked up hours before was his treat- filling up cups and passing them out like candy on Halloween. I grabbed my beer and headed into the kitchen, looking for some bowls to put snacks into. I saw Margie Caputo, and before I could even say hello or wish her congratulations, she snipped out, "You came here with Trip?"

I was surprised by her tone and just answered, "Mmm hmm."

I went about my task, opening a bag of Ruffles and dumping them into one of the Tupperware bowls that was waiting on the table. Margie gave a snort and spat back, "So, what, are you guys like back together again or something?"

I folded the empty bag and threw it in the trash as I shot a confused look her way. When I saw the snotty look on her face, I decided to say, "Um, not that I owe you an explanation, but we're just friends."

She crossed her arms and added, "Well, no wonder. I heard you wouldn't give it up and that's why he broke up with you."

What?

I was stunned on about twenty different levels.

Firstly, I couldn't believe how Margie was talking to me. It's not like we were bestest buddies or anything, but we'd always been friendly with each other over the years. Yet there she was, talking at me as if our friendship suddenly didn't exist.

Mostly, I was surprised at what she'd said about Trip and me. People thought we were a couple at one point? And they thought we'd broken up because I was holding out on him?

I was fairly shocked to find I was the subject of a very misinformed grapevine. God. Didn't people have anything better to do with their time than talk shit about other people's lives?

I leaned against the counter across from Margie with my arms crossed, mirroring her same pose. I felt my anger rising like a heat wave up the back of my neck. Any minute, steam would start escaping from my ears.

"First of all, you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." I leaned forward, trying to seem intimidating, and aimed two fingers in her direction to continue, "And secondly, it's none of your business!" I only half-registered that Lisa had entered the kitchen as I added, "What the hell is your problem tonight anyway? Are you serious?"

Margie snorted back, "Are you? What, you think a guy like Trip enjoys your company so much, he's willing to take cold showers every night?"

What was up with her? What a psychopath!

Before I could get over my astonishment and say a single word, Lisa piped up. "What do you care?"

Margie actually had the bad taste to look smug as she said, "Well, I got to second with him, which was further than her."

Lisa snapped back, "Yeah, in front of everyone, trampoid. Too bad you skipped first, probably because he couldn't risk taking the bag off your head."

Margie's jaw dropped open, but she didn't dare say anything back. She knew she'd been outmatched. She just gave a huff and stormed out of the room, leaving Lisa and me to look at each other in disbelief.

I would have laughed, but I was still too taken aback to find any humor in the situation. I mean, Margie and I didn't hang out every other minute, but we were sociable enough in school, and even if that weren't the case, I thought she had acted entirely out of line. I didn't know where the nasty streak was coming from.

Two hours later, we saw her making out with Rymer in the hallway, so Lisa and I figured she must have just been completely drunk. Or on drugs. Or had survived a massive blow with a blunt object to her head.

How else to explain not only the bad attitude toward me, but the fact that she was hooking up with Rymer?

Speaking of hooking up... Sargento and Heather seemed to be hitting it off, without any intervention from me or Lisa, so it was like they were meant to be. But even more unexpected was watching Cooper lavish attention on Heather's friend Becca all night. I knew she'd had a crush on him forever and I couldn't help thinking that if Coop hadn't spent the better part of the past six months nursing my broken heart, those two could have gotten something going a lot sooner. Now, with only a summer left before we all went our separate ways, I felt like I'd robbed both of them the chance to actually give the relationship a real go.

Standing there watching them gave me the smallest attack of jealousy. Not so much that Coop had finally gotten over me, but more because I'd spent my entire senior year basically single, in love with someone who would never see me as more than a friend. It was agony, but I was learning to deal with it, because I knew it was even more tortuous when Trip was totally cut out of my life. After half a year in that state, I'd already decided that having him as a friend was better than not having him at all.

I felt an arm slip around my waist and turned my head to see Trip smiling behind me. How did I live the past months, not seeing him smile at me like that? I gave his arm a quick squeeze as he asked, "Having fun yet?"

I could feel the length of his body pressed right up against mine from my shoulder to my calves. Yeah. I'd say I was having fun.

"Yep. Another Rymer party. Fun, fun, fun."

He laughed and released me from our hug. "Jeez, Lay. That dress is something else. I almost feel like I should take you out of here to ah, you know..." then he leaned in to whisper, "go dancing."

Such a tease.

I was thinking of calling him out for being a big flirt, but instead, the words that came out of my mouth were, "Actually, you think we could find somewhere to go talk?"

He raised an eyebrow, almost mocking me for suggesting we "go talk", which in high school world, was a euphemism for "make out". But he saw the serious look on my face and must have decided not to bust my chops. "Yeah, sure. I kinda figured you'd want to eventually. Let's start saying goodbye while we polish off our drinks."

"Sounds like a plan."

 ***New chapter tomorrow! (Not to be a tease, but you're gonna love it. Just sayin'.)***

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