by Lori L. Otto
“I doubt it,” I say, “but just in case. I don’t want to make things any worse than they already are.”
“Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m sitting next to you. I have no intention of sitting next to Eager Eddie.” Most of our class didn’t like Eddie Reynolds. He was the first to volunteer for anything in every single class, but more often than not, his answers were completely wrong. He wasn’t in the running for valedictorian, to say the least. We’d joked that he might push the rest of us out of the way so he could be the first to receive his diploma.
“That’s probably safest,” I say, “unless you want one of these, too.” I point to my forehead. “You get lots of unwanted attention.”
“There’s no such thing,” he says.
“Says Mr. Most Popular.” I tease him with his senior superlative title.
“That’s right, Miss Most Talented.”
I roll my eyes at my own title. The line ahead of us starts to move toward our seats. Finn takes my arm in his, but I pull it away, glaring at him. “I’m fine. If I feel like I’m going to fall–which I won’t, because again, I’m fine–I’ll hold on to you. Deal?” He nods, looking around at the families and friends that have come to watch us graduate. He starts waving at everyone. “Attention whore,” I say to him loudly to make sure he hears it over the applause.
When we get to our seats, we stand and wait for the rest of my class to filter in. Finn taps me on the shoulder, pointing out the section where our families are. We both wave at the camera that Matty’s pointing in our direction. “Who’s the whore now?” he says, earning him a hard slap to the chest. I scan every seat around Matty, smiling at all of my family members but missing the one person I wanted to see most.
“Finn, I don’t think he’s here.”
“I’m sure he’s here,” he says. “Maybe there weren’t any seats left nearby. You’re dad’s kind of popular, you know.”
“Maybe.” I continue to search for him, a part of me knowing I’d never find him in this crowd, and another part of me thinking I’d be instantly drawn to him if he was here. I feel like I’ve looked at everyone by the time they motion for us to take our seats. I glance at my dad before I sit down, involuntarily frowning at him. He looks at me sympathetically, holding up his fingers to form the sign for ‘I love you.’ I make the sign back to him, and we both sit down at the same time.
As a few teachers greet our class with their own chosen anecdotes, all I want to do is lean on Finn and cry. I can’t believe Jon’s not here... but just in case he is, and I missed him, I’m careful to keep my distance from my friend.
My vision blurs with tears. There’s no way I can concentrate on what anyone’s saying. Thank God this is organized. Thank God I’ll know what to do by just following everyone around me.
I stand when the rest of my row does, following Finn out of the aisle. He hangs back, returning to his seat as the rest of us file up to the stage. I realize that my bandage is on the side the audience will see, and decide to spend as much time as I can looking at the back of the stage. Waiting my turn, I pull my hair in front of my face.
“Ella Marissa Haymon,” they announce the girl in front of me. Miss Most Popular. The applause and cheers are insanely loud as I step up to the edge of the stage, keeping my head angled to the back.
“Olivia Sophia DeLuca.”
The entire auditorium goes silent. I whip my head around to look at my principal, confused. There’s a collective gasp when people see my head, and as much as I want to get this over with, I don’t walk. My legs don’t move, because that’s not my name. That’s not me. I haven’t heard that name in years.
“Come on, Livvy,” Principal Foster says, trying to wave me forward. I can hear individual people sniffling, whispering. I can hear everything.
“It’s Holland,” I call to him, shaking my head. “Olivia Sophia Holland.”
He looks down at the framed diploma, confused. I can tell by his reaction that it clearly says DeLuca on the paper. “Of course it’s Holland. It says that right below your name.” But that’s not my name! I feel like yelling to him. “I am so sorry,” he continues, his face turning bright red as he motions to me again. “Olivia Sophia DeLuca Holland.”
“There’s no ‘DeLuca’ in my name!” I explain when I reach him.
I start to cry as I shake his hand, feeling weak in the knees when he finally releases the diploma to me. I stare at the foreign name. “We’ll get it corrected, Livvy,” he whispers as I start to leave. Instead of returning to my seat, I make a beeline to the doors we’d entered through. Finn meets me in the hallway, but so do quite a few other curious people. Some, I recognize as students from the other grades. Others, I don’t recognize at all, but they’re all staring at me. I just want some privacy, and start to walk quickly toward a set of doors ahead. I put the diploma in a trashcan on the way.
“Can you all back off?” Finn asks them as I keep going. The sun is blinding when I get outside, the doors leading to a back lot with three large dumpsters. There’s a foul stench, so I keep walking around the corner. I hope the footsteps behind me are Finn’s. I finally turn around to look. He’s carrying the diploma.
“Get that away from me,” I tell him. “What the hell?”
“Even if you don’t want it, you don’t want someone selling it on eBay either,” he says. We both look around to make sure no one else has followed us.
“I can’t even fathom how that happened. Who would even know that name?” I ask him. Instinctively, I start to run my hands though my hair, and not only do I knock my graduation cap off, but I hit my bruised forehead, too. “Finn, this is the worst day of my life.”
He leans the diploma against the wall and comes over to me to give me a hug. “Shit, Finn! You have to go back to walk the stage!”
“I don’t care about that, Livvy. It may not be my name they call anyway,” he jokes.
“That’s not funny,” I tell him as I push him away.
“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry. God, Liv, I am so sorry.” I put my head in my hands and cry, eventually peeling off the bandage in frustration. “That looks much worse,” he says as he puts his hands on my cheeks so he can angle my face for a better look in the sunlight.
“It hurts,” I choke out.
“I’m sure it does,” he says with a smile, faintly touching the sore spot with the pad of his thumb.
“Not just that, Finn,” I cry. “Everything.”
I search his eyes for sympathy or answers or something. It all happens so quickly; I have no time to protest. I try to form his name with my lips as he pulls me close and kisses me hard. My initial response is to try to back away, but I don’t fight him for long, kissing him back fully as his hands tug at my hair and mine grip his graduation gown.
“Oh, Livvy,” he says, in obvious need of a breath. He pants as he stares at me. I try to wipe the lines of confusion from his forehead as he kisses me again. Feeling a sense of comfort, I close my eyes, allowing more tears to fall from them. This time, when he pulls away, I hold his bottom lip gently between my teeth, sucking on it lightly before letting go.
We both hear a click, and I’m fairly certain I saw a flash of light through my eyelids. I bury my head into him, hitting it hard against his lean chest. “Ow,” I say. “Finn, what was that?” I whisper. I hear a few more clicks as I pull my long hair down, obscuring my face.
“Livvy, we’re not alone.” Shielding my face with my hand, I glance up quickly, looking directly into five different camera lenses. I look away as fast as I can, but not before a few more flashes go off and I identify a pair of eyes that look familiar–only they’re full of more anguish than I’ve ever seen before.
Jon. I think I might throw up. He turns and begins to jog the other way, his footing unsure at first, but quickly finding rhythm. “Jon!”
Finn leans past me and grabs the diploma, passing it off to me hurriedly. We both look for an exit, but the only options are back through the building, or toward t
he crowd. If I want to get to Jon, we have to go through the onlookers. “Run,” he instructs me as his lips pass my ear, taking off in a sprint.
“Finn! Finn, you have to stop him!” I can’t keep up with him, but I run as fast as I can.
“I’m trying, Liv!”
It’s a miracle I make it safely through the paparazzi and the traffic with my eyes attuned to Finn and Jon ahead of me. I see my friend run into my boyfriend’s body, his posture poised and ready for the impact. Finn falls at Jon’s feet.
“Jon!”
“What?” he asks, still walking in the other direction. Jon almost hits Finn as he tries to stop him from going further. They start to push each other, and I scream to try to stop them. This gets their attention. “We have an audience,” Jon says. “Again.”
“I don’t care!”
“I do,” he mumbles, the anguish now turned to anger, hatred. “I don’t want any pictorial evidence of what I’d like to do to him.” They start to fight.
“Stop it!” I yell.
“Why, Liv?” my boyfriend seethes. “Who’s your dog in this fight, huh? Or don’t you even know?” I can’t believe he thinks I don’t know. It was a kiss. A very stupid, confused kiss that came at a time that I needed Jon. He wasn’t there.
“You, Jon,” I barely manage to say. He pushes my friend into me and walks away, never turning back.
“Want me to go after him?” Finn asks. I shake my head, staring until I can’t see him anymore. When my head starts to clear, I realize there are still people snapping pictures.
“Get me out of here.” Within seconds, we make it to the edge of the street where a vacant cab is waiting. We slide in the backseat, slamming the door behind us.
“Drive,” Finn says as I duck to avoid being captured in any more pictures. “East 82nd and Madison.” He’s taking us back to his dad’s apartment.
“We are so screwed, Finn,” I tell him, gasping for air.
“Yeah, we are,” he says. “I don’t–” he struggles to find words. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I feel... lost without him.”
“That shouldn’t have happened, Liv. I didn’t mean for–”
“Don’t you think I know that?!” I yell at him.
“Oh, shit,” he says. “Your dad. What’s your dad gonna think?”
“Concussion,” I say quickly. “I’ll blame it on the concussion.”
“The concussion skewed your judgment, allowing you to kiss me back, but then you were able to keep up with me for five blocks to confront your boyfriend.”
“What else could it be? I don’t feel that way about you.”
“You’ve made that clear, Liv,” he says with a laugh. He jumps as his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. “It’s my dad.”
“Yeah? I’m with Livvy. I know, Dad, I know... I can’t, we’re in a cab. We’re headed to the apartment. Dad, it’s a stupid piece of paper, okay? I’m sure they’ll give it to you. I’m sorry!” he says, and I’m sure his parents are thoroughly disappointed that they didn’t get to see him walk the stage. “I don’t know what to say. It’s too late now. She needed someone.” He’s quiet for a minute, straining to hear people conversing on the other end of the line. “Jacks wants to talk to you.” I shake my head, ignoring the pounding pain the movement causes. “Take it,” he urges me.
“What if they know?” I ask him, panicked.
“They can’t know yet,” he says. “But, I mean, Liv. They will.” I grab the phone from him.
“Daddy, can you come to Finn’s apartment? That’s where we’re going.”
“Tessa, are you okay?”
“No, I’m not,” I tell him, crying. “My head hurts, and my heart hurts...” I say, confused.
“If this is about the diploma, Liv,” he sighs heavily, “they’ll fix it. It’s not worth being that upset over. You’re my daughter. Since the day you were born, you were destined to be my daughter.”
“I know, Dad,” I whisper. “Choisie,” I say, unsure anyone can understand me anymore. Choisie. I touch the necklace that has stayed on my neck since I got it, with the exception of one night–Jon’s prom night. He wouldn’t choose me now. Neither would Dad. I give the phone back to Finn.
“Calm down, Liv, it’s okay,” he says, patting my back as I fold into myself. “We’re almost there.” I hear him end the call. “Our parents are on their way.”
“Great,” I say weakly. “What are we going to say?”
“We’ll just tell them what happened,” he says. “In an hour, they’ll find out from someone. It might as well be us.”
“Jon’s never gonna forgive me.”
“We’ll make it right. Whatever I can do, I’ll help. I never meant for this to happen–”
“Camille,” I state, just considering the consequences. “She’ll never forgive me. Maybe we can go back and pay off the photographers. I don’t want anyone to know, or see.”
“Livvy, this is gold to those assholes. Other people will pay for pictures like that,” he says.
“They can’t out-bid me.”
“Correction. They can’t out-bid your father. And by the time we’ve told him, it will be too late.”
“Do you think they’ll recognize you?”
“Let’s narrow this down. We’re both wearing our caps and gowns. Our senior class isn’t that big. One guy didn’t walk the stage today. Oh, and I’m kind of a soccer legend here.”
“You’re not a legend.”
“I might be now,” he considers.
“The soccer star who helped Livvy Holland–no Livvy DeLuca–ruin her life. What a thing to be known for!”
“Your life isn’t ruined,” he says, trying to console me. “Plus, you kissed me back.”
“I know that, Finn. I’m sorry. This is bad. Really bad. People consider us to be related.”
“But we’re not. On multiple counts, we’re not. One, you’re adopted. Two, we’re only ‘related’ by marriage.”
“You don’t think people aren’t going to exploit that?”
“No, they probably will.”
The cab pulls up to Finn’s building. I pay the driver with some of the cash I’d brought with me.
It seems like hours have passed by the time my parents show up with Finn’s father and step-mother. Finn and I have both taken off our gowns. We’re seated on opposite ends of a long sofa.
“Contessa,” Dad begins as he joins me on the couch. “You’re making too big a deal of this. They’re just words on a piece of paper, and they told me on my way out that they would be delivering a corrected one to our house in two days.”
I bury my head in his chest, letting my tears stain his coat. As I cry, I hear Finn’s dad sharing his disapproval at his son not getting his diploma.
“I had to help her out of there,” Finn explains. “There were people waiting for her... watching her.”
“He’s right,” I speak up. “Finn, you should have just stayed. Then everything would be okay now.” My friend looks down at the carpet as his cheeks turn a darker shade of pink.
“What do you mean, Liv?” my mom asks, confused. The sound of an incoming text message rings throughout the room, and I realize quickly that it’s not just from my phone, but Finn’s, too. Mom hands me mine, but not before glancing at the message. “What happened with Camille?”
“I hate you both.”
My best friend’s message stings, but I don’t blame her. I am surprised at how quickly the pictures were made public, or maybe she saw us, too. I can’t look anyone in the eyes right now, even though I feel Finn staring at me from across the room. My phone alerts me again.
“Jon wasn’t aware you were interested in dating Finn.” Of course, she called him.
I turn the sound off and set the phone on the coffee table, face down. Jon knows that I don’t like Finn like that. He’s the only one that knows about the attempted kiss, how it meant nothing to me. This one was no different.
But it didn�
��t look that way. I have no doubt that Jon saw the way I held on to Finn’s bottom lip. It was my way of saying ‘I want you.’ Jon knew what it meant.
He had to know it only meant that for him. Surely, he knows...
“Do you want me to tell them, Livvy?” Finn asks. Other people may have been talking, but I didn’t hear them. I look at him and shake my head.
“I mean,” I say to him, “it had to be the concussion, right?” He nods his head.
“What had to be?” Dad asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m... I’m just a little confused,” I start my explanation.
“About?”
“We kissed. Me and Finn. When we were outside, behind the auditorium, I don’t know what came over us, but we kissed. He kissed me, and I kissed him back.”
The whole room is silent. Dad looks at Finn, then back to me. “I don’t understand,” he says.
“She said she wasn’t feeling well,” Finn adds. “I was looking at her bump, and it just happened.” I nod to corroborate the story.
“Do you like Finn like that?” my mom asks.
“I like Finn a lot, but no. Not like that. I love Jon, you know that.”
“And I think Livvy’s great,” my friend adds, “but we’re, like, family.” I don’t expect him to jump in like this, but it’s a relief to hear it.
“It certainly could have been the concussion,” Dad says. “I wouldn’t worry about it. No one saw it.”
Mom glances at my phone, putting two and two together. “I gather someone saw it. Was Camille there?”
“I’m sure she was in the audience like the rest of you were,” I tell her, swallowing hard. “Some photographers saw us, though.”
“What photographers?”
“You know, the idiots who always seem to follow us around, Dad.”
“The paparazzi?”
“I guess so. Jon was running late to graduation, I guess... and he saw, too.”
Mom covers her mouth with her hand, the worry apparent in her eyes.
I put my head in my hands. I hear footsteps, then the sound of a computer powering on. I look up to see Finn’s father take a seat next to Dad, the laptop situated on the coffee table in front of them.
