by Lara Avery
Now the gym is standing room only, and everyone’s voices are swirling around in one big roar.
I should probably go. They are lining us up out there by last name. I’ll be between William Madison and Lynn Nguyen. Everyone is taking photos of themselves, and here I am, typing on a toilet. If I fail, let it be known that I was here, in a bathroom stall, going over the speech one more time. I tried.
It’s funny that I’m thinking about Coop again, but I can’t get what he said the other day in the hallway out of my head: “Sometimes it’s just about timing.”
Speak of the devil, someone just peeked his head in here and yelled, “Samantha Agatha McCoy! You better get your butt out here!”
Yeah, that had to be Coop.
Here goes nothing.
YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM HERE
For a minute, everything about Nationals seemed to repeat itself in a terrifying display of one-upmanship. Nationals: The Sequel. Nationals 2: The Return of Dementia. Rows and rows of fluorescent gym lights replaced the stage lights, and the audience multiplied from a few disinterested high schoolers and their families into a country of faces, my classmates into huddled blue boulders, punctuated by the flashes of hundreds of cameras, all silent and waiting.
I was in the wings.
Mrs. Townsend walked across the stage, her heels echoing, and took her place behind the podium, a scholarly maroon ribbon now around her shoulders.
“Ladies, gentlemen, families, graduating class,” she said, and she paused for the screams and whoops of the seniors. “Your valedictorian, Samantha McCoy.”
I walked—no, skated—no, floated. To steady myself, I put my elbows on the podium, and clasped my hands.
To the blurs that were everyone’s important people, I called out, “Oliver Goldsmith once said, ‘The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.’”
Then my brain turned off, but in a different way than it had done before. It turned off any other words or feelings or thoughts besides the ones coming out of my mouth. It was as if it knew that this was not the place to question, and told me, Okay, we’re here now. I’ll take it from here.
As I spoke, instead of thinking, I saw. I saw many random things, Future Sam. Stuart’s eyes under dark lashes across the table from me at the restaurant, looking at his milk shake and laughing, and Mrs. Townsend’s relaxed face as she typed at her computer, and the blue glow of the aquarium in the doctor’s office on Davy’s face as she watched the betta swim.
Ten minutes later, I was saying, “So when it all gets to be too much, it’s all right that you might ask yourself where you have fallen, why you have fallen, and to tell yourself that you will never fall the same way again. That’s how our education, both in life and at school, will serve us. But the work isn’t over. Use the knowledge that you will rise for the purpose of joy, and goddamnit—” The crowd laughed.
I hadn’t planned that part, but it just came out. I looked back at the teachers, some of them tittering, some of them shaking their heads.
“Goddamnit,” I continued, unable to contain a laugh myself. “Get back up.”
My classmates’ faces came into focus. “Thank you,” I said, and they cheered.
But the real reward was after. Like, right now. Well, not right now.
Right now I’m in the car. But right after the ceremony.
Okay, you know how sad and pissed I was about how unfair it is that thirty seconds could change four years of work? It turns out I spoke too soon, because it works the other way, too.
When we cheered for the last time as high schoolers together, and our caps floated down, it was like the senior class at Hanover had been this Jenga tower of blocks that immediately fell.
Lynn Nguyen turned to me and hugged me as if we’d known each other all our lives, and we both high-fived Will Madison, and people who I only knew by name and the backs of their heads came up to me, telling me “good job,” but that’s not the best part: The best part was that suddenly I remembered what was great about them, too, as if I’d been soaking it up all this time without realizing it, and I wanted to tell them everything, and know everything about them. But not, like, their deepest desires or how they felt about income inequality, but just how they were. What they were up to.
“Lynn, will you be sticking around the Upper Valley? I heard you were going for an internship at that magazine.”
“Elena, your solo was amazing. Where did you get those tennis shoes with the heels? I didn’t even know tennis shoes could have heels!”
“Will, are you going to play soccer at the University of Vermont next year?”
Future Sam, I was small-talking.
And pretty soon we were all making plans to hang out at Ross Nervig’s tonight (not that I was invited, specifically, but they didn’t exclude me—I mean, they said I should come, but anyway), and I actually want to go.
Not to mention, Maddie will be there. She had woven through a couple of rows of chairs, and when she got close enough to me to say something, she didn’t speak at all, she just hugged me, and I hugged her back, hard.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her exposed ear, the buzzed part of her hair dyed a deep maroon to match Hanover’s colors. Along with the rest of the members of the Queer Union, her robe was draped in cords of every color of the rainbow.
“Sorry for what?” she said back, and we let go.
“If I used you.”
She smiled a sad smile, “I’m sorry, too. I was going through some shit.”
“There was some truth to it, I think.”
“But now…” She gestured around to the buzz of happy people in the bright gym. “It’s actually no big deal now. We’re graduated. High school is no longer a big deal. Especially for you.”
“You’re so right!” I said, and let out a ha sound, because a knot had come undone inside me. It was a knot that held a lot together, so it was necessary for a time, but she was right. High school was no longer a big deal.
“But you know what I will still be sorry about?” I said, gulping.
“What?” Maddie said, making a little frown, poking fun.
“I am sorry we weren’t better friends earlier.”
“Well!” she said, tossing her cap and catching it. “We’ve got plenty of time now!”
“Maddie!” Stacia called Maddie’s name from over by her parents. Pat was with them, too. I didn’t know if Maddie and Stacia were back together, but like everything else, it didn’t seem to matter. Maddie seemed happy.
“Gotta go,” she said.
I caught her sleeve. “I’ll see you at Ross Nervig’s tonight?”
As she walked backward in Stacia’s direction, Maddie’s mouth fell open, then closed. “Sammie McCoy wants to party.” She pretended to zip it shut. “Not going to ruin this. Not going to say a word. But yes. I’ll see you tonight.”
When the crowd had thinned somewhat, Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa found me, followed by Harrison and Bette and Davy, all tucked in and brushed and buckled into their church clothes.
“We’re so proud of you,” Mom said as she hugged me, one of her clutching hugs that verges on the brink of too tight but never quite gets there.
“So proud,” Dad repeated, and joined in.
Bette and Davy took my waist from either side with their skinny arms, smelling like the popcorn they were giving out in the lobby, while Harrison touched Bette’s head and said, “This is me hugging you,” which was good enough.
Grandma and Grandpa took their turn, their white heads the same exact height. Grandma handed me a thick envelope tucked in a copy of Caddie Woodlawn, my favorite book, which I would ask her to read to me as a little girl, which set me off crying again.
Above all their heads, I saw Stuart standing several feet away, looking like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ (in my opinion), my favorite white button-down glowing under a thin black tie.
We made eye contact and smiled so huge and excited, I swear the way my
heart jumped it was like the first time I had seen him all over again, except this time I was the opposite of paralyzed, I was resisting the urge to run and jump into his arms. He looked away for a moment, and I tried to wipe the trail of mascara that was probably running down my cheeks on the back of my hand.
When I looked back up, he was making a “one minute” motion—it appeared Dale and his parents wanted to speak to him on the other side of the gym. I gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to my family with the sweetest smile I could muster.
“Hey, Mom and Dad, can I go to a party tonight?”
“Nice one, Sammie, get us when we’re in a good mood,” Dad said, putting Harrison in a playful headlock.
“But seriously! Please?”
“Mmm,” Mom said. “You can have friends over to our place, if you’d like!”
“But…”
“I don’t think so, honey,” Dad said.
“Oh, Mark, let her go,” Grandma said, putting her hand on my back and giving me a small smile. “She deserves to celebrate.”
“Ha!” Dad said. “Like you would have let me go to a graduation party.”
“No, but your dad did,” Grandma said, tossing a look at her husband.
“It’s true, I did,” Grandpa said, and winked at me.
Mom sighed. “You’re going to make my hair turn gray,” she said, looking at me. Then to Grandpa, “No offense.”
“Is your friend with the Mohawk going?” Dad asked. “The one who can do CPR?”
“Maddie? Yeah!” That was almost a yes. I had to resist clapping my hands with excitement. Maddie was still across the gym. “Maddie!” I shouted.
“What?” she shouted back.
“We’re hanging out tonight, right?” I gave her a pointed look.
“Yep!” she shouted. “Definitely!”
I told them that I would meet Stuart or Maddie in the parking lot, that we would go together. After tons of photos and kisses good-bye, and one last “be smart” from Mom and Dad, everyone left.
So now I’m sitting here in the parking lot, in the car, which Mom and Dad are letting me take as long as I get home by midnight.
What happened at Nationals was just a mistake. Bad timing. And even if it happens again while I’m at NYU, I can explain my condition. It only happens rarely, I can tell them. I will never be as bad as the worst-case scenario.
I’m writing to you right now, even when I could be celebrating, because I have realized the common factor every time I’ve succeeded—writing to you, Future Sam. It must be working. Something, at least, is working. To make up for all the nights spent at home, in the library, bossing people around, all the nights spent memorizing—I want to celebrate tonight, and I want tonight to last for a long time.
The only problem: Stuart already left to let me be with my family, and is now twenty minutes away. Maddie left, too. I told Stuart no big deal, go with Dale, and that he could meet me there. SO. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if I went by myself. Coop texted me the address. It’s just one drive, after all, and my mind is stronger than ever.
I am so embarrassed. I’m sort of lost. I can’t quite remember why. So I’m reading this back and of course I remember that I’m going to this party at Ross Nervig’s and that Coop texted me the address, but I’m looking at the address and I can’t remember how to get there. So I’m just going to put it in the GPS, duh, but then I forgot what street I was literally on! So, yeah. I pulled over until this passes.
It’s graduation. Duh. I looked at what I wrote earlier. BUT now I’m just like WHERE AM I GOING AGAIN.
So, this is not a good sign.
I should proabbly call my mom but she would murder me, so I’m just going to let this pass.
Okay, I read earlier that I’m going to graduation, I know that, because I read it TWICE NOW because this is so embarrassing.
I mean, not graduation, to the party AFTER graduation.
hi is this okay its very dark and at least this is light and bright i shut off the car don’t worry
im okay i think im just not there yet but my hands are kind of shaky
future sam okay I am feeling a little better but i can’t rememebr where i was going! i took a little walk by the car. there were other cars heading somewhere and i almost flagged one of them down but they didn’t see me, their headlights are too bright and they look very bad and have mean eyes
i was driving to school I was coming from school
OK. Okay. This is stupid.
Boy I am lost. This looks familiar, this looks like my street.
once i read a story about a giant a friendly giant in london who blew dreams into peoples bedrooms in little bubbles and the girl saw him but he caught her and put her on his shoulder and took her to giant country
the friendly giant is a good one it was a whole chapter book
why was i talking about giants oh yeah
coop and i used to build houses out of pine needesl and play giants stomping on the houses did i ever tell you that the dark feles like the shadow of a giant down the road coming toward me and stomping on the mean cars
Did I call Coop? I’m not doing so well. I’m doing so well. I’m going to call COop again befre this get s worse
uh oh feeling weird agani FEELING WEIRD WEIRD WRIED WIERD I’m just going to sit for while until If eel better
write about things you know
when you’re scared you can write about things you know
RUNNING
I’m Frankenstein’s monster, lying in the cleanest room I’ve ever seen. I just woke up to a card from Bette lying on the table next to my hospital bed with just a big, blank circle that she drew, it says “get better”
Flowers from the Townsends
Flowers from Maddie
Flowers from Stuart
But the card made me cry because it continually reminds me of what I forgot
I got lost on the route around the mountain, past town
It reminds me of the maps we used to draw
When she and Harry and Coop and me (Davy was too small) would spend the day circling through Strafford, first running down the mountain, then running to the creek, then running into Strafford, saying hello to Fast Eddy where he sits outside the general store—Fast Eddy, the self-appointed policeman who also acts as the mailman—and then into the general store for Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper, then running back to the creek for lunch, then running back up the mountain to the backyard to play giants, then dinner
Once we drew a map of our world and plotted our route, and of course it was very simple
It was just a circle, and it was enough
PLEASE
Coop found me on the side of the road and took me home. I’ve been in and out of the hospital for a week. There are new updates every time I go in there, all of it reducing Mom and Dad into dark-eyed sacks of fabric next to my hospital bed, all of it bad. I have:
jaundice-like symptoms
an enlarged liver
an enlarged spleen
All of this contributes to the grand prize: I am also in the process of “mild retardation”! That’s why I saw giants on the side of the road and typed like an infant.
I haven’t written much to you until now because I don’t really want to remember any of this, Future Sam, and you, as I had initially conceived you, don’t exist anymore. Stock up on palm tree shirts. Resign to swollen lips, yellowing skin, droopy eyes. You will have a useless high school diploma and a gimp leg. You will drool a lot.
I can’t imagine what I look like now. All my bodily functions in one bed already grosses me out, but thankfully I haven’t seen anyone else.
I told Stuart my parents had changed their mind the night of graduation and made me stay home, where my phone had died. Then, when I found out I would be practically living at the hospital, I told him I was sick, a bad case of strep, and he shouldn’t see me because I am contagious. I wish Stuart would come find me anyway, find me sleeping and kiss me awake, like a Disney movie or
something, and never leave my side. Then again, my mouth would taste like hospital Jell-O and dry rot from sleeping with my mouth open and barely getting to brush my teeth, so maybe that’s a bad idea. And it will never happen anyway.
We are waiting to find out whether or not I can at least go to college, at least first semester, before all this shit goes down.
Their initial answer was no, but I was like, please, please, this won’t last forever, just let me go, put me in classes for dumb people, just let me get out. The one thing I can still have, please. Please please please please please.
They got me on some kind of sleep medicine–type stuff because I am awake in the middle of the night and I am pretty sure I’m not supposed to be awake
I’m pretty sure there is something standing in the corner of the hospital room. Not sure if it’s a nurse or not because it’s too dark, but my beeping is still going, which means I’m still alive, and I can type, which means my brain is still connected to my hands, but there are daggers in my throat every time I swallow, and I can feel a deep brown bruise throbbing where the IV is pumping food in, or blood out, I’m not sure at this point
I remember someone sticking a long cold needle in my butt cheek
This blanket is so itchy but when I take it off it feels like ice in the air, way too cold
I can’t bite down all the way, I don’t know what’s in there
My eyeballs ache
I tried to do some reading on the Internet but this thing isn’t hooked up to the Wi-Fi and I have honestly been sitting here awake for perhaps hours just trying to figure out what that white thing in the corner is
It doesn’t disappear so it’s not those floaty things across your vision
It doesn’t move so it’s not a human being
It’s too big to be a curtain or coat rack
All I can do here is wait for the sun, which I have no idea of knowing how close or far away I am from the setting or rising because someone fucked with my computer battery and the time is just blinking 12, 12, 12
