Blue Monday

Chapter 7 - Suite Madame Blue

***GIDEON***

It's been over a week since we graduating seniors of Balthazar Academy were last here. Now, we're here for the last time, officially. It's graduation day at last.

Paul, as expected, leads the line of cap-and-gowned seniors (green for the guys, white for the girls) making their way onto the football field. Juliet is right behind him, then me. Between Paul and Juliet, there's a gap big enough to fit a whole other angel. As with many official things that have been going on at school since October 27th, the gap is there to represent the missing presence of Steve Walker.

The stands around the field are jam-packed, mostly with our parents. All our friends are gathered around the curved end of the track surrounding the football field, waiting to high-five us as we go by. I deliver high-fives in quick succession to all those non-seniors I know best - Alex and Gabe, Luca and Giovanni, even the ever-energetic Aron Smythe.

It's a surprisingly cool day for this time of year. The sun is shining, but the mountain air is crisp and more than a bit breezy. When I take my seat on one of the folding chairs arranged in ten rows of sixteen each, I shiver a bit as the wind blasts me in the face.

While Dr. Saltz launches into his big speech, congratulating the Balthazar Academy Class of 2015, I let my attention wander and take a look at all the people in the stands. The kids are still in the process of finding seats. I can pick out Alex and Gabe easily, though. They're the only ones wearing band T-shirts - Pink Floyd for Gabe, and Arcade Fire for Alex. I stifle a laugh, seeing Gabe wear the Dark Side of the Moon shirt - which I'm pretty sure is Alex's, unless Alex has his own identical copy. Wouldn't surprise me if he did.

Saltz finishes up, and then there's two more speeches for us to sit through. The first is from Paul (because he was class president), and the second, from Marco (valedictorian). I've already told both of them that I probably won't remember anything either of them says, and they're both okay with that. Marco actually said himself that his speech wouldn't cover any new ground, really, and that what he really wants to say, he can't really find the words for.

I don't blame him. We all went through way too much, especially in November.

So while the two guys talk up front, I keep looking around at the stands, trying to spot other familiar figures. The only others I'm able to find are the Scagliotti family and the Smythes, with Aron sitting right between his own parents.

Finally, the time comes for all of us to walk up to Dr. Saltz and get our diplomas. There's only a small handful of names ahead of mine, all called by Saltz in the same loud, oddly singsong tone as he tries to emphasize every syllable. A few names trickle into my ear, names of guys and girls I shared classes with but never really got to know. "Wina Abarca...Cody Amundsen...Eric Ash...Debra Bilodeau...David Brody...Gideon Cabrera."

I almost don't respond when Saltz calls my name - I'm still not as used to my new name as I thought, I guess. But my reaction is delayed only for a couple of seconds. And hey, Saltz at least managed to get my name right - which is what every educator, especially in California where there's so many people with foreign names, seems to strive for and never achieve.

I'm somehow one of only two people in the entire class with a last name beginning with "C." I mean, sure, there's not even two hundred of us. But "C" seems like a common enough letter. Nevertheless, Saltz goes past me to "Jennifer Chang," then skips ahead to "Lauren Dunn...Samantha Freeman...Ashwin Ganti...Jeremy Griffith...Priya Gupta...Theresa Gupta..." The proceedings move on, still as monotonous as ever. There seems to be a lot more "L"s than any other letter - for example, "Nicole Lieu...Sally Lin...Alejandro Lopez...Aidan Lu..." Then it seems there's nobody with a last name from "M" to "R," because in no time at all, Saltz calls "Juliet Ripley." Then he jumps ahead to "Marco Scagliotti" (whose last name he doesn't screw up, somehow), followed by "Paul Smythe." I definitely remember Paul going up to get his diploma, though, because as soon as he's done shaking Saltz's hand, he turns to the crowd and serves us a two-fingered salute. Everyone chuckles along with him as he finally comes down and returns to his seat.