Diplomat High

Chapter 22.4 - Homecoming with Hillary

You spot Hillary standing near the fountain, her eyes darting around. She's wearing a light blue chiffon dress that reaches her knees, a short pair of black wedges, and a silver necklace and bracelet. In the light, she looks dazzling. You're pretty sure she's out dressing you by a mile, similarly to how her intelligence dwarfed yours by a mile. Though, you liked to think you were bright enough. 

You walk towards her, imagining all the possibilities you could mess this up. Hundreds of them appear in your mind, and you wonder if you should turn around now to save both you and Hillary that embarrassment. It didn't help that those oatmeal raisin cookies disguised as chocolate weren't really agreeing with you. 

Hillary's face lights up when her eyes land on you. "Y/n... you look great."

"Thank you." You smile. "You look wonderful, too."

She adjusted the strap of her dress. "I've never come here, so I was a little worried I underdressed."

"First time for both of us."

"Really?" She seems genuinely shocked at the piece of information. You suppose she hasn't met the worst parts of you yet or found out that you've been talking to the ghost of Abraham Lincoln during the school year.

"Yeah, really. But it's great that I get to go with you."

"I agree." She glanced around. "There's so much to do. I'm overwhelmed by choice."

"Personally, I'd start with the food and drinks."

She laughs. "Not a bad idea."

"It might take me a while, if I'm honest. You want me to grab you something?"

"Maybe just a fruit punch if they have any. They've got a line for a photo booth over there, so I'll hold the line."

"It's a plan."

She smiles at you as you walk away. You head to the food and drink area, her infectious smile on your face. You think this is going well, but maybe you could be wrong. You either thought things were awful or perfect, because was there even really an in between?

If it was going awful, then you needed to hurry up and find that fruit punch to recover this. 

"Good evening, y/n."

You gasp, almost spilling your drink as you see that Lincoln's has appeared next to you. "What are you doing here?"

He smiles. "I just wanted to stop by to let you know how proud I am of you."

That was sentimental of him. "Aw, thanks. I'm proud of you, too."

"I have become the most perfect man. Union, if you will." He chuckles to himself. "But how is it going? Must I haunt that man as retribution?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's perfect. Everything's perfect." And for once, it didn't feel like you were exaggerating.

"I'm glad to hear that. You've worked hard for this." His expression grows thoughtful. "You know, I knew someone that made me feel such a way as you feel now."

"Your wife?" you question.

A wistful look crosses his eyes. "Rather... someone more general." He clears his throat. "But, um, I guess this is where I say goodbye."

"Goodbye? What do you mean?"

"You know, I've done a bit of rambling on the space time continuum, and this is it. This is where my path ends, I've realized succinctly in my time of brooding and ghosting."

Your face falls. "You're... leaving?"

"I am." He gives you a sad smile. "You've done it, y/n. It's time you realize you aren't nothing but rather someone very special. There's proof in the person who decided to invite you, Emmanuel. And you... I'll miss you. But I've heard heaven is a pretty place. At least I hope that's where I'm going now. I'd rather not be downstairs at that place where Reagan is primed to be in."