Gemma shivered when Maisie pulled open the doors, not because of the cold breeze that blew into the hot and crowded gym, but because she expected an alarm to sound—if not the actual fire alarm—which was a distinct possibility—but the dreaded Mom alarm. The alarm that had no sound, that was less visible and harder to trace than radar and yet, was more powerful than any force known to man…or to at least to Gemma.
She cast a worried glance in the corner where she had last seen her mother. Couples swayed on the dance floor beneath sparkling lights. Some students, although Gemma supposed she could now call them—and herself—alumni, after all they had just graduated, hovered around the refreshment table, guzzling lemonade and munching on the cookies.
Gemma spotted her mother near the center of the room. Maggs was busy with Marissa Lyon, a busty girl in a spaghetti strap dress who had snapped a strap. Marissa would keep her mother occupied with safety pins—and if Gemma was lucky and Marissa unlucky—a lecture on modesty, vanity clothing and the general ineptitude of little fabric straps pitted against heavy, teenage breasts.
Having Maggie in her orbit usually made Gemma want to crawl under the bleachers, but Maisie tugged on her hand pulled her through the high school gym doors. Gemma sent her mother one more worried glance and met the gaze of Mr. Harmon, the hottest biology teacher to tease the girls of Twain High. It was painful enough to have to listen to a lecture on the reproductive cycle while being surrounded by sniggering football players but to have Mr. Harmon deliver said lecture made Gemma’s insides twist in uncomfortable knots. Hormonal for Harmon, her friend Deidre called it—referring to her own seventh period perpetual pink cheeks.
Mr. Harmon saw them leave. Would he tell her mom? Gemma swallowed and followed Maisie. Up ahead, Deidre and Tessa ran through the moonlight, their shoes dangling from their fingers. Gemma and Maisie hurried to catch up, tripping across the black top, stepping over where they had once played hopscotch and passing the jungle gym, affectionately called the “big toy.”
Gemma fought back a wave of nostalgia when Deidre and Tess disappeared behind Fred, the tree where they had spent every recess and every lunch break since first grade. She couldn’t remember who had first named the tree—or why—but they had been saying “meet me at Fred” for more than twelve years. Tonight could possibly be the second to the last time they would meet at Fred.
A wind picked up and a shiver ran down Gemma’s spine. She looked at her friends and tried to return their smiles –she wouldn’t let envy spoil their last night at Twain High together. She loved her friends. She wanted them to have shiny, bright futures…she just wished that her own had a few more sparkles and less dirty diapers.
“Hurry!” Tessa called/whispered.
Deidre held up her hands like a police man conducting traffic and Gemma and Maisie both stopped.
“No,” Deidre used her normal speaking voice. “A time capsule cannot be hurried.”
“What if we’re caught?” Tessa asked, raising her voice to almost audible.
Gemma thought about mentioning Mr. Harmon, but she didn’t. If they were caught, they were caught.
“What can they do? Expel us—after we have already graduated?” Deidre asked, making Gemma wonder if Deidre wanted Mr. Harmon to catch them.
Gemma wasn’t as nearly as worried about Mr. Harmon as she was about her own mother, but she agreed with Deidre. Something as important as a time capsule shouldn’t be hurried.
