Just a Dare

Chapter Twenty-Four

I was drifting in a sea of orange synthetic silk gowns toward my assigned seat among the other students with last names that started with a "W", carefully averting my eyes from the "S" row as I sat down. I busied myself by looking around the large room that graduation took place in.

The ceiling arched high above our heads, rows and rows of seats for spectators encircling the small arena that the graduates sat in. To the front of the ellipse shape on the ground floor where we sat was a stage, where a few distinguished teachers and school board members resided in their seats, dressed in black garments similar to the ones we had on.

The overhead lights dimmed as the senior slideshow began, and much of the idle chatter died down. I hooted and fist-pumped when Jon's teasing grin flashed across the screen along with a drooling baby photo. More familiar faces made their way onto the projector, and I felt a thick lump form in my throat as Rob's shining grey eyes appeared.

It was hard to breathe when I saw that his childhood photo was of the two of us, arms haphazardly slung around each other's shoulders with glistening mud smeared on our smiling faces and clothes and grass stains on our knees.

I remembered that day. We were both about four years old and had played football outside right after it had rained. The game ultimately turned into a messy wrestling match in the mud, and we had agreed that our impending deaths for horrendously staining our clothes was worth the fun we'd had together. His mom had been the one to snap the photo.

I felt my eyes moistening and blinked rapidly in the darkness to make the tears dissipate as the slideshow continued.

I hadn't really ever given myself the chance to grieve properly for him because I had been so swept up in the dare and all the other shit that had piled on top of me this year, but I missed him.

It came and went in moments like this, when something monumental happened, and I would forget for a second that he was gone and my eyes would scan the crowd for him.

"We actually made it, Trey," I'd picture him turning around and saying with an awestruck grin, and if I thought hard enough I could almost see him then, his graduation gown pulled tightly over the wiry muscle of his back, cap dangling haphazardly from his head, his chair seemingly impossibly small for him as he leaned forward to watch the presentation with his forearms perched on his knees.

As the image of him slowly disappeared, I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I stared at the empty chair where he should have been.

Yes, Rob. We made it, I thought to myself, feeling one traitorous tear rolling around the curve of my nose.

I glanced around and quickly wiped it off while no one was looking at me and allowed myself to pretend, just for a moment, that he was just running late. It was easier to pretend than accept the harsh reality.

By the time I had returned my attention to the slideshow, the accursed "S" names were flashing across the gigantic screen from the projector. By the time that had gotten the chance to settle in my brain, there she was.

It was only a few damn pictures, but she still took my breath away. It was a candid shot of her laughing, her head thrown back slightly, eyes closed with her dark lashes splaying across her cheeks, and those perfect lips curled into the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

My body betrayed me as I looked at it, my heart pumping my blood impossibly fast as I stared at that picture.

The following photo, against every fiber of willpower I had, tugged my mouth into the smallest of smiles as I saw the toddler version of her smiling widely at the camera, her green eyes dancing with joy as she stood in a pink tutu and leotard, her hair pulled into a small bun on top of her head.