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Keep in Touch [2]
By AlanGrant5
KEEP IN TOUCH
Written by Devin Da Graca
The Class of 2004.
Me and my best friend, Brandon.
CHAPTER TWO – 10 AM
Seated in alphabetical order, I found myself sandwiched between David Cohen and Jake Dubowski. David, who sat to my left, was the class nerd. He slicked his hair back, harvested numerous pimples on his frail physic, and when he laughed was either in need of an inhaler or a shovel to his face, as it was the most annoying sound you’d ever hear. To my right was Jake, who was rumored, and has been rumored for several years now, to be homosexual. Before the graduation ceremony he’d told me in an act of what seemed to be confidential, “You know what would have been really cute? If they’d made the cap tassels a variation of colors and not just gold. You know, like a mixture of red, gold, and white.” In return, I had told him, “You should be a graduation gown designer” to which he replied, with a snap of the wrist, “Laugh out loud, I know!” Yup, he was gay alright.
The church was humongous, but looked smaller thanks to the hundreds of parents and family friends that compacted the place. Scheduled to be an hour ceremony, within fifteen minutes I was already beginning to grow weary of the tedious event. The day had already started off as a warm one, 85 degrees I think the thermometer outside had indicated, and the stage lights were of no help, as it beat down on our polyester gowns with an unrelenting mercy. We all just sat there, under the hot lights, like a bunch of impatient chicks ready to escape incubation.
Turns out I wasn’t the only one growing impatient. Looking around, I found many of my fellow graduates entertaining themselves- Brandon and Kevin, two of my best friends, were busy abusing each other. Brandon would smack Kevin upside the head, knocking off his cap, allowing a few seconds to pass until he repeated the action, while all Kevin did was thrust his clenched fist towards Brandon, stopping just inches within physical impact as if his arm were being restrained by a chain. This ‘art of war’ pattern continued throughout the ceremony.
Daniel and Jim, two of my other friends, who sat several seats away from each other, had connected their Game Boy’s together- the two of them fighting to the deaths, a brutal game of tetris. It didn’t take long for their game to be interrupted though, as Miss Floyd, the 11th grade American History teacher who looked like Dustin Hoffman (perhaps the reason she was still a “miss” in her 53rd year in life) pulled the connecting cable, whilst quietly scolding them. Their reaction to the incident was similar to how two preschooler’s would respond to a bully knocking over their building blocks, only in this day and age, their response included not only a look of disappointment, but also the middle finger, which the two of them made sure would be facing her backside as opposed to her front.
Lisa, a former girlfriend of mine and current ‘undecided’, sat in her chair, pulling and retracting a string of gum with her finger. As I watched her, I found it funny how throughout the years, she’d been able to drag me on a roller coaster of emotion, frequently changing what I felt for her along the way. From love to hate, friend to foe, and back to friend again, one thing was certain- we had history together, much of which had formed me into the person I was today. So, no matter how often I’d thought of how we came to be, what had ended our dating relationship, I couldn’t deny the impact she had left on my life. She had led me to believe that it’s the people who change us that deserve a place in our lives, not the one’s who don’t. For better or worse, I came to the decision that she was a keeper.
“Supposed to be on the left side pal,” Kelly whispered into my ear, sliding my tassel from the right side of my cap, to the left.
I turned around in my seat and found Kelly smiling at me. I was eighteen years of age, and even then, Kelly always somehow managed to make me feel like a shy little seven year old that was still susceptible to cuddies. At the same time, Kelly also had the tendency to bring out the very best comedian in me- that, I believe, was due to her smile, which was a sight to inspire any man to become a funny one.
I returned the smile and waved for her to lean in closer. Once she was close enough, I moved her tassel to the right of her cap and whispered, “So you can be cool like me.”
She laughed and leaned back into her seat. God she was beautiful. Sometimes her beauty was intimidating, making everything around her ugly, including you. She’d been going to Village Christian for seven years and in those seven years, I noticed her, but that’s about it. Then, just this last semester, we shared a theater arts class together that forced us to be on speaking terms. As the months pressed on, we became more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where she started calling me just because she was “bored”. I guess she got bored a lot.
“Devin!” Miss Floyd interjected, calling my attention towards the front. She placed her finger in front of her lips and pointed towards our high school principal, Mr. Plaisance, who was in the middle of giving the graduation address. I nodded my head apologetically and turned my head to face Mr. Plaisance.
“This is it you guys,” Mr. Plaisance, an overweight man of color said, “from here on out, everything that happens, happens because you made it happen. You’re the boss- you make your own decisions under your own permission and restriction. I can only hope that your time here at Village has made you aware of what those right decisions are. Take everything you’ve learned here at school and apply it to the hereafter.”
The man paused, turned his head to face us and said, “I’m going to miss all of you and it’s truly a privilege to end my career as a high school principal with you guys, the class of 2004. That said, let’s graduate you knuckle heads!”
And then it started; the never-ending distribution of diplomas. There were 135 graduating seniors, with about 25 of them having last names that were composed of seven syllables, most of which were of the Armenian nature. It took forever for the diplomas to be handed out and for the graduate to shake a line of hands that belonged to the school board- maybe it just seemed like it took forever because I was purposely slowing motion to make the moment last. Whatever the case had been, it was amazing to watch the people I’d grown up with graduate into, what we were being called, ‘adults’. It was all too surreal, almost unaffecting because the thought of us growing up and moving into adulthood seemed impossible.
By the time the diplomas had found their way to every letter of the alphabet, Mr. Plaisance took in one last look at our graduating class and breathed the following words that ignited our freedom: “Congratulations class of 2004, you are now Village Christian High School graduates.”
To my surprise, and I’m sure to the surprise of the audience and faculty, very little hats were thrown into the air. The majority of the class, myself included, were more preoccupied with the thought of moving after having spent an hour seated underneath hot lights.
“Graduates!” Mr. Plaisance addressed, just as we were making our way off the stage, “Don’t forget! The busses to Disneyland leave at 6 PM sharp. So make sure you show up at school at least fifteen minutes ahead of time. Anytime past 6 PM and we’ll leave with or without you.”
Making my way down the stage steps, I decided to swipe away any emotional feelings lured out by the graduating moment and label them as ‘unneeded’ as the day was not over. Grad night was still to come and even more memories were in store for the class of 2004- our last moments together had yet to arrive.
Thanks for reading, comments are appreciated! Look for Chapter 3 sometime this week!
8/27/2004 5:36:38 AM
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