Dylan slaps my stomach. Earlier in the year that would’ve hurt, but now I barely flinch. I like who I’ve become in the past few months. I walk with confidence now. I still don’t have many guy friends, but I’m willing to make those changes when we move next week. I’m going to be a new person and leave behind this underdog.
“Knock, knock.” Mrs. Ross is standing in my doorway, not even caring that Dylan is lying on my bed. I think she knows, but as long as we aren’t getting into trouble, she doesn’t say anything. We’re allowed in each other’s rooms as long as they’re home and the doors stay open. For the most part we follow the rules.
Dylan and I sit up. Mrs. Ross comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. I can tell she’s been crying. I know she’s not excited about Dylan moving, but I told her I’d make sure she’s taken care of. We rented a two-bedroom apartment. Her parents will pay for our rent since they’re saving on dorm costs and I’ll find a job to cover the rest of our expenses, like food.
“What’s up, Mom?” Dylan asks as her mom shakes her head. They embrace and I hear crying, my cue to escape. I’ll let mom and daughter have their crying fest.
I find Mr. Ross in the garage working on Dylan’s car. We are taking it to New York, so he’s been putting a lot of money into it.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re crying.”
He rolls his eyes and hands me a wrench. “Let me teach you how to change the oil.”
We spend the next hour under her car learning how to change the oil and where to watch for trouble. He teaches me things that every dad should be teaching his son.
“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me this year. If it wasn’t –“
He sets his hand down on my arm, silencing me. “I did it because you deserved to have someone care about you. I sat back far too long and that incident woke me up. You needed someone to help you grow into a man and I needed someone to show me that I could make a change. You’ve turned into a standup young man and for that I’m proud. You could’ve taken what happened and turned down a path of self-destruction, but you didn’t.” He sets his hand on my shoulder, but I go in for a hug.
“Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you. You’ve changed things around here; it’s definitely for the best.” He pats me on the back and moves back to the car. He’s a decorated police officer. I can’t imagine sharing his feelings is easy for him to do.
The garage door opens to gasps. I turn to find Mrs. Ross standing there with her hand over her mouth. I look at her questioningly. Mr. Ross ignores her.
“Get inside and cleanup. We need to leave in half an hour and your hands, both of you,” she points at Mr. Ross, “are filthy.” She slams the door with emphasis, getting her point across.
Mr. Ross slaps me on the back. “Just think, Dylan is just like her.” He chuckles as he walks back into the house. I follow behind and see him grab Mrs. Ross and plant kisses on her while she fights to get away. Someday I’ll have a love like that.
“Dylan Jane Ross.”
I standup, whistling loudly when her name is called. Her parents stand too. Students were told to stay seated, but I can’t help it. I’m proud of her and excited to start a new journey with her. I continue to clap until she’s seated. She turns and looks at me, giving me the death glare. I shrug and take my seat, waiting for my turn. As other names are called, I grow anxious. I know my grades are good, that’s not the problem. The issue is, what if I can’t make it out in the real world, away from people like the Rosses who have provided me with the means to grow up properly. What if I fail?
“Ryan Michael Stone.”
I stand and walk down the steps to loud cheers. Dylan does the same as I did for her, as do her parents. But then I see my mom standing in the crowd. She’s jumping up and down and waving. I hate that I don’t live with her, but it’s been the best thing for me. I think our relationship is stronger for it, I just sometimes wish my dad wasn’t the way he is. There are things I missed that other kids have done, like fishing and Boy Scouts. Why couldn’t my dad be like those dads and want to do those things with me?
As I’m handed my diploma, the principal shakes my hand and we turn and have our picture taken. I’m sure this man doesn’t even know my name. He’s never had to call me to his office, he’s never given me an award and I’ve never done anything to be on his radar, good or bad. I’m not leaving a legacy behind. I didn’t letter in varsity sports, or have my name in the paper for doing something extraordinary like my classmates. I wasn’t a criminal. I didn’t paint the side of the school building for entertainment. I came to school daily. I went to each of my classes and turned in my homework on time. I studied and did well. Well enough that I could probably go to college, but can’t afford to send myself. I started high school as a nobody and am leaving just the same.
When I move to New York, I’m going to a community college. Mrs. Ross helped me fill out the necessary loan applications. I’ll have to pay the money back, but at least I’ll have an education. It may not be the big fancy school that Dylan is going to, but it’s something and it’s for me.
Most importantly, it gets me away from the mill and Brookfield. I’ll be doing something different. I won’t follow in my father’s footsteps. I’ll be better. I don’t know what I want to do, but a counselor will help me figure that out. Dylan suggested being a banker because I’m good at math, but all I can think about is climbing the stairs to the roof of our new apartment and lying out under the stars. I can’t wait to hear the horns honking and the sirens blaring.
I’m about to live a dream. One that I knew I wanted, but made possible by two people who took the time to care and help me achieve this goal. Sure, I could’ve moved there a long time ago. I’ve saved enough for a bus ride, but would’ve been living on the street, begging for a job and a place to sleep. I have a head start now.
As I walk back to my seat, Dylan winks at me. I sit down and flip open the top and see my name scrolled across parchment paper. It tells me that I’ve achieved the standards set forth by the state and that I’m a graduate.
If you asked me in September if I was going to graduate, the answer would’ve been no. I had every intention of following Hadley around. I don’t know if she would’ve asked me to or not, but I had hoped. And if she hadn’t, there was a bus ticket with my name on it, destination unknown, just as long as it was away from here.
Dylan asked me last night if I’m going to see my dad before we leave. I told her, honestly, that I didn’t know. He’s made no effort to try and be a dad and she reminded me that I haven’t tried to be a son. She’s right, of course.
When I look out to the crowd and see the other parents standing for their children, the parents videotaping and the ones holding bouquets of flowers, I can’t help but wonder why mine are the way they are. Why would parents have children if they don't want to dote on them and be proud of them?
We all stand as the principal announces us as the graduating class. As practiced, we pull off our caps and throw them in the air, each of us ducking as they come falling back to the ground with their pointy ends first.
Dylan waits for me as I descend the stairs. I grab her hand and pull her into the aisle, holding on to her tightly. We may not be together, but there isn’t another person I’d want to start my next journey with.