So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act VI, Scene IV
Jump to graduation. A lot has happened in two months. I turned eighteen, for starters. And that’s nice because I was getting tired of being jailbait. I got a cell phone for my birthday, which is also nice because now I don’t tie up the lines when I have lengthy conversations with Mike at two in the morning (not that that happens very often but still). I’m graduating in the top 5% of my class, which is quite a feat, might I add. I got a special ribbon and everything.
Let’s see. What else happened?
Oh. Dad got a girlfriend (or, at least, I finally met her). Her name is Dianne and she’s pretty great. She’s happy and funny and kind. Exactly what Dad needs. Exactly what Mom used to be before she went crazy.
When he first told me he had a new girlfriend, I was upset, to say the least. I felt I was the only woman he ever needed in his life. But once I recognized that I was being unreasonable, selfish, and completely unfair, I grew to be okay with it. I saw how happy my dad was and I got over it. Dianne is perfect for him, really.
I like to believe I’ve matured.
Um, my room is mostly packed up. I’m living with Dad for the summer and then moving into the dorms at GSU once the quarter starts. It was tough talking to my mom about moving away from her, but I think she understood why I had to in the end. She conceded defeat and bought me a toaster. Thanks, Mom.
The Academy are going pretty strong. They’re really working their asses off. Mike graduated a week ago and I haven’t seen him since. I think he has been living on William’s couch, though I have no idea how William found time to be in a band full time and also study for his finals.
Mike and I haven’t been talking too much, just because there hasn’t been a lot of time. The past week has been filled to the brim with study guides and packing tape and thank you cards. I don’t remember the last time I got a proper night’s sleep because I’ve just been so fucking busy.
I’m sitting in the gymnasium, surrounded by a bunch of people I never took the time to meet or talk to. I’m not sure if I even know the names of the people I’m sitting next to. At this point, it hardly even matters. We’re a sea of black robes and matching mortarboards and anxious ticks. We all look about the same.
Except that one kid with the gigantic, green mohawk. He stands out a bit.
The Valedictorian was giving the commencement speech and was droning on and on about the importance of education or something. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening. He is very dull and speaks very slowly. To make matters worse, I’m a bit drowsy. I’m sure I’ll perk up once diplomas are handed out, but right now, I’m ready for a nap.
And then the principal had to give a speech. And then there was a song. And then, finally, after four years of waiting, the first row of students stood, ready to accept their diplomas and get the fuck out of high school (after the closing speech, of course).
It seemed like a year had passed between the time the first person got their diploma and I approached makeshift stage to get mine. I barely even heard my name when it was called. It was like someone had shoved cotton balls into my ears. I shuffled toward the principal in my Converse, scared I was going to trip or do something wrong.
I was handed my diploma and shook hands with half a dozen administrators before I was able to go back to my seat in the middle of the sea of students.
Graduating was all too surreal for me. Wasn’t I just packing my room into thousands of boxes, complaining about how dumb moving was and how much I didn’t want to live in Chicago?
And imagine what would have happened to me if we would have stayed in Arizona? I wouldn’t have these experiences, would I? Sure, I’d do some amazing things with some amazing people, but they wouldn’t come close to all of the time I had spent with my friends here in Chicago.
There wouldn’t be Barrington versus Schaumburg games, Marcy or Sean, no William Beckett and no Christine Bandy, I wouldn’t have met Jack or Adam or AJ or Little Mike, I wouldn’t have spent time in basements and garages, listening to music with people I barely knew, and I most certainly would not have met Mike Carden, and that in itself is reason enough to appreciate the 1,800 mile move from Phoenix, Arizona to Chicago, Illinois.
I mean, he is so much more than my best friend now. He is the only person I share my drinks with. He is the only person who is allowed to sleep in my bed – even when he’s sick or stinky or cranky. He is the only person who actually listens to me – not just waits for me to finish talking so he can start speaking but actually hears me and understands what I am saying. But most importantly, he is the only person who sees me for me. Sure, this might be because he has known me for awhile and because he doesn’t get the toned down Vivi like everyone else does, but regardless, he is the only person who knows who I actually am. It’s a bit terrifying, knowing that someone knows how you really are, but he has stuck around this long, right?
Mike’s great. I’m really glad he decided to run head first into me on our first day of high school. Who knows what would have happened to me if he hadn’t?
All of a sudden, my hearing kicked back in and I heard our principal say, “Congratulate your class of 2003!”
Clapping, whistling, and the swishing of four hundred robes while everyone switched over their tassels was all I heard.
With the rest of my class, I exited the auditorium, searching for my family briefly before I stepped into the sunlight. I stood off to the side, not wanting to get trampled by my class and their families. It was pretty hot and I wished for a moment that I had at least brought sunglasses with me.
To my complete and utter surprise, Mike poked his head around the corner, smiled, and approached me, carrying a big bouquet. “Congratulations!”
I hugged him, a wide grin on my face. “I didn’t expect you to be here!”
“Well, it’s your graduation. Of course I came,” he said.
“Yeah, but…you didn’t have to. I’m glad you did but…”
“Seeing as I couldn’t graduate with you, this is the closest I could get,” he shrugged. “Oh, these are for you.” He handed me the bouquet. “My parents and Lucas say ‘congratulations’, by the way. They told me to put, ‘Love, The Cardens’ on the little note thing, but as they didn’t pick them up at eight o’clock in the morning…no.”
“Thank you, Mike. They’re lovely,”
“I pride myself on my bouquet picking abilities,”
“Mike, shut up. Just…please stop talking,”
I hugged him again, the bouquet getting squished between us. I gave him a kiss, just a quick one and I thought I would be in the clear, but no, my life must be full of embarrassment at all times. I heard a camera go off.
“Mom!” I whined, my cheeks burning. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Oh, don’t worry, it was cute,” she waved her hand at me. “Now…stand next to each other so I can take another one.”
“Moooooom!”
“Vivian, just do it,” she said. I pouted – I hate having my picture taken. Regardless, I stood next to Mike and attempted a pretty smile. I’m sure it turned out bad – they always do.
“Mike, can you take a picture of us?” my mom handed him the camera, not waiting for an answer.
I grumbled and stood next to my mom. “Just one picture, okay? And then I’ll take one with Dad and then I’m going to go find my friends.”
My mom sighed. “Alright, Vivi.”
Mom and I tried to look friendly and nice and like we loved each other for the camera. Once Mike took the picture, I thought I would be safe from her clutches.
I was wrong, however.
She hugged me as tightly as possible, tears streaming down her face. I admitted defeat and hugged her back. It was the least I could do. She is my mom, after all.
Just over her shoulder, I saw my dad and Dianne. I thought it was pretty ballsy that he brought Dianne along, but hey, his ass. Not mine.
“Mom,” I muttered, trying to pry her off of me. “I can’t breathe. Please let go.”
She let go of me, and gave me a watery smile. “It’s just…”
“I’m growing up so fast, yeah. I know, Mom. But squeezing the life out of me isn’t going to keep me from growing up,”
“Actually,” Mike started, “It would keep you from growing up because you can’t get any older once you’re dead.”
I looked at him in disbelief, my mouth slightly ajar. “So not the right time to say something like that.”
Mike smiled. “Sorry. I can’t help myself sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes at him and greeted my dad and Dianne, both of whom I hadn’t seen in quite a long time. “Hi, Dad, Dianne. Thanks for coming!”
After we exchanged hugs and more flowers and took pictures and whatnot, I finally got away. I left my flowers and diploma with my mom and assured her I would be at the restaurant in time. She likes to think I’m not a punctual person. I don’t know where she gets that idea. I am always on time.
I desperately wanted to take off my robe or take a nap or hide out in my room, but I had to find my other friends. I had to congratulate and rejoice with them. In reality, if it weren’t for the friends I had made this year, I probably wouldn’t have made it to graduation, as pathetic as that may be.
“So, you wanna come to dinner with us?” I asked Mike, scanning the crowd for William or Christine or Jack or someone I recognized and liked.
“Your mom already invited me,” Mike answered. “So it would be really cool if you could drive me because I don’t exactly have my car.”
“Where’s your car?”
“It’s at your house,”
“You drove here with my mom?” I asked incredulously. “I am so sorry.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Mike shrugged. “Oh, there’s Bill!” he shouted, pointing to the back of William’s head, which was visible a few inches above the crowd.
“That means we found the rest of them!” I exclaimed. “Fuck yeah! We can get this over with in one fell swoop!”
And so we did. Took a few more pictures, hugged a few more people, yes, but it only took a few minutes and then I politely excused Mike and myself.
When we arrived at my car, I did not hesitate to take off my robe and graduation cap. I stuffed them both in my trunk and swapped my shoes (Mom said I couldn’t wear my Converse to dinner).
“I was wondering what you were wearing under that,” Mike commented, getting into the passenger seat. “You look nice.”
“That was the point,” I groaned. “She wouldn’t let me wear jeans. Forced me to buy a dress. And heels.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “You should be happy. You’re out of high school. I mean, your life can actually begin now.”
Let’s see. What else happened?
Oh. Dad got a girlfriend (or, at least, I finally met her). Her name is Dianne and she’s pretty great. She’s happy and funny and kind. Exactly what Dad needs. Exactly what Mom used to be before she went crazy.
When he first told me he had a new girlfriend, I was upset, to say the least. I felt I was the only woman he ever needed in his life. But once I recognized that I was being unreasonable, selfish, and completely unfair, I grew to be okay with it. I saw how happy my dad was and I got over it. Dianne is perfect for him, really.
I like to believe I’ve matured.
Um, my room is mostly packed up. I’m living with Dad for the summer and then moving into the dorms at GSU once the quarter starts. It was tough talking to my mom about moving away from her, but I think she understood why I had to in the end. She conceded defeat and bought me a toaster. Thanks, Mom.
The Academy are going pretty strong. They’re really working their asses off. Mike graduated a week ago and I haven’t seen him since. I think he has been living on William’s couch, though I have no idea how William found time to be in a band full time and also study for his finals.
Mike and I haven’t been talking too much, just because there hasn’t been a lot of time. The past week has been filled to the brim with study guides and packing tape and thank you cards. I don’t remember the last time I got a proper night’s sleep because I’ve just been so fucking busy.
I’m sitting in the gymnasium, surrounded by a bunch of people I never took the time to meet or talk to. I’m not sure if I even know the names of the people I’m sitting next to. At this point, it hardly even matters. We’re a sea of black robes and matching mortarboards and anxious ticks. We all look about the same.
Except that one kid with the gigantic, green mohawk. He stands out a bit.
The Valedictorian was giving the commencement speech and was droning on and on about the importance of education or something. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening. He is very dull and speaks very slowly. To make matters worse, I’m a bit drowsy. I’m sure I’ll perk up once diplomas are handed out, but right now, I’m ready for a nap.
And then the principal had to give a speech. And then there was a song. And then, finally, after four years of waiting, the first row of students stood, ready to accept their diplomas and get the fuck out of high school (after the closing speech, of course).
It seemed like a year had passed between the time the first person got their diploma and I approached makeshift stage to get mine. I barely even heard my name when it was called. It was like someone had shoved cotton balls into my ears. I shuffled toward the principal in my Converse, scared I was going to trip or do something wrong.
I was handed my diploma and shook hands with half a dozen administrators before I was able to go back to my seat in the middle of the sea of students.
Graduating was all too surreal for me. Wasn’t I just packing my room into thousands of boxes, complaining about how dumb moving was and how much I didn’t want to live in Chicago?
And imagine what would have happened to me if we would have stayed in Arizona? I wouldn’t have these experiences, would I? Sure, I’d do some amazing things with some amazing people, but they wouldn’t come close to all of the time I had spent with my friends here in Chicago.
There wouldn’t be Barrington versus Schaumburg games, Marcy or Sean, no William Beckett and no Christine Bandy, I wouldn’t have met Jack or Adam or AJ or Little Mike, I wouldn’t have spent time in basements and garages, listening to music with people I barely knew, and I most certainly would not have met Mike Carden, and that in itself is reason enough to appreciate the 1,800 mile move from Phoenix, Arizona to Chicago, Illinois.
I mean, he is so much more than my best friend now. He is the only person I share my drinks with. He is the only person who is allowed to sleep in my bed – even when he’s sick or stinky or cranky. He is the only person who actually listens to me – not just waits for me to finish talking so he can start speaking but actually hears me and understands what I am saying. But most importantly, he is the only person who sees me for me. Sure, this might be because he has known me for awhile and because he doesn’t get the toned down Vivi like everyone else does, but regardless, he is the only person who knows who I actually am. It’s a bit terrifying, knowing that someone knows how you really are, but he has stuck around this long, right?
Mike’s great. I’m really glad he decided to run head first into me on our first day of high school. Who knows what would have happened to me if he hadn’t?
All of a sudden, my hearing kicked back in and I heard our principal say, “Congratulate your class of 2003!”
Clapping, whistling, and the swishing of four hundred robes while everyone switched over their tassels was all I heard.
With the rest of my class, I exited the auditorium, searching for my family briefly before I stepped into the sunlight. I stood off to the side, not wanting to get trampled by my class and their families. It was pretty hot and I wished for a moment that I had at least brought sunglasses with me.
To my complete and utter surprise, Mike poked his head around the corner, smiled, and approached me, carrying a big bouquet. “Congratulations!”
I hugged him, a wide grin on my face. “I didn’t expect you to be here!”
“Well, it’s your graduation. Of course I came,” he said.
“Yeah, but…you didn’t have to. I’m glad you did but…”
“Seeing as I couldn’t graduate with you, this is the closest I could get,” he shrugged. “Oh, these are for you.” He handed me the bouquet. “My parents and Lucas say ‘congratulations’, by the way. They told me to put, ‘Love, The Cardens’ on the little note thing, but as they didn’t pick them up at eight o’clock in the morning…no.”
“Thank you, Mike. They’re lovely,”
“I pride myself on my bouquet picking abilities,”
“Mike, shut up. Just…please stop talking,”
I hugged him again, the bouquet getting squished between us. I gave him a kiss, just a quick one and I thought I would be in the clear, but no, my life must be full of embarrassment at all times. I heard a camera go off.
“Mom!” I whined, my cheeks burning. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Oh, don’t worry, it was cute,” she waved her hand at me. “Now…stand next to each other so I can take another one.”
“Moooooom!”
“Vivian, just do it,” she said. I pouted – I hate having my picture taken. Regardless, I stood next to Mike and attempted a pretty smile. I’m sure it turned out bad – they always do.
“Mike, can you take a picture of us?” my mom handed him the camera, not waiting for an answer.
I grumbled and stood next to my mom. “Just one picture, okay? And then I’ll take one with Dad and then I’m going to go find my friends.”
My mom sighed. “Alright, Vivi.”
Mom and I tried to look friendly and nice and like we loved each other for the camera. Once Mike took the picture, I thought I would be safe from her clutches.
I was wrong, however.
She hugged me as tightly as possible, tears streaming down her face. I admitted defeat and hugged her back. It was the least I could do. She is my mom, after all.
Just over her shoulder, I saw my dad and Dianne. I thought it was pretty ballsy that he brought Dianne along, but hey, his ass. Not mine.
“Mom,” I muttered, trying to pry her off of me. “I can’t breathe. Please let go.”
She let go of me, and gave me a watery smile. “It’s just…”
“I’m growing up so fast, yeah. I know, Mom. But squeezing the life out of me isn’t going to keep me from growing up,”
“Actually,” Mike started, “It would keep you from growing up because you can’t get any older once you’re dead.”
I looked at him in disbelief, my mouth slightly ajar. “So not the right time to say something like that.”
Mike smiled. “Sorry. I can’t help myself sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes at him and greeted my dad and Dianne, both of whom I hadn’t seen in quite a long time. “Hi, Dad, Dianne. Thanks for coming!”
After we exchanged hugs and more flowers and took pictures and whatnot, I finally got away. I left my flowers and diploma with my mom and assured her I would be at the restaurant in time. She likes to think I’m not a punctual person. I don’t know where she gets that idea. I am always on time.
I desperately wanted to take off my robe or take a nap or hide out in my room, but I had to find my other friends. I had to congratulate and rejoice with them. In reality, if it weren’t for the friends I had made this year, I probably wouldn’t have made it to graduation, as pathetic as that may be.
“So, you wanna come to dinner with us?” I asked Mike, scanning the crowd for William or Christine or Jack or someone I recognized and liked.
“Your mom already invited me,” Mike answered. “So it would be really cool if you could drive me because I don’t exactly have my car.”
“Where’s your car?”
“It’s at your house,”
“You drove here with my mom?” I asked incredulously. “I am so sorry.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Mike shrugged. “Oh, there’s Bill!” he shouted, pointing to the back of William’s head, which was visible a few inches above the crowd.
“That means we found the rest of them!” I exclaimed. “Fuck yeah! We can get this over with in one fell swoop!”
And so we did. Took a few more pictures, hugged a few more people, yes, but it only took a few minutes and then I politely excused Mike and myself.
When we arrived at my car, I did not hesitate to take off my robe and graduation cap. I stuffed them both in my trunk and swapped my shoes (Mom said I couldn’t wear my Converse to dinner).
“I was wondering what you were wearing under that,” Mike commented, getting into the passenger seat. “You look nice.”
“That was the point,” I groaned. “She wouldn’t let me wear jeans. Forced me to buy a dress. And heels.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “You should be happy. You’re out of high school. I mean, your life can actually begin now.”