The Life of She

She sits in a green and very uncomfortable plastic chair while the principal speaks. To her left and right, she is surrounded by people she doesn’t know, though she should. They’ve been in her class since first grade, yet she doesn’t know their names. They are friendly and include her in their conversations, but it’s only to pass the time.

The only thing they have in common is the last name and the trail they’ll follow to get their diplomas.

It’s too early in the morning as they practice their walks, remember where to sit, and try to stay awake through the talks. Friends who are lucky enough to sit together talk, but she is silent. These people are unknown to her.

The only thing they have in common is their graduation day.

She looks over the heads of her classmates for any familiar people, but finds none in any close distance. She can only listen as everyone else talks but her. They all talk about plans of parties and what they’ll do after graduation. She’s not going to any of them.

The only thing they have in common is their caps and gowns.

There’s too many speeches to be made before their names are to be called, and she’s too far in the back to be sitting in that chair for so long. She squirms and bumps into the people by her side. They don’t even notice. They want to leave as badly as she does.

The only thing they have in common is the need to get out.

They’re dismissed with strict reminders on when to be there and what to wear. The strange teens all leave with the same relief.

She remembers knowing that they have a lot more in common than she thought.