End Of The Line

(Again, these stories are not in order. I'm just posting whatever i write. I may put these in order one day and i'm sorry i'm kind of spitting random pages at you. I know it's sort of like tearing out a book and picking up pages one at a time and trying to put them together Oh, and Cheyenne, Michael is definitely not how he was on Family Ties or anything....)

Cheyenne watched the seniors of Birch Falls High stream into the gymnasium for their graduation ceremony. She'd already seen half the graduating class. Michael had to be coming out soon.

The gym was as hot as a thousand suns and stuffed like a turkey. It took Cheyenne nearly fifteen minutes to find a seat: a very tiny six or so inches on the fifth bleacher up.

She was sandwiched between a can-barely-sit-still little girl and a paunchy man who smelled like cigars. This was not the way she'd envisioned Michael's graduation. It was too bad Star's brother, David, went to a different school and had graduated last week. Cheyenne could have sat with Star's family. Or, if she weren't so chicken, she might have asked Michael's parents if she could sit with them down on the first row. Michael's parents weren't exactly warm and inviting, though. Not like Michael was.

A few seniors entered the gym, and still no Michael. Where was he?  He better not have skipped out and left her hanging. Not that he'd ever do that. At least, he would never leave her hanging; the skipping part, he would do. To Michael, there would be nothing funnier than skipping your own graduation ceremony. Michael would use that story for his kids and then his grandkids, too.

Streamers and balloons adorned the stage at the far end of the gym. There was a table stacked with leather-bound diplomas. Several metal folding chairs held school faculty.

Cheyenne looked over the sea of spectators and saw a few familiar faces.

A shrill whistle sounded, the heat waves carrying it up the bleachers to Cheyenne. She looked up and saw Michael. His eyes were on hers and he grinned, his forest green tassel hanging in front of his face.

Cheyenne smiled back and waggled her fingers at him.

He headed over to his seat near the stage while the last of the graduates entered the gym.

After the ceremony introduction, the principal and the valedictorian each made a speech. Before they handed out the diplomas, a slide show played on the screen.

When there ceremony was over, Cheyenne joined the exodus to the front lobby to get fresh air outside with the rest of the crowd. She waited beneath the sycamore tree where she and Michael had taken to meeting during their lunch hour.

Michael came out of the open double doors, Dean at his side.

Dean carried his graduation cap beneath an arm. Michael didn't have his, probably because he'd tossed it in the air at the close of the ceremony. His forest-green gown was already unzipped. Beneath it, he'd worn a black button-up shirt and his usual pair of jeans.

"I'll meet you at the car," Michael said to Dean.

"I won't wait long," Dean answered and ambled off to the parking lot.

Michael came up alongside Cheyenne, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Hi," he said.

"Hi."

He leaned over and kissed her softly. An excited chill ran up her spine despite the sweat still lingering there from the overheated gym.

"Congratulations," she said when Michael pulled away. "You're officially done with school."

He nodded and leaned his head against hers. "Officially done. I cannot wait to spend the summer with you. There will be virgin strawberry daiquiris, afternoons spent lying out in the sun, and many make-out sessions."

Cheyenne whapped him on the arm.

"Hey, now, i have a wet speedo contest later. You can't damage the goods."

Cheyenne threw her head back and laughed. "A wet speedo contest?" She rolled her eyes.

Michael kissed her forehead. He took a step back. "I have that stupid photo thing with my family, so i can't hang long. And then Dean and i are celebrating with some friends later. Though Dean seems to have a different definition of 'celebrating' than me. My parents, too. We'll probably end up making goal lists and future-income graphs or something."

Cheyenne laughed. "There's nothing wrong with goals, you know."

"I know. I have goals. I just don't want to put them in a spreadsheet."

Cocking an eyebrow, Cheyenne said, "What kind of goals, exactly?"

"Well,"-he puffed out his chest and set his hands on his hips-"there's this girl who i love more than sunlight and someday i'll marry her and then we'll have three and a half kids and a goat and a picket fence. How are those for goals?"

"A goat?"

He came a little closer. Close enough that Cheyenne could take in his familiar smell. He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. "I have to go before Dean leaves without me. I'll call you later."

He waved goodbye as he rounded the corner of the school for the back parking lot. Cheyenne sat on the cool grass beneath the sycamore tree, leaning her head against the bark.