The Graduation by Christopher Pike

took off her cap and glasses and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her tassel was blue. Sara had a gold one. Both their parents were in the stands. The six of them were supposed to go for an early dinner to an expensive restaurant afterward. Big thrill.
    “What if I bring up the space program?” Sara asked. “Everyone likes astronauts.”
    “What if I sang Bowie’s ‘Starman’? I know the chords.”
    “That’s ridiculous. You can’t sing about spacemen at my graduation.”
    “Then you can’t talk about astronauts at mine.” Jessica replaced her glasses and scanned the crowd for Michael. “When is he going to speak?”
    “After Mr. Bark.”
    “I forget, when do I sing?”
    “After Mike speaks,” Sara said. “It’s all there in your program.”
    “Michael’s not even listed in the program.”
    “Dale Jensen is. You know he’s taking his place.”
    “Yeah, you told me—as of this morning.”
    “What are you complaining about? I can’t even have notes with me when I go up there.”
    “Why not?”
    “I have no place to put them.”
    “What’s wrong with the podium?” Jessica asked, pointing to the stage in front of the folding chairs.
    “It’s been fixed.” Sara smiled suddenly. “You’ll see. Mr. Bark wants to talk before me. He thinks he does. What grade did he give you?”
    “A B-minus,” Jessica said angrily.
    “He gave me an A-minus.”
    “That’s so unfair. You fell asleep the first day I was back.”
    “Well, then, I was obviously most improved.”
    “You are beginning to bore me. I think I’ll leave.”
    Jessica had another reason for splitting. She wanted to check out the piano—how it had been miked. She was a fair pianist; she’d had lessons since she was six years old and could play most popular songs if she had the music in front of her. She knew dozens of Beatles tunes by heart. Although many people complimented her on her voice, she didn’t think of herself as a vocalist. Her singing voice was too similar to her speaking voice, which had always bothered her for some strange reason.
    The school piano had a single microphone rigged above it—that was all. Yet the sound appeared to carry fine when she tapped out a few chords. She wondered if it would offend the older members of the audience if she played Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out for Summer.” It annoyed her, being censored by Mr. Bark, especially when he considered himself so liberal.
    “Don’t worry,” The Rock said, coming up at her side, a green plastic trash bag in his hand. “The chance of there being a record producer in the audience is five hundred to one.”
    She smiled. “I’m not here to get signed. I just want my diploma. What’s with the bag?”
    She knew without asking. Being a Big Brother wasn’t enough for The Rock. A couple of weeks ago he had joined the Keep America Clean Society. He took his membership seriously. Tabb High was now the cleanest school in Orange County, or it should have been. Bubba had organized a counter organization: It’s Biodegradable. Bubba had a lot of friends. The Rock could regularly be seen at break and lunch picking up half-eaten apples and banana peels. Nothing irritated Bubba like a social conscience.
    “The gang’s getting started early,” The Rock said. “I’ve already collected a hundred beer cans at school today.” He sighed and shook his head. “I hope no one falls overboard tonight.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Stay sober.”
    “I’ll try.” Either that or she was going to get stinking drunk.
    She was heading toward the stands to ask her mother for a throat lozenge—she wanted to keep her vocal chords well lubricated—when she caught sight of Michael standing alone by the equipment shed on the far end of the stadium. He had his head down and appeared deep in thought. She hesitated to disturb him. As Sara had mentioned earlier, his hair was a lot longer, and he looked so damn good to her that she felt her eyes water. She found