The Graduation by Christopher Pike Page A

herself jogging toward him before she knew what she was doing.
    He did not see her coming. She trembled inside as she came to a halt a few feet from him and spoke his name. “Michael?”
    He glanced up with a start. Then he smiled. “Jessie. I love your glasses.”
    She laughed. She could have cried. She spread her arms wide and gave him a big hug. It might have been the best moment of her life when he hugged her back. Except he had to let her go. What a mush she had become.
    “It’s good to see you again,” he said casually.
    “It’s good to see you. Oh, God, these glasses. I hate them.”
    “Why? You look like a scholar in them.”
    “I do?” He was being serious. She should have worn them all along. She giggled, shaking on the outside as well as the inside. No one in the world made her feel this way. She hated it, but only because she knew, like his hug, that it would not last. He would go away again. He always did. “So, how have you been? You look great. I hear you’re building a spaceship at JPL?”
    “Not exactly. I’m doing janitorial work.”
    “Really? No! You’re kidding. I know you. Our chemistry teacher told us one day he’d never had a student like you. He said you invented the carbon bond!”
    He chuckled. “Now I’m responsible for all the life on this planet. What a reputation. What have you been up to?”
    She shrugged. “Oh, the usual. I sleep all day in a velvet-lined coffin and then prowl the streets at night. Hey, Sara told me you’re valedictorian. Congratulations! Your mom must be real proud.”
    Michael nodded past her shoulder. “Here she comes. You’ve never met her, have you?”
    Oh, no, she’s going to hate me. Mothers always hate me.
    His mom was massively pregnant; she waddled as she walked. Jessica hadn’t even known she was married. Michael indicated that they should meet her halfway. Jessica could not believe how nervous she was. One would think she was Michael’s fiance.
    “She’s due in a couple of weeks,” Michael re-marked as they walked toward her. “Did you know I have a stepfather now?”
    “That’s neat.”
    “I never see him. They spend most of their time at his place by the beach. I’m still at the old house.”
    That was not news to Jessica. She had driven by his place a couple of times and parked down the street to wait for him to come home. But each time he had appeared, her nerve had failed and she’d driven away.
    His mother had his black hair and dark eyes, but little or none of his seriousness. Jessica spotted that the moment she spoke; her voice was light, gay. Jessica could tell at a glance she was looking forward to the baby.
    “Mom, this is Jessie. You remember her, don’t you?”
    “Sure, I do.” She offered her hand. “I spoke to you on the phone once. Nice meeting you, Jessie.”
    “Thank you. Nice meeting you.”
    The lady turned to her son, handing him a letter. “This came from the observatory this morning. Is it what I think it is?”
    “Probably,” Michael said, slipping the envelope into his gown pocket.
    “Aren’t you going to open it?” his mother asked, slightly exasperated.
    “Later. We know what it says.”
    “What is it?” Jessica asked, curious.
    “Nothing,” Michael said quickly, catching his mom’s eye.
    “All right,” the lady said. “Be that way. Be rude.” She nodded to Jessica and laughed at Michael. “She’s pretty.”
    “I know,” he said quietly.
    Jessica quickly pulled off her glasses, embarrassed. “I have to wear these stupid things all the time.”
    “You look wonderful with them on,” his mother said.
    “Like a philosopher,” Michael said.
    “A professional woman,” the mother said, reaching out and fixing Jessica’s cap.
    “I don’t even have a gold tassel,” Jessica muttered, trembling worse. The lady brushed a hair from her cheek, then took the glasses from her hands and checked the lenses for dust.
    “These are strong,” she remarked. “You do have to wear