Anything but Ordinary(49)

“How are we going to do this in the summertime?” Carter asked as they sat on the walking bridge over Highway 12, swinging their legs. “Football doesn’t start till September.”

A truck carrying lumber zoomed underneath them. Bryce’s Popsicle dripped, hitting the pavement where the truck had just been. “Wait, what day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“The…”

“Twenty-second.”

She stuck the remains of the popsicle in her teeth and stood up on the bridge. “Let’s go!”

Bryce and Carter sat in the empty bleachers of the third practice of the Hilwood Raiders’ season, wearing T-shirts with scowling cartoon pirates on them, sweating in the August heat. They cheered loudly whenever the team executed a drill correctly. They stood up whenever anyone got close to the end zone, including Coach Farmer, Bryce’s old geography teacher.

When they decided it was “halftime,” they drank cold Cokes, and Carter brought out his iPod speakers to play all the songs on ESPN Jock Jams. When “Hey!” came on—the song where everyone was supposed to shout “Hey!” every three notes—the assistant coach had to ask Bryce and Carter to leave, as they were a distraction to the team.

“Bye, Coach Farmer!” Bryce called as they left the stadium. “Have a good practice, guys!”

The third item on the list was laundry, but it was a late addition. Bryce’s mother had caught them on their way out one day, with Bryce’s hamper in her hand.

“You seem to have missed learning how to do this, too,” her mother had said.

The fourth item was graduation.

The morning she was going to pretend to graduate, Bryce felt oddly formal. She had to pull some strings at Hilwood by e-mailing Mr. Schefly, but they were able to get into the auditorium on Thursday morning. They swung by Gabby’s house on the way, to borrow her cap and gown, and Carter had replicated Hilwood’s diploma and printed it with Bryce’s name in curly script.

He sat in the audience while Mr. Schefly stood at the podium in his usual sweater-vest and combover. Bryce stood backstage in a short sundress under the gown, and her Converse. “Pomp and Circumstance” played from the tiny speakers Carter had hooked up to his iPod.

“Bryce Cornelia Graham,” echoed through the auditorium. Bryce strode across the stage, gave Mr. Schefly a firm handshake, and waved at an imaginary crowd of classmates and family. She’d suggested to Carter that they get cardboard cutouts of everyone in the yearbook and put them in the seats, but Carter thought that would be overdoing it.

“Cornelia, huh?” Carter said after Mr. Schefly left.

“It’s my mom’s middle name, too,” Bryce said, flopping on the seat next to him.

“Elizabeth Cornelia,” Carter said thoughtfully, flipping open the diploma he’d made. Then he snapped it shut. “My mom’s was…Carrie Ann, I believe.”

Bryce felt her forehead tense. “Was?”

“Was.” Carter said firmly. “She was in the car with my brother.”

Bryce couldn’t believe she’d never asked about it before.

“Wish she were still here,” he said, gazing at the floor. “It’d be nice to have someone else to visit Sam besides me. Share the load.” He looked up and smiled sadly at Bryce. “And she would have liked you.”

“What about your dad?” Bryce asked.

“He thinks paying the bill is enough,” Carter said, shaking his head.

Bryce had thought she knew loss. She had felt like her family had drifted. Like they had become strangers, irrevocably changed. But…Carter knew what it felt like to really lose his family. “Have you asked him to visit?” she asked tentatively.

Carter let out a bitter laugh, putting a leg up on the chair in front of him. “Come on. I shouldn’t have to ask my own dad to visit his son.”

“Everyone needs a wake-up call sometimes.”

Carter looked up and gave her a winning smile. He put his hands around his mouth and gave a fake shout. “Ladies and gentlemen, your graduating class!”

On cue, Bryce threw up her cap. It landed a few rows away. Then she stood up abruptly, making her hinged seat bounce. “I want to do it for real.”

“What, graduate?”

“Yeah,” Bryce said, moving through the rows to retrieve Gabby’s cap.

“You could probably do your senior year again, no problem,” Carter said, following her.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go back.” Bryce had had enough of the past. She wanted to move forward. “I want to graduate so I can go to college,” she clarified. It was strange to say it aloud.

“I like that plan,” Carter said. His tone became playful. “You have a bright future ahead of you, Bryce Cornelia Graham, Hilwood High graduate.”

She threw off her gown and pushed open the doors to the Hilwood courtyard, feeling his eyes on her legs under her short dress.

When they got inside the Honda, Carter paused, looking at her. He reached over his seat to put a hand through her hair, and leaned his face into her lips.

“No distractions from the future!” she cried. He groaned, leaning back into the driver’s seat. “To the bookstore for a GED prep book!”

Carter started the engine. Bryce scooted near him to tease him a little more, whispering throatily in his ear. “And then to the library to study it…”