The Memory Book(42)

“You’re so right!” I said, and let out a ha sound, because a knot had come undone inside me. It was a knot that held a lot together, so it was necessary for a time, but she was right. High school was no longer a big deal.

“But you know what I will still be sorry about?” I said, gulping.

“What?” Maddie said, making a little frown, poking fun.

“I am sorry we weren’t better friends earlier.”

“Well!” she said, tossing her cap and catching it. “We’ve got plenty of time now!”

“Maddie!” Stacia called Maddie’s name from over by her parents. Pat was with them, too. I didn’t know if Maddie and Stacia were back together, but like everything else, it didn’t seem to matter. Maddie seemed happy.

“Gotta go,” she said.

I caught her sleeve. “I’ll see you at Ross Nervig’s tonight?”

As she walked backward in Stacia’s direction, Maddie’s mouth fell open, then closed. “Sammie McCoy wants to party.” She pretended to zip it shut. “Not going to ruin this. Not going to say a word. But yes. I’ll see you tonight.”

When the crowd had thinned somewhat, Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa found me, followed by Harrison and Bette and Davy, all tucked in and brushed and buckled into their church clothes.

“We’re so proud of you,” Mom said as she hugged me, one of her clutching hugs that verges on the brink of too tight but never quite gets there.

“So proud,” Dad repeated, and joined in.

Bette and Davy took my waist from either side with their skinny arms, smelling like the popcorn they were giving out in the lobby, while Harrison touched Bette’s head and said, “This is me hugging you,” which was good enough.

Grandma and Grandpa took their turn, their white heads the same exact height. Grandma handed me a thick envelope tucked in a copy of Caddie Woodlawn, my favorite book, which I would ask her to read to me as a little girl, which set me off crying again.

Above all their heads, I saw Stuart standing several feet away, looking like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ (in my opinion), my favorite white button-down glowing under a thin black tie.

We made eye contact and smiled so huge and excited, I swear the way my heart jumped it was like the first time I had seen him all over again, except this time I was the opposite of paralyzed, I was resisting the urge to run and jump into his arms. He looked away for a moment, and I tried to wipe the trail of mascara that was probably running down my cheeks on the back of my hand.

When I looked back up, he was making a “one minute” motion—it appeared Dale and his parents wanted to speak to him on the other side of the gym. I gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to my family with the sweetest smile I could muster.

“Hey, Mom and Dad, can I go to a party tonight?”

“Nice one, Sammie, get us when we’re in a good mood,” Dad said, putting Harrison in a playful headlock.

“But seriously! Please?”

“Mmm,” Mom said. “You can have friends over to our place, if you’d like!”

“But…”

“I don’t think so, honey,” Dad said.

“Oh, Mark, let her go,” Grandma said, putting her hand on my back and giving me a small smile. “She deserves to celebrate.”

“Ha!” Dad said. “Like you would have let me go to a graduation party.”

“No, but your dad did,” Grandma said, tossing a look at her husband.

“It’s true, I did,” Grandpa said, and winked at me.

Mom sighed. “You’re going to make my hair turn gray,” she said, looking at me. Then to Grandpa, “No offense.”

“Is your friend with the Mohawk going?” Dad asked. “The one who can do CPR?”

“Maddie? Yeah!” That was almost a yes. I had to resist clapping my hands with excitement. Maddie was still across the gym. “Maddie!” I shouted.

“What?” she shouted back.

“We’re hanging out tonight, right?” I gave her a pointed look.

“Yep!” she shouted. “Definitely!”

I told them that I would meet Stuart or Maddie in the parking lot, that we would go together. After tons of photos and kisses good-bye, and one last “be smart” from Mom and Dad, everyone left.

So now I’m sitting here in the parking lot, in the car, which Mom and Dad are letting me take as long as I get home by midnight.

What happened at Nationals was just a mistake. Bad timing. And even if it happens again while I’m at NYU, I can explain my condition. It only happens rarely, I can tell them. I will never be as bad as the worst-case scenario.

I’m writing to you right now, even when I could be celebrating, because I have realized the common factor every time I’ve succeeded—writing to you, Future Sam. It must be working. Something, at least, is working. To make up for all the nights spent at home, in the library, bossing people around, all the nights spent memorizing—I want to celebrate tonight, and I want tonight to last for a long time.

The only problem: Stuart already left to let me be with my family, and is now twenty minutes away. Maddie left, too. I told Stuart no big deal, go with Dale, and that he could meet me there. SO. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if I went by myself. Coop texted me the address. It’s just one drive, after all, and my mind is stronger than ever.