A Different Blue(74)

to carry everywhere I went. I was almost four months along. Wasn't the morning sickness supposed

to ease up by now? I ate a cracker, gulped a little water from the faucet – trying not to

wonder how much chlorine it contained – and fixed my makeup where my eyeliner had smeared and

left black smudges under my eyes. Then I slicked on some lip gloss, re-attached my sneer, and

walked back to the cafeteria where all the graduates were gathered, only to find that they had

left to make their entrance without me. I sank down at a lunch table and began to ponder why my

life sucked so much. There was a lump in my throat that pounded with the ache in my heart. I

couldn't go out there now. I had missed it.

“Blue?”

I jumped, taken completely by surprise, and lifted my head from where I had cradled it in my

hands.

Mr. Wilson stood about ten feet away, his hand poised on the light switch by the door closest to

where I sat. He wore his customary pin-striped shirt and slacks but had left the tie at home.

Most of the teachers played a role at graduation, whether it was collecting caps and gowns,

mingling with parents and students, or checking for stragglers. It seemed Wilson was in charge

of the latter. I straightened and glared at him, upset that he had found me vulnerable once

again.

“Are you . . . all right? You missed the entrance. Everybody is on the field.”

“Yeah. I kinda got that.” The lump in my throat doubled in size, and I looked away from Wilson

dismissively. I stood and pulled off my cap and tossed it on the table. I started to yank my

robe off over my head, revealing the pink shorts and white t-shirt I wore underneath. We were

supposed to wear dresses beneath our robes, but who was going to see?

[page]“Wait!” Wilson called out, and he started moving toward me, his hand out-stretched. “It

isn't too late. You can still make it.”

I had stood up too quickly, and the room swam around me. Ohh, please, no! I bore down on the

nausea and willed it away, only to realize I wasn't going to make it to the bathroom this time.

Throwing my robe aside, I raced toward the door, flying past Wilson, barely making it to the

trash can before I threw up the crackers and water I'd just consumed. I felt hands in my hair,

pulling it back from my face and wanted to push Wilson away . . . oh, please, no . . . but I was

too busy shuddering and heaving to follow through. I eventually gained dominion over my stomach

and wished desperately for something to wipe my mouth on. Almost immediately, a neatly folded

square of cloth appeared in my line of sight. I took it from Wilson's hand gratefully. It was

the second time I'd used one of his handkerchiefs. I hadn't given the last one back. I had

washed it and pressed it, but I knew it smelled like cigarette smoke and I was too embarrassed

to return it. I straightened, and Wilson's hand released my hair as he stepped back from me.

He turned and left quickly, only to return less than a minute later with a little paper cup of

icy water. “Compliments of the teacher's lounge.”

I sipped the water, grateful – but again – refusing to acknowledge it.

“If you think you can, I think you should put on your cap and gown and head out to the field.

You haven't missed anything important.”

“Ha! I'm not walking out there by myself.”

“I'll walk with you. Easy peasy. Once you're seated, the embarrassment will be over, and in the