Chapter 138: Last Day at Memorial

Wednesday, May 23, 1984

It was perhaps fitting that my last day of high school was so very anticlimactic. It was very fitting that I ended with the class that had, beyond any question, meant more to me in either life than any other high school class.

Debate had defined so much of me in my first life. It might have been the single biggest ingredient in making me not Iceberg Steve (though simply signing up for it proved that I hadn’t been). I’d made friends then who had shaped this life. If not for Gene, Sue, Amit, and a few others, perhaps I’d have decided on a different path for my second life, and so very much would be different.

I couldn’t help but think that many people, presented with the same second chance that Angie and I had received, would look at high school as something to be endured. Grind out the same stupid classes again, put up with the same juvenile silliness, endure the tests they’d passed long ago and the teachers who knew less than they did, get through it, get out, and finally get to be an adult again. Perhaps they’d make as much money as they could, or deftly position themselves for later glory.

For Angie and me, it’d been, unquestionably, an opportunity, and it’d been that from the first day. Neither of us had ever thought of it as something to be endured. It was a golden opportunity — the first in our new lives. Perhaps the most important, too, since it would set the stage for the future.

And had it! The one friend I’d kept after Memorial in my first life didn’t even exist in this life. The one person Angie had kept had ultimately been the architect of her downfall (if one was to blame anyone other than Angie herself).

This time, we had a wonderfully rich group of lovers, friends so close they were nearly family, friends one step removed but still very close, and all manner of acquaintances.

Night and day. We were ready to move on, but we hadn’t wasted any of these years. If youth was sometimes wasted on the young, it wasn’t wasted on us.

It wasn’t wasted on our close friends, either. I was sure of that.

Unlike Drama, we had no final party in Debate, so this was it.

We watched ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’. Again. We quoted whole chunks of dialog from it and other Python skits. We joked and talked and planned future get-togethers and all of that. Those of us who were going to Nationals made plans to meet a day early in San Antonio and have dinner at the Tower of the Americas (including Meg and Steffie, of course).

I was in charge of making reservations for that, naturally.

And, of course, as time ticked inevitably away, we let Meg have the last word.

She got us all sitting quietly (no small feat!), and then said, “Everyone, this is it. For my seniors, it has been a distinct honor having you in my class and in my life. Whether you’ve been here for two, three, or all four years, each of you is part of my best graduating class thus far. That follows last year, my formerly best graduating class in history — and still great! You’ve changed my life, and I like to think that I’ve changed yours.”

We all cheered at that, loud enough that some other teachers were going to be upset.

Sorry.

Meg shushed us, then continued, “For some of you seniors, plus Jaya, we’re still not done, and I’ll see you in San Antonio. But ... I also hope that none of us are done! Write, call, whatever. Stay in touch! I’d love to do a regular set of Debate reunions. Maybe every five years or so — we’ll see.”

We cheered again.

“All of you who aren’t seniors — knock your summer programs out of the park, if you’re going to one, and then come back to me refreshed and ready to outwork and outhustle everyone else in the state. You all know we can do it, now. You’ve got the examples. It takes a lot of hard work and determination, but you know that we have a lot of fun along the way! Tell your friends who can work hard and play hard that we’ve got a place for them, a place where they can do great things and spend a lot of time with great people.”

A lot of the younger kids looked enthusiastic at that. Meg had a terrific set of building blocks, unquestionably, and I expected that Memorial would go right on winning.

“Going back to my seniors, I’m going to do this in the order that I met you. That puts Cammie first. Cammie: you’ve been a joy every day for the past four years. Eager to contribute, eager to help, eager to go the extra mile.”

Cammie rose and curtseyed, getting a bit of laughter.

“Janice, you started the day Cammie did, and you’ve been amazing, consistently trying things and mentoring the others. Jaya made sure to make me say that you were a major influence on her and that she wouldn’t be who she is without you.”

Janice sniffled at that. I hadn’t heard that about Jaya, but I could believe it.

“Next, my one and only midyear addition, Steve. It’s impossible to overstate the influence you’ve had, my dear Sir.”

I blushed at that, I was sure.

“You’ve mentored at least a dozen kids in here, and I’m tempted to say almost twice that. You were key to getting our sponsorship program going, you’ve been a leader on every road trip, and you’ve put in every bit as much work as I’ve ever seen anyone put in.”

I stood, bowed, then sat down.

Meg grinned, then said, “Next, my three-year kids. Sue, I first met you at State when you were representing another school. I can’t believe my good luck that you moved here!”

“Me, neither!” Sue said. “Best move ever!”

“You’ve had a terrific attitude and worked so hard. As has Gene, who I know is even happier than I am that you moved here.”

Gene grinned. “Overjoyed!”

“Never partners in Debate, but partners. Something that makes me very happy indeed!”

She paused a second, took a drink of water, and then said, “Then there’s Amit. Our first two-time Tournament of Champions winner, a national runner-up, and so much more — but, more than that, a great person who can also out-eat anyone else in this room. Somehow!”

Amit blushed and grinned. He was still small, short, and often ravenous.

“Finally, Angie. If Steve kicked some things into gear, you kicked them into overdrive.”

Angie blushed.

“I lay so much of our synergy with Steffie — something both of us always wanted — at your feet. You took the step that resulted in Steve jumping into the musical, then jumped in yourself, and ... look at all of the changes! We are never going back to the way things worked before. You yourself straddled both worlds adeptly.”

Angie stood, curtseyed, then sat.

“And, finally, my two-year veterans. Linda, you came in with a terrific attitude and somehow improved on it. I had to battle cheerleading for your time and talents, but you’ve never given half measures to anything, ever.”

Linda rose, did a little jump, then sat.

“Darla, you’ve been one of my hardest workers, as nearly everyone tells me. You put in countless hours in the library, organizing files, and all of those things. You also won plenty of rounds!”

Darla rose and bowed, waving.

“Finally, Eric, you’ve been a stalwart in LD, both as a winner yourself and as a mentor to countless others. I know several of the others couldn’t have done what they did without you doing what you did.”

Eric grinned, bowing.

“Then my Drama cross-overs the other way. First, Jasmine, who I blame for stealing away half of Steve’s time — and more than half of his heart.”

Jas blushed and giggled.

“That could have been a tough thing, but it’s been a joy, and you’re a lot of why it’s been a joy.”

Jas grinned and took a bow.

“Lexi, you’ve been incredibly positive, and have been terrific at tournaments and in the classroom.”

Lexi took a bow, too.

“And, finally, Sheila. Not only did you steal Amit’s heart, but you’ve also been part of the fabric of both this team and the Drama team. Perhaps a key part of what makes us one team. Never saying no, always committed, and always positive.”

Sheila rose and curtseyed. Instead of sitting where she was, though, she sat in Amit’s lap, getting some cheers.

I caught a few people’s eyes, and that got enough people moving so that the others joined in. We seniors all linked arms, took a bow facing Meg, then dropped arms, turned around, linked arms again, and took a bow facing the rest of the students.

The cheer from that was definitely going to upset a few teachers. It got everyone laughing and applauding, though, and that was our goal.

Meg chuckled. “Now, any of you who aren’t seniors — see what you have to look forward to?”

Jaya led them in saying, nearly together, “Yes, Meg!”

That got a bunch more laughter and applause.

From there it was downhill to the end. All good things must come to an end. Even if this wasn’t perhaps the end, it was an ending, and I suspected it was really the most important end.

Whatever we did at Nationals was still as part of the team, but it was a different, smaller team, and different circumstances.

We’d made everything better for the time we’d been a part of the team, and that’s all you can really ask for.

The end of Debate was the end of high school. Watching people as they came out was interesting.

There were several very distinct groups. Those who rode the bus, or who were picked up, headed to those places. They had to; there was no choice. It was like any other day, only earlier.

Of those who walked, biked, or drove, though, there were distinct groups. Some left as fast as they possibly could, almost as if Principal Riggs would be out sending everyone he could find back to class. Some left at a more measured pace, but they were clearly leaving.

Then there were large groups, particularly amongst the seniors, who weren’t going anywhere just yet. Many people found a bench or some other convenient place to rest, hung out, and swapped stories, signed yearbooks, or made summer plans.

Jas and I did the same, with Angie and Paige settling next to us. Many of our friends camped out nearby. We’d gotten a bunch of signatures, but there’s always room for more, and we picked up a few more.

It was nice to just quietly wind down our last day. Over the hour, friends came and went. Jess had hugs and kisses for us all (the one I got was another rumor-starter, though the grapevine was not what it had been). She couldn’t stay, though — she’d promised her mom that she would head home so they could have lunch together. We would see each other at the cast party tomorrow, anyway.

Cammie, Cal, Mel, and Andy came by. They were heading out to lunch together. It would be one of their last as couples; after their ‘breakup,’ Cammie and Mel would keep their distance for a while. Eventually, friendships would be ‘rekindled,’ of course, without the romance.

For the Study Group people, of course, this wasn’t the end. We’d all see each other at graduation. We had a complicated plan: most of us (Cammie, obviously, excepted) would have lunch with our parents before graduation. For Cammie, it would be Penelope and David. While there might be exceptions (I thought Jimmy and Connie were one), mostly it would be just us with our parents, not as couples. This was one of those serious milestones — one that parents had been looking forward to for many years — and respecting that was a good thing.

After the lunches, we would go home so that we could reshuffle cars, heading to graduation in various groups separately from our parents. We would see them after the ceremony, of course, but we would all go out to dinner together. Study Group had been all about taking us through high school to graduation, and we would have accomplished that. Our Memorial Day party was a ‘last hurrah,’ but the dinner was our celebration of the success of that mission.

With all of that, it wasn’t important to say goodbye to any of our closest friends. We would see them again, very soon. It was the others who mattered here. Anne and Megan, for instance. I felt certain that I would see them again — but would I? When? Megan might perhaps be hanging out with Calvin, and I’d see Calvin sometimes, but she probably wouldn’t travel to all of the away games or anything. Anne? Who knew? I’d known her — had seen her day in and day out — for three years. Might this be the last time I’d see her?

For those I was further removed from, the odds were higher. When would I see Bree again? ‘Never’ was a reasonably likely answer. Oh, Meg wanted to do reunions, and I thought that would happen, but people miss reunions.

The more distant the relationship — especially with people who weren’t seniors — the odds went up that today was the end. The trick was to make it meaningful, not maudlin.