23.

The morning of graduation, the sky was a deep, sharp blue and the wind made the spouts of the Lincoln Center fountain bend in different directions like a frothy liquid compass. My purple polyester gown, striped with creases from the box, slithered against my now giant stomach. Vanessa took my hand and we skipped to the hall underneath the murals of dancers. I wished Will could have been there, but when I had asked Mom if I could invite him, she had given me a “Don’t-even-think-about-it” look.

“I have no interest in celebrating your achievements with someone who’s essentially destroyed your future,” she’d said, and I had taken that as my cue to drop the subject.

The ceremony took two and a half hours, enough time for four hundred kids to march across the stage and get their diplomas. Afterward, Stephen Bustello, a kid in my class everyone lusted after, stood on the granite ledge of the fountain and threw his cap in, and it floated on top of a spout before falling into the bubbles. The diamond stud in his ear caught the sun and reflected little dots of light onto someone’s shoulder. I’ll probably never see him again, I thought. I pictured him flying over the city like a superhero, laughing at all of us.

My parents and I went with Vanessa’s parents and her brother, Miles, to a dark Greek restaurant with a big stone fireplace that had no fire in it because it was almost summer.

“Why there, why not someplace more fun?” Mom had asked.

“We want to go somewhere close by,” I had said. It seemed important to have lunch near the actual event.

“Lincoln Center, yuck,” she’d responded.

When Vanessa and I had graduated from junior high together, we’d had lunch at Tavern on the Green. Now when we sat down at the Greek restaurant, Vanessa’s mother passed around pictures of twelve-year-old Vanessa and me sitting in tall brocade chairs, holding up glasses with ginger ale and cherries in them. We were the only ones at the table. My hair was too long and lemon yellow, and there was a blue ribbon hanging off the side of my head. I was grinning and looking sideways at Vanessa, and she was looking into the camera, her shoulders neat and narrow, her eyes smart with secrets.

“To the girls,” Dad said. He sat across the round white table, next to Mr. March.

“To the girls,” we all repeated.

“To the graduates,” said Vanessa’s dad. “The cream of the crop.”

“All the best to both of you,” Dad said. Mom fidgeted with her gold bangle bracelets and her vodka tonic and studied the people at other tables.

“To bravery,” Vanessa’s mom said. I knew she’d never wish my situation on Vanessa, but she winked at me.

“To stupidity, more like it,” Mom muttered. No one else heard her. I slathered triangles of pita bread with olive oil and taramosalata and crumbled feta cheese, starving. The waiter brought plates of calamari and stuffed olives. Mr. March talked to Dad about how much our high school had changed since his father had gone there, when it was boys only.

“Constant brawls,” Mr. March said. “He used to say it was like Rikers, I’m not kidding.” Mr. March was skinny with a small potbelly and wore the same glasses Diane Keaton wore in Annie Hall. Dad chuckled politely, his index finger stretching his brow toward the ceiling. Dad injected something celebratory into the dim room. But he hardly said a word.

“I just want to lie on Thea’s dock this summer,” Vanessa said, stroking my cheek. “Kay?”

“Don’t torture me, Vanessa, please,” said Mrs. March. “We begged and borrowed to get you that thing at Nickelodeon.”

“I knowww, but I just need a li’l breaky,” she moaned.

“Breaky, I’ll show ya breaky,” Mr. March interjected, making a fist with his pudgy hand.

“What am I going to do without my Nessy around to rattle my chain?” Mrs. March mused at the menu, shaking her head. “Who’s going to give me lousy pedicures?” She looked at my mother. “The first one to go, Fiona. My heart’s about to snap.”

Mom smiled empathically at Mrs. March and then her face faded behind a cloud. I realized she wanted me to go. I straightened my forks and had the weird sensation of being there in my body, sandwiched between Mom and Vanessa, but with the rest of me vaporizing out of the restaurant to a place where I existed completely alone with my thoughts and worried plans.