You and Me (Plus Everyone In Between Us)

Under No Circumstance Would I Want To Be Pomp

This was it. The moment I'd been waiting for, or rather, the moment I'd been dreading. Depends on how I felt that day. Graduation was filled with all the pomp and circumstance I could ever imagine. There was an eclectic mix of proud parents, sleepy grandparents, and restless babies.

Emmett walked in front of me with his fancy Valedictorian's sash. Meanwhile, I searched for my parents in the crowd, desperately hoping they hadn't forgotten I was graduating too. But how could they forget? Emmett was going to be here.

Finally, amid the sea of people, I spotted Maria, flailing her hand like she was trying to swat a fly, and screaming Emmett and I's name like she had just learned how to talk, and discovered screaming. My parents clicked away at their cameras capturing every single moment. I wonder how many pictures Emmett was the focus of. I tapped Emmett on the shoulder, and we both plastered fake smiles on our faces.

Mom had convinced us that I would be cute to match for our graduation as if we were still little kids who needed to remind the world we came out of the same womb at the same time. Underneath the red graduation gowns, Emmett wore a black tuxedo with a pink corsage and bow tie. Me? I was sentenced to five hours of an itchy, sequined strapless pink dress that made me look like Barbie's disco ball. As soon as the lady at the rental area showed it to me, I regretted not bringing a pair of sunglasses too. I did have to admit fit me well and outlined my awkward-looking curves. But the itch? No. Just No. At least I could return it.

As I wobbled my way toward the stage, precariously balancing on Mom's old glittery pink stilts, I couldn't help but question her sanity. She let (made) me borrow them as she wore them at her graduation back in 2000. How did she manage to adorn these deathtraps on her feet? One wrong move and I'd be on the floor writhing in pain. I didn't even need the heels! I was already towering at a lofty five foot ten. But no, according to Mom, the heels would make me look more "ladylike." Whatever that meant.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, or maybe it was just the collective relief of finally leaving this place behind. I wouldn't have to cry over a test for a while unless I somehow found a calling my parents liked and came to university like Emmett. I tried to soak in the moment, to feel the significance of the occasion, but all I felt was an overwhelming desire to flee.

I brushed off my growing unease and did what I always did with my feelings—ignored them. The ceremony began shortly, and we sat in front of this stage while Principal Watson? Walter? I couldn't remember. I know. I know. The bare minimum was to know his name. I never needed it. He looked down on us with enthusiasm. Honestly, I couldn't care less about the guy. He didn't make my life harder or easier, just average, like a sad bowl of oatmeal.

Then came the moment we had all been waiting for. Emmett, the academic weapon, and his longtime arch-nemesis Navjeet Singh, the eternal second place, salutatorian sat side by side on the stage. Navjeet had been trailing Emmett in science fairs, robotics tournaments, and basketball for a little over six years. No one was a bigger thorn in his side than Navjeet. Emmett had finally come out of their long battle, unless Navejeet found him at Harvard.

After what felt like an eternity of boring speeches, it was finally time for Emmett to shine. Before Principal Watson-not-Walter (just found out) even could get the second syllable of "Thompson" the crowd broke into the most thunderous applause I've ever heard in real time. I joined in not excited. I've taken the brunt of hearing Emmett practice his speech over and over.

"Hello, Class of 2024!" he began.

"To friends, family, and faculty!" Emmett boomed with confidence, projecting his voice. Meanwhile, I slouched in my seat, already anticipating the sweet release of this ceremony's end.

Emmett went on and on about looking at our families, appreciating our teachers, and even contemplating the Earth's role in our lives. It was like a crash course in sentimental philosophy, filled with all the cliches one could jam into a speech. And then, of course, the most original piece of advice ever. "Be yourself."