With a wave of unease, I realize I hadn’t found Nico after the ceremony, and I look up and start scanning the field. It’s crowded, though. Parents and family and students are all milling about everywhere, talking and congratulating and hugging. And it’s maybe a bit loud and chaotic, despite the feelings of excitement and hope everyone seems to have.
I can’t see Nico or his mom anywhere, and actually, as I look again, searching the edges of the crowd for any sign of my best friend, I remember that he’d mentioned last week he wasn’t even sure his mom would be coming. Something about her having to work and not being able to get the afternoon off.
That immediately makes my stomach drop.
“So, we should get going, yeah?” My mom touches my arm to get my attention, almost as though she knows I’m elsewhere at the moment.
I shuffle my feet a bit as I turn back to her. “Um, yeah, just...” I shake my head and look back toward where the crowd is starting to migrate to the parking lot.
There are so many people.
He would have hated this. I find myself hoping he actuallyisalready gone, so he escaped before the crowd got bad.
But then what kind of friend does that make me?
I swallow hard and nod as I resist the urge to pull my phone out of my pocket. “Yeah, yeah, we can go.”
I’ll just have to check in with him later.
My mom and grandparents start off toward the parking lot, following the slow shuffle of the crowd, as the sun begins to drop lower in the sky to the west. I walk alongside my mom, and she’s rambling on and on about how wonderful the ceremony was or something.
“The speech by the blue-haired boy might have been the best part!” my grandpa pipes in jokingly, and that gets them all going again.
My mom, who’s been listening to me practice my speech for weeks now, starts pulling out random lines and reciting them, including the couple of dumb jokes I managed to slip in, and everyone’s happy and laughing as we make it to our cars. Except me.
My stupid hand is in my stupid pocket holding my stupid phone, and as soon as I’m in the truck with my seat belt on, I unlock my screen and open up my messenger app.
Nothing.
I frown, ignoring my mom as she climbs into the driver’s seat.
Alex (5:43 p.m.):hey
Nothing.
“Everything okay?” Mom asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, it’s fine, I just missed saying bye to Nico,” I explain. I’m still frowning, staring at my phone screen, waiting for him to text back.
“Oh.” My mom starts driving, navigating carefully through the busy parking lot. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutesuntil we’re on the main highway heading out of the small town of Redland, Nebraska, where I’ve lived my whole life. Omaha is north about thirty minutes or so. “He’s probably celebrating with his family tonight. Right?”
I close my eyes, and the knot in my stomach tightens. Her question is sort of a question and sort of not, like she already knows the truth but is hoping she’s wrong.
“Um, no. I think his mom’s working. His aunt was maybe going to be driving in, but he wasn’t sure.”
Mom doesn’t answer this time, and after another few minutes of staring at my phone, I can’t stand it anymore. I tap to bring up his number and then tap again to call. It rings five times before going to voicemail.
Holding back a curse, I close my eyes again and listen to his voice on the short recording.
“Hey, you’ve reached Nico. I’m not available right now, so leave me a message, and I’ll call you back!”
There’s a beep, and I hesitate, not sure what to say.
I’m sorry. Are you okay? Call me, please. I’m worried about you. I’m an ass.
All of that is true, and yet it’s not anywhere near telling him what I’m really feeling.
“Hey, uh, it’s me. Just checking in since I missed you after the ceremony. Call me?”
