Chapter 21: Moving On
My poverty and not my will consents. –Romeo and Juliet
I have been accustomed to study men’s countenances, and I can read in thine honesty and resolution. –Ivanhoe
The last day of school came. My teachers had practically given up on any lessons for the week, since none of us were paying any attention anyway. We spent the day signing yearbooks and glancing at the clock.
Of course, I couldn’t afford a yearbook. I always wanted one but the timing was always off. Last year, when I had been in A Cappella choir and done the spring play, there were several pictures of me. This year, too, there were several photos of me juggling, being in concerts, and being in the fall play. They were pretty good photos, too. Usually my skin tone was too pink and people thought I was sunburned, but in the yearbook the camera’s strong flash had drained me of that pink tone, so I looked as white as other people. I really, really wanted a yearbook.
Instead, I stapled together several pieces of blank paper, entitled it “Beverly’s Yearbook,” and held it out to be signed. To my surprise, many people did. I got ribbed for being so cheap, but they wrote nice things. Most of them made mention of my juggling abilities, as in, “Thanks for helping me pass juggling class,” or “To the best juggler in the whole town,” or “Queen of the Jugglers…” You know. Cheesy stuff that I’ll probably throw away in ten years or so.
As glad as I was to be done with school for the year, I couldn’t help but be depressed. Luke noticed during choir class. “Hey, Beverly. You don’t look happy. It’s the last day of school! What’s wrong with you?”
“Hey, Luke. Will you sign my yearbook?” I held out my floppy papers to him.
He laughed. “This is really… um… creative…”
“Yeah, well. Where’s yours?”
I signed his; he signed mine. When he was done, he returned to his original question.
I pressed my lips together. “We’re moving. Tomorrow. Tonight’s my last night with my horse. I’m gonna miss her. I worked really hard to get to the State Fair, and now some other girl is going to take my credit.”
“Ah. That’s rough. I’m sorry.” He reached for my hand.
I pulled it away. “Nice try.”
“No? Still?”
“Luke, you know I’m not ready for anything more than a friendship. What’s the rush?”
“It’s not like I’m asking you for a kiss or anything.”
“Nah, just my heart.”
He sighed. “Fine. I can wait. What about next year?”
“Sure, maybe that can be my junior year project.”
“So now love is a project.”
We grimaced at each other, then burst into laughter. “I’m gonna miss you this summer, you know. I can’t believe you’re going to Paraguay.”
He nodded. “I know. My grandparents live there. They’re always nagging my folks to make me learn Spanish. Personally, I think Chinese is more usable in the workforce, but how do you argue with a grandmother?"
"You can't," I agreed.
"What are your plans?”
I sighed. “Without my horse, I feel kind of lost. We’ll be moving back into town. I’ll probably pick up a job over the summer. I’d like to get a car.”
“Well, good luck to you.”
“You too.”
“Luke, will you sign my yearbook?” asked one of his friends.
Luke grinned at me. “See you next year.”
“Adios,” I replied in a bad Spanish accent.
Before the bell rang for the last time that year, Naomi managed to sign my paper yearbook. I don’t know how she managed it without me seeing her, but she wrote her name and the message, “To Beverly, who is Most Likely to Succeed in my book. Keep making good choices. Thanks for sharing.”
I read it right before we were dismissed. I was stunned. I looked around for her, trying to catch her attention, but she was too embarrassed to speak to me. Our eyes met, briefly, out in the hallway. Instead of sneering at me or looking away, she gave me a quick smile. I smiled back.