Mr. Barkers no longer lived in a kick-ass house. He was renting a twin unit in the western suburbs, complete with a double-wide pool out back. His front porch was covered in fake vine leaves, a 'dogs may bite, but cats have claws' welcome mat rested outside his door. It took a frantic search through the online yellow book and a call to the school filled with mild identity fraud on my end to find his place. But by the time my feet came to a stop, dress shoes scuffed and coated in dust, it was on that damn mat with my fist outstretched.

But to do what?

To knock. To leave the note I'd scribbled on a napkin from the diner whose payphone I used, having forgotten my phone at home in my haste to get out. I didn't know. Nothing in my mind was making sense other than I had to be here, had to be anywhere but there. Standing on his front porch, my heart erratic and pacing down the moments until it could all but quit on me, not a single coherent thought raced through me. All I knew was his car wasn't in the drive and his cat was asleep on the bottom step, the stout cat door flickering lightly in the wind at the bottom of his front door. Taunting me with an invitation to my past mistakes.

"Shit."

I dropped my hand to my side, then dragged it through my hair, all but tearing it out at the roots. Sweat slicked my palms as I ran over how stupid everything I'd just done was. Of course Barkers had left. He had probably driven to school hours ago. I shook my head, ignoring the few pieces of hair that floated limply onto the porch and jogged back down the steps. The fabric under my armpits pinched, bunching together in tight folds against the on growing sweat patches I was producing. I tugged at my collar, rolling my shoulders as I strode to Barkers' mailbox.

In the short time since he'd started renting the space, his mailbox had begun to fill with supermarket coupon packages and mail from previous tenants. I shuffled my gaze past a community speed-dating pamphlet draped over the slotted opening, searching my pocket. The napkin had rumpled on the way over, letters smudged from my greasy palms after an attempt to smooth the more salvageable ends. I placed it between a lost dog poster and a neighbourhood watch flyer, dragging my eyes over the final two words one last time before snapping the box shut again. The weight on my shoulders came back for a moment as I stepped back then it was gone and I was roaming the street again.

The third doorbell I rang managed to get me an answer. A low humming, elevator music-esque rendition of Staying Alive played from a tinny speaker above the door, barely more than three bars and I chuckled, moving to press the button again before I could stop myself. I doubt even a second passed before the door swung open, letting out the smell of burnt pasta and rosemary. Dressed head to toe in floral, an old woman with black hair stepped forward and all but slapped my hand off her buzzer.

"Stop that," she sniped. I jolted back, startled by the middle violence from someone living in the suburbs, though her angered gaze was more fixated on the actual bell than my appearance. "Never cared for the Bee Gees."

"Bit of a bad choice in ringtone then," I said, my back stiffening straight when her eyes finally did land on me. Something about my appearance made her soften, however, as she did little more than roll her eyes at my comment.

"My grandson thinks it's funny to taunt the elderly," she said, going as far as to shake her head at the sky fondly. "Is there a reason you're going around ringing doorbells? I highly doubt a boy like you enjoys spending his time ding-dong-ditching."

I curled my bottom lip under my teeth to avoid snorting, thumbing the back of my head in a display of bashfulness. "Just hoping to use your phone. I've misplaced mine."

"I somehow find that hard to believe."

I frowned, brow arched as the woman made to step back inside. "It's not a prank, I swear. I'm late for my graduation and I just need to call a friend to come pick me up."

"And when this friend comes, you're not going to attempt to overpower and rob me, are you?" she asked, going as far as to squint over my form. I shrunk a little bit under the weight of her brown eyes, far too alert for someone with a face as leathery as hers.

"Never."

"Swear on god?" she asked and I didn't stop myself from snoring that time, crossing over my heart with a look that I hoped read sincere. "Alright. The phone is in the study."

"You're a legend!" I exclaimed, backtracking the moment offence started to crowd her features. "I just mean, thank you so much for the help is all."

"Study," she repeated, the clipped on the edge of her frown. Pointing toward the room just to the right of the hallway, the women crowded behind me until I had dialled Spencer's number. Panic sweats started to build up again when his phone clicked over onto voicemail and I bit back a curse at the sound of his tinny, relaxed message. Hanging up, I dialled his number one last time before throwing the landline back onto its receiver.

"Sorry to bother you, Mrs..." I trailed off, remembering I had never asked the woman her last name.

"Farns, Matilda Farns," she replied and I felt my face turn white. "Better manners next time a stranger invites you into their home, yes?"

"Yes, Mrs. Farns." I nodded aggressively. At her pointed look, I stammered for a reply, already edging back into the hallway. "Theodore... Theodore Morg. Sorry, I should've introduced myself immediately, just a bit stressed."

"Theodore Morg? The runner?" she questioned, brow pinching. "I could've sworn you were–"

"Yes, well it was lovely meeting you ma'am," I cut her sentence off before it could go anywhere problematic. Hanging above the front door was a neon alarm clock, ticking away within the mouth of a plastic Dalmatian. If I started running, I would probably make it in time for my name to be called. I'd miss Spencer walking up but still make it in time to catch Iris and the second person's whose identity I've stolen today. Fuck. "I should go, I'm late as it is and my friend appears to be out of commission."

"I doubt any busses will be running by the school for another half hour," Mrs. Farns frowned and god did she remind me of Stanley for a moment. A half-assed apology dripped at the end of my tongue. Part for the last encounter I had with him, part to apologise for her having to put up with an asshole for a grandson.

"I can walk–"

"You're welcome to borrow my grandson's bike," Mrs. Farns cut in and I shut my mouth instantly, watching as she waddled down the hall and into the kitchen. Following behind her, I caught the backdoor just in time to catch her pull out an old bike. It was obviously built for a much younger Stanley, as in ten and under. The wheels looked near deflated, the seat ready to all but eat my pants as I rode. Still, as Mrs. Farns dropped a Batman embroidered helmet onto my head that pinched my ears and further ruined my hair, I couldn't help but thank her. "Bring it back when you can, if not I will send Randell's cousin on you."

"Randell?" I questioned, as Mrs. Farns dragged the bike onto the sidewalk in front of her house. "There's more of them?"

"Pardon?" she asked, glancing up from her inspection of the rust-caked chain.

"Nothing," I said, waving her off. "Don't worry about the chain, I'm all but used to riding in such conditions."

Offering little more than a wave goodbye, Mrs. Farns crept up her front steps and into her house. Kicking off the sidewalk, I settled onto the bike and rode away quickly. The seat bit into my ass, bunching the fabric of my pants into the creases of my thighs but short of slowing for passing traffic, I forced the bike to speeds only seen in Back to the Future.

By the time Northbrooke High came into sight, I'd already sweat through the entirety of my shirt and lost the Batman helmet nineteen blocks back. Skidding to a stop in the parking lot, I spied Jenny's newly buffed car and threw the bike beside its rear tire, racing toward the lower field. A sea of black made itself visible, only a few people having settled in their seats and I realised I had made it. I was just on time.

"Fuck." I couldn't help myself, the curse bleeding from my lips in a haze of laughter and smiles. Standing nearly a foot above all those around him, the back of Tommo's head was the first recognisable thing I saw. Throwing an arm around his shoulders I grinned as he fumbled at the surprising weight, drawing away from his father to throw me a confused look.

"You look terrible," he remarked, gently prying me away from his freshly ironed graduation gown. The damage had already been done, a small sweat stain just standing out against the black sleeve.

"Long day," I said, extending a hand toward his father. The man looked seconds away from falling asleep where he stood, tie knotted loosely against his chest. "Good to see you again, sir."

"Don't take my son's words lightly," he chimed back, clapping the back of my hand before drawing away. "Bathroom would be a good stop to make, your father's pacing around the seats near the back row."

"Thanks." I pressed a quick smile, hurrying over to the school building. The back entry was open, clear signs posted for the washrooms and water fountains. Elbowing the men's bathroom door open I grimaced at the immediate sight that greeted me. Splashing water on my face, I ripped free a half-dozen paper towels, mopping at my face, hair and what I could under my arms. The shirt was ruined. Hopefully my gown would hide the worst of the damage. Combing a hand through my hair, forcing the strands away from my sticky face and into some more presentable form, I practiced my smile one last time – knowing no matter what I tried, Jenny's photos would turn out horrendous – and bolted back outside.

"Bow-Bow!" April's voice called out of seemingly nowhere, halfway down the corridor. I turned, watching as she all but bounced off the water fountain behind her and rushed my way. The arms she extended my way retracted the closer she got to me until we were all but chest to chest, April pinching the bridge of her nose. "You reek."

"I'm here though."

"Yeah, at the perfect time to be slaughtered," she scoffed, lip trembling as she punched my chest. "You can't do that! You can't just run away like that, you asshole."

"I know, I'm sorry. It was just an impulsive decision–"

"Well, you need to work on your goddamn impulses," April cut in, making to punch me again but I dodged in time for her to just catch my flank. "You asshole."

"I think that has been established."

"Mom's got your gown," April said and I let my shoulders sink back into their natural position, a weight lifted. "No garden hose to clean your stench off with though."

"Cute," I said, yelping when April grabbed my hand and made a run for it. Her heels all but cracked against the hardwood floors, skidding around the corner and out the back door with no regard for the stairs. Laughing, I tried to edge ahead of her only to receive an elbow to the side.

"Beau," Mom called, standing up from the seat she claimed and walking my way. Before I could say another word, she threw the gown over my head and wrestled it down in place across my shoulders. "You may be eighteen and you may be graduating today, but you're still my baby. You got that?"

Her words were stern but the worried little tremor in Mom's eyebrow gave her away and I nodded, accepting the fierce hug she pulled me in. "I got that."

"Never do anything like that again, nearly gave me a heart attack," she said, drawing back to press a gentle hand to my cheek. "Your father left to sit with Jenny closer to the front. I expect you two to have a proper discussion after the barbecue tonight."

"You might want this, btws," April interjected, dangling my phone in front of my face. I made to swipe it and she pulled back, making a show of scrolling through my notifications. "Lots of hysterical messages from Iris and Spencer... Iris seems to enjoy typing in all capitals."

"Oh my god, stop being a loser for five seconds," I sniped back, yanking my phone from April's hands while Mom chastised my language. Scanning through the messages, I sent a cease-fire text to Iris, letting her know I've turned up and would catch her at the barbecue. Dialling Spencer's number I waited for him to pick up, fumbling to hang up when his voicemail box clicked on. "Asshole."

"Ouch, if that's the kind of thing you don't leave on my mailbox, I'd hate to hear what you would."

Spinning on my heel I nearly jumped when Spencer's grin came into view, just to the right of April's bared shoulder. A nervous tremble seemed to run through him as he switched from foot to foot, black sneaker toes peeking from the edge of his slightly too short gown. My hands moved before my brain did, grabbing him by the front of his collar and pulling him into a kiss. It was only at April's abrupt coughing fit that I pulled back, remembering where I was and what the hell I was doing.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry I just... I wasn't thinking–"

"Beau, cool your jets." Spent grinned, placing his hands over where mine were scrunching fabric and skin. "It's fine. I'm just glad you finally made it."

"I'm glad eye bleach is a thing," April said, faking a gag.

"Shut up, you gossip," Spencer threw back, going as far as to nudge April's shoulder. I narrowed my eyes at their friendly teasing, jolting when Spencer placed a hand under my chin, dragging my gaze back his way. Back to blue eyes, mingling with grey and the boxy edges of his glasses. "You ready to grab the check and bolt from this hellhole for good?"

"You ready to tell me what happened on Halloween?"

April's eyes widen with interested and I held back a groan, forgetting our nosey audience when she mumbled, "Halloween?"

Spencer gnawed on the edge of his lip, fingers tapping at the underside of my chin in an uneven rhythm. He blew out a breath between his lips that smelt like guava Chapstick and mint. Shaking his head at her, Spencer gave April's shoulder another shove until she walked off after Mom's vanishing figure, then asked, "How much time do you have?"

"However much time you wanna have with me," I said, promised, swore.

"You better mean that."

"Every word of it." I grinned and Spencer nudged my chin, cheeks bright red as a smile peeled shyly across his own face.

"Okay." Reaching up to swipe the curve of my cheek as he nodded to himself. "Good."

"We're being disgustedly cheesy, aren't we?" I asked, nose curling at the thought as Spencer grabbed my hand and shrugged. Our fingers twined together as they had a million other times as we walked to our marked seats toward the front of the stage.

"Only as disgusting as every other person is at their gradation," he said, bumping my shoulder as he whispered, "I'm not sure if you know this, but high school is usually where people make their biggest memories, mistakes, and friendships."

"I'm guessing you're all three of those things then," I teased back, weaving through the cluster of students filling the aisles between the rows, all trying to find their seats and say quick goodbyes to their friends as though they weren't going to reunite again in a few hours. I glanced back at April's dot of a face in the crowd, the gentle smile on my Mom's face, the nod my Dad sent and let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding.

"This is where we part," Spencer spoke up, gesturing at my aisle and I frowned. I hadn't realised we had moved so quickly. I caught Iris' grinning face in the row behind me, the excited wave she flashed us, Tommo's smug grin only a couple seats further, and the light fist-bump he threw our way. Shaking my wrist, Spencer gave me a wide and toothy smile. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah, this is perfect," I said, squeezing Spencer's hand goodbye, shuffling into my own seat. As he walked away I didn't drop my gaze until he sat down, his head level with the crowd, and the tinny sound of the on-stage speaker bellowed out over us. In that moment, listening to Principal Olbrige welcome us, fellow students, family, alumni, I knew no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay.