Naturally, with a title like that^, this turns out to be the most embarrassing story of my life to date. Let’s proceed.
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May 21st, 2008. It’s my 2,339th day of school together with these kids. The same kids who do not classify me or my leprous Astro Van as “cool”. Smart, yes. Laid-back, sure. But not cool. As long as no one rolls their eyes at the mention of “Katie B.”, that’s as cool as I need to be.
And so far, I’ve succeeded, and it all comes to a close tonight:
Grad Night– A milestone I’ve awaited since my first time being sent to the principal’s office…last Tuesday. (No joke.)
Dusk has fallen. Me and my 317 fellow classmates, all in matching shirts, flow into the school for an all-night hurrah before we part ways forever. Our school has been transformed into a jaw-dropping Indiana Jones scene, providing a perfect venue for the camaraderie among us in our last hours together.
The hours fly by as we squeeze in every bit of enjoyment provided by endless activities, entertainment, and food. It’s everything a celebration should be: fun, happy, and shared with friends.
It’s nearly morning and for the last hour, I’ve been tearing around the indoor track on a pair of old roller skates laughing along with a rather dashing young man, when a thought surprises me — I’m actually becoming friends with this kid. A kid who is…get this… second-string popular. (High-fives all around!) He could have picked anyone in his swarms of charismatic friends to pal around with, but he is here roller-skating with me. I can’t help but ask myself,
Have I made it? Am I finally “cool”?
The minuscule possibility of maybe being sort of a teeny bit cool is wholly invigorating, however, it’s already 5am. There are only precious minutes left to bask in this newfound triumph.
To wrap up the night, we are ushered to the gym floor in front of a projector screen for the long-awaited Senior Slideshow that a parent put together. All 318 of us huddle cross-legged on the ground, like we’d done all through elementary school. It’s this beautiful, bonding moment, like we’ve come full circle and anyone can be anyone’s friend, as if we are five again. I breathe deep and just live in this moment.
The music starts. I’m already choking up. It’s the classic Green Day song.
Another turning point a fork stuck in the road, time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go…
- Picture of Vinny at a baseball game (Aww…I’m really going to miss him. )
- Picture of Pam skipping down the halls (Aww)
- Picture of me devouring a corn cob in the background of a picture of my sister. (Odd pause.)
- Picture of Gabby and her BFF Jasmine. (That’s pretty sweet, let’s forget that previous photo.)
- Picture of me at a private piano lesson. (huh?)
- Picture of me and my brother sledding at a family reunion. (This time, I hear an audible, “What the heck?”)
Realization hits me.
The Awkward that is gushing into the gym is suffocating. My nerves crackle with sheer terror.
I know exactly how the rest of the show is going to go. The slideshow maker was somehow given access to my family’s ENTIRE memory card.
It was an irreversible error that’s now creating the most socially traumatic experience of my life.
Slide after slide of me at family outings infest the rest of the 20-minute presentation. I duck my head in ego-melting shame as my unblinking eyes stare a hole through the gym floor. I glance up every minute or so to confirm it really is as bad as my sweaty palms are telling me.
My only hope of escape lies with that anonymous kid that occasionally pulls the fire alarm. Where is he now? This emergency requires a mass exodus.
After a few thousand years in this social torture chamber, the show finally concludes. We have one final activity to end the night.
To my great misfortune, this involves gathering in a circle, where everyone can (and does) shoot disgusted looks my way, as if they haven’t seen enough of me this night.
We sing sappy songs, trying to recover a beautiful moment, but to no avail. I’d spent 13 long years convincing these 317 people that I’m not an idiot only for that to be undone in our last 20 minutes together.
As they walk out the door to the rest of their lives, they don’t remember Katie the Laid-Back nor Katie the Smart, but forever impressed in their minds will be Katie the Egocentric, self-absorbed girl who turned our High School Graduation Party into a Spotlight on her.
But here’s the worst of it — that new friend I made never talked to me again. Like ever. We’re not even Facebook friends.
We can clearly assume that’s a no, then. I am not “finally cool.”