59

My name echoes over the loudspeakers.

"Senna Catherine McAnthony. Valedictorian."

They don't clap like they did for everyone else.

No whoops. No chants. No "go bestie!"

Just silence. A few polite claps. One or two coughs.

But I don't flinch.

Because I can hear him.

Luca's cheering like he just won the Super Bowl. Loud. Unbothered. Hands cupped around his mouth like a man with nothing to lose and a girl he's too in love with.

Behind him: Bear's jumping like his sneakers have springs. Auggie's on our dad's shoulders yelling, "THAT'S MY SISTER!"

My mom is crying. My dad's filming, jaw clenched, proud and teary. India and Egypt are beside Luca, decked out in glitter eyeliner and screaming like I'm Beyoncé.

And suddenly, I don't care about the rest.

I step up to the podium.

My palms sweat against the paper I've rewritten twenty times.

Not because I wanted to say something perfect.

Because I wanted to say something real.

I look out at the crowd. Mostly white. Mostly detached. Mostly people who pretended I didn't exist unless I was raising the class average or getting stopped by security "just to check."

I clear my throat.

"Good evening. My name is Senna McAnthony, and I'm honored to be your valedictorian."

A few claps. Some bored stares.

"There's a lot I could say. About hard work. About pushing through. About dreaming big."

"But that wouldn't be honest."

People shift in their chairs.

"Because sometimes, it wasn't inspiring. Sometimes, it was just lonely."

My voice stays steady.

"I walked these halls alone more times than I can count. I ate lunch in corners. I smiled when I was hurting. And I got used to silence where celebration should've been."

"But I kept showing up."

I glance at Luca. He nods, eyes glossy.

"I kept showing up because there were two little brothers watching. Because my mom left 12-hour shifts to braid my hair the night before presentations. Because my dad believed in me when I didn't. Because two best friends never let me forget who I was."

"And because one boy saw me under a staircase and decided I was worth sitting with."

I don't look at Luca again - I'd cry if I did.

"So today, I don't thank this school. I thank my people. The ones who clapped when no one else did."

"The ones who taught me that I never needed a crowd to matter."

"I only needed me. And them."

When I finish, the silence is louder than the speech.

But from my row, I hear the sound of my world cheering.

And that's enough.

After the ceremony, I barely get off the stage before I'm tackled by Bear and Auggie.

"You killed it, Queen Raisin!" Bear shouts.

"Can I have your diploma?" Auggie grins.

"It's not edible, Auggie," I laugh, hugging them both.

My mom crushes me into her arms next. Her voice is wet with emotion.

"I'm so proud of you, baby. You made it. You really made it."

"We always knew you would," my dad says, kissing my forehead. "Even when they didn't."

India and Egypt shriek as they run toward me.

"YOU'RE A LEGEND."

"Can you sign my shirt like a celebrity?"

I grin until my cheeks ache.

Then Luca.

God.

He walks toward me like I hung the moon just for him.

"Valedictorian," he says, pulling me in. "That was the single most badass, poetic thing I've ever witnessed."

"You cried," I tease.

"I sobbed we're graduating highschool."

He presses his forehead to mine, arms wrapped around my waist, and I close my eyes.

This is the real ceremony.

Not the speech.

Not the tassels.

This - their love. Their joy. The warmth of being seen in full color after being invisible in black and white.

"You're not done, you know," Luca whispers.

"No?"

"No. Nursing school's next. And the whole world better make room, Senna Monroe."

"That's Senna Catherine Monroe, valedictorian, first of her name, slayer of stereotypes, destroyer of microaggressions-"

He kisses me before I can finish.

I think it's the best kiss of my life.

And that's saying something.

---------------------------------------------------------

My father doesn't yell.

He states things. Like they're gravity.

Like fighting back is childish. Embarrassing.

Like he's disappointed you needed a choice in the first place.

"The acceptance from Geneva came in this morning."

I nod. Swallow.

"Your mother's already arranged housing. It's settled."

Settled.

Like a court case.

Like dust.

Like I'm not twenty and in love and aching to stay with the only person who's ever made me feel like something more than a perfectly built résumé.

My mother smiles like it's a press conference.

"You'll be across the street from the hospital. The best placement they've offered in five years."

She's in pearls. She's always in pearls.

Because we're Churchills.

Because feelings are gauche.

Because crying is for other people's sons.

"We're so proud of you, Luca."

They say it like a headline. Not a hug.

I open my mouth.

"Senna-"

"-will understand," my father interrupts.

"She's... she's everything. I want to stay. I can go to Columbia, or even-"

"Don't be foolish," he says sharply. "The world doesn't bend for high school romance."

High school romance.

Like she hasn't sat beside me in every heartbreak.

Like she didn't hold me after I flunked my first chem test and thought the world was ending.

Like she didn't teach me how to see myself when all they ever gave me was pressure and perfection.

"You're going," my father says. "There's no discussion."

There never is.

Because I'm a Churchill.

Because we don't break rank.

Because the love of my life isn't enough for them -

And I don't have the spine to say no.

Later that night, I stare at my ceiling.

My room is quiet.

Too clean. Too curated. Too much like a brochure.

Senna doesn't know yet.

I haven't told her.

Because if I say it out loud, it becomes real.

And once it's real...

I don't know how to be okay with the fact that I'm leaving my whole heart behind.