High School Hangover Read online

  High School Hangover

  by

  Stephanie Hale

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2012 by Stephanie Hale

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. Short excerpts from reviewers are the only exception.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  For a brief moment of insanity, I’d actually considered throwing my GPA just to avoid having to give this valedictorian speech. I wish I was one of those naturally gifted speakers who could make people laugh while delivering an important message, but I’m more the type that feels the urge to hurl before getting in front of a large crowd. Besides, humor isn’t really my strong point, which I blame on my insanely high IQ. But it doesn’t matter because I am killing my speech, in a good way. I’m so glad I trusted my instincts and didn’t do the ridiculous graduation rap that my grandparents suggested.

  “In conclusion, our generation is inheriting historically high unemployment rates, monumental student loan debt, and a health care crisis, but I believe that we should face these challenges head on,” I say confidently.

  I obviously had nothing to worry about because my fellow classmates and the gymnasium full of loved ones who came to see them graduate are absolutely riveted. Some people’s mouths are actually hanging open. Mom’s advice was to lean more sentimental, but I’m really glad I ignored her, too. I couldn’t imagine that people would want to hear my kindergarten memories when there are so many crises in the world. Besides, regurgitating facts and current events are what I’m good at, not making small talk about dances, clubs, and parties I never fit into.

  I’m feeling so brave that my eyes scan my graduating class for one face in particular. Leo Doolin. His eyes meet mine and he winks flirtatiously at me. Leo Doolin, God among mere boys, just winked at me! His gesture shocks me so much that I bump the podium I’m standing behind and my note cards go fluttering to the ground. I start to panic then realize I only have one last line to recite. I take a deep breath and deliver my pièce de résistance.

  “The rest of our lives are not going to be easy. But I truly believe that some of us will persevere,” I finish. I wait patiently for the applause to start, but it is so quiet I’m pretty sure I could hear a cricket chirp.

  “Thank you,” I add into the microphone, thinking that maybe the crowd doesn’t realize my speech is over, even though that last line should have summed it up for them. I step slightly back from the podium still waiting patiently for my accolades.

  I sneak a glance at Leo again and he flashes me a thumbs up. At least somebody appreciated the twenty hours of writing and rewriting that went into my speech.

  It starts to feel super awkward just standing here, so I back slowly away from the podium. I’m about to turn and walk off the stage when the crowd starts cheering wildly. I clutch my hands to my chest and barely hold back tears.

  I had hoped for applause, but I’d never expected a reaction like this. I’m beyond happy that everyone was so moved by my speech. The cheers soon turn to howling laughter. Over the cheers, I hear a ruckus starting behind me.

  Still basking in the crowd’s approval, I turn around very slowly to see what’s going on. I’m completely unprepared to see Parker Zinn, resident class clown, mooning the entire gymnasium. Principal Wrigley is trying to wrestle him off the stage which only results in Parker spinning out of his grasp. Suddenly, Parker’s man junk is facing the crowd and mere inches from me. I twist around so fast I practically give myself whiplash. I bend down and grab for my note cards trying to hide my face that is now scorching in humiliation. I’m not sure if I’m more embarrassed about seeing a boy’s private parts for the first time or realizing that the crowd was cheering for Parker and not my speech.

  “Thank you, Janey,” Principal Wrigley grunts, still wrestling with Parker.

  “It’s Laney,” I correct him then scurry off the stage. You would think that consistently getting the highest GPA every quarter for the last four years might make him remember my name, but apparently not. I wonder if anyone in my graduating class will remember me after today or if I will just become that girl who had her valedictorian speech punctuated by a joker’s genitals.

  I make my way back to my seat without meeting anyone’s eyes. I’m sure I’ll be a laughing stock at all the graduation parties this weekend. Not that it really matters since I haven’t been invited to any. No one intentionally excluded me; I did that all by myself. Socializing always took a back seat to academics. I’ve always admired some of my classmates, Leo in particular, who could party and still maintain a high GPA. I just never felt like I could balance it. Besides, being social has always kind of terrified me. Books are predictable, people are not.

  “Dude, your speech sucked,” Matt Wood says. He holds his palm up for me to high five anyway. After being lumped next to him alphabetically for the last twelve years, I can’t say I’m going to miss him. But I slap his palm back just to be a good sport.

  None of that matters now, anyway. In a few months, I’ll be headed off to college. It’ll be a fresh start and I’m determined to find a way to connect more with people while maintaining straight A’s. At college, I’ll have it all.

  Principal Wrigley hands Parker off to the school security officers and bolts back to the microphone. “Students, if you would please move your tassels,” he says, clearly rushing the ceremony before anyone else gets any bright ideas. We all reach up to our graduation caps and move our red and gold tassels from the right to the left side. “Ladies and gentleman, it is my honor to present you with the newest graduating class of Higginsville High School.”

  Screams of joy echo through the gymnasium as ninety-seven caps go sailing through the air. I take mine off and tuck it under my arm so it looks like I threw it. I’d worked way too hard for this silly cardboard hat to fling it through the air, never to be seen again. I know they are all identical, and it’s not like we are still in grade school with lice running rampant, but still, this one is mine and I want to keep it forever.

  Mass confusion ensues as the relatives descend onto the gym floor. I’m quickly surrounded by my mother and my grandparents. My entourage pales in comparison to the brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins flocking to my classmates, but I try not to care.

  “I guess I should have done the rap after all,” I admit.

  “You were amazing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” my mother, Karen, dotes, messing with my valedictorian sash. She throws her arms around me and pulls me toward her. I hug her back and try to stop myself from wishing that it was Dad’s arms around me instead. I just miss him so much. My parents promised that nothing was going to change when they got divorced, but they were wrong. Everything changed.

  “It was depressing,” Grandpa chimes in. “I felt like I had just got done reading the obituaries.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa. Don’t sugarcoat it or anything,” I say.

  “Don’t listen to him. He’s getting senile,” Grandma adds.

  “What do you mean, getting?” I tease. If only I could be as comfortable talking to everyone e
lse as I am my grandparents.

  “Ooh, let me see your diploma,” Mom says, backing out of our embrace, grabbing my diploma out of my hand. She opens the faux-leather cover to peek at the document inside. Her eyes get misty as she sees my full name printed in black ink across the middle. Laney Nicole Wentworth. I ran my finger over my name so many times during the ceremony I’m surprised it didn’t get smudged.

  “I’m so proud of you, and so is Dad,” she says.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I force out, through gritted teeth. I hate it when she tries to speak for Dad. I know that he is proud of me, and I don’t need her reminding me.

  The divorce was three years ago and I still can’t articulate how I feel about it. Sometimes I’m mad, but mostly I’m just sad. I feel like Mom made the decision to end it and Dad never even got a say. As much as I love her, it’s been hard not holding that against her.

  “We did it,” my best friend, Erika, shouts, pulling at my gown trying to get a hug. I’m thankful for the distraction.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I say, squeezing her tight. It was touch and go for a little while on whether Erika was going to graduate, but I tutored her to help bring her grades up. Erika is a complete social butterfly who took pity on me freshman year when I was too afraid to even eat in the cafeteria. I never understood the phrase “opposites attract” until I met her. She has been the best friend that any girl could ask for. She never complains when I bail on her to study, which is a lot. She balances out my tendency to be completely anti-social most of the time.

  “Gotta jet,” she says, then she disappears as fast as she appeared.

  My stomach drops as her gown vanishes into a sea of black, realizing that soon I won’t be seeing her every day, or even every week. I’m going to miss the fun and spontaneity she brings to my life. She really pushes me out of my comfort zone, which even though I hate to admit, I do need sometimes. Erika has been a bit of a crutch for me socially and I’m secretly terrified I might go back to being the girl too scared to even eat in the cafeteria again without her. But I’m determined to do things differently at college.

  “Do you have some hot parties to get to or can you hang out with your lame family for a while?” Mom teases, but I can see the hopeful look in her eyes.

  I put my index finger to my chin and pretend to contemplate my non-existent plans. Mom play slaps my arm and I giggle, blowing my act. I’m not used to having any time to even make plans. It feels weird not to have any studying to do. I’ve been checking my college’s website compulsively to see if they have posted the freshman reading list yet, but to no avail. So I guess I have no choice, I’ll have to loosen up a bit and have some fun today.

  It’s not that I don’t like spending time with Mom. It’s just that it makes me remember all the game and movie nights we had as a family and everything I’m missing now that she and Dad are divorced. I know I should really be over it by now, but I’m not. I think I would feel different if Dad hadn’t moved to another state and I could at least see him every once in a while. I’m lucky to see him once a year. I still can’t believe that he couldn’t be here to see me graduate.

  “Let’s hit the buffet. My treat,” Grandpa offers, cutting in on my mental pity party, as we make our way toward the exit.

  “Dad, I think Laney should get to pick since it’s her special day,” Mom chastises Grandpa, even though we all know that we will end up at the buffet because Grandpa only goes out to eat if it is all-you-can-eat. The buffet is to senior citizens what the club scene is to most twenty-something’s. At least I won’t have to worry about any awkward interactions with my classmates.

  “The buffet is fine,” I answer, barely paying attention. I navigate my family out of the gymnasium as fast as they will go. While I’m friendly to everyone and vice versa, I don’t have any close friends except Erika. It stings a bit to see everyone hugging and cheesing for pictures together, and I really want to get out of here so that I can quit being reminded of what a social failure I’ve been.

  “Your speech was great, Laney,” a male voice says from behind me. I swing around to come face-to-face with Jack McAllister. He bats his ridiculously long, girlish lashes at me and, for a split second, I have to remind myself that being Jack’s lab partner almost cost me my dream of being valedictorian.

  “Hello, Ms. Mathers,” Jack says charmingly, totally kissing up to Mom. I cringe hearing my mother’s maiden name. It’s like being divorced from Dad wasn’t good enough. She had to make it like the entire marriage didn’t happen. Sometimes I wonder if she wishes I hadn’t been born too, so she could completely forget Dad ever existed.

  “Thanks, Jack. I hope you were able to understand some of it,” I say, deflecting some of my divorce anger onto him. I don’t usually have the backbone to speak to people like that, but Jack and I have history. I steer my family as far away from him as possible.

  “Laney, that was rude. He’s a sweet kid,” Mom says, zigzagging her head trying to visually dodge the crowd to wave goodbye to Jack.

  “He’s a total waste of oxygen,” I say, hating how mean I sound, but remembering how stupid I felt when I realized that I was starting to have feelings for Jack only to have him stand me up the day of our lab presentation.

  “Whatever you say,” Mom says. She gives me a suspicious look, which I expertly ignore. Thankfully, I never told anyone that I was starting to crush on Jack. Not even Erika. I really don’t know what I was thinking, anyway. Just because a guy can make S’mores on a Bunsen burner doesn’t make him boyfriend material.

  I strategically navigate my grandparents through the streamer and balloon decorated hallway.

  “Wait, there’s cookies and punch,” Grandma says, using the same tone that someone might to warn people of a fire. I’m not escaping this place anytime soon. I give up and hide out next to the school’s trophy case while my grandparents stock up on cookies like sweets have just become illegal.

  My grandparents are total kleptomaniacs. If it’s free, it isn’t safe, which I guess isn’t technically stealing, but they usually take enough for a family of ten. They steal ketchup packets, jelly tubs, creamers, and anything else that isn’t nailed down in a restaurant. Now that they live with us, our refrigerator is constantly overflowing with useless condiments, but I can’t imagine our house without them. I love listening to them talk about how things used to be. I would gladly go back to a time when there weren’t about ten different ways to be socially rejected by people.

  Mom rolls her eyes at me and heads off to chaperone them. I snicker as I see her scold Grandpa as he tries to pilfer a fourth chocolate chip cookie. My grandparents have been a good buffer between me and Mom these last three years. Anytime Mom tried to have a heart-to-heart, I could pretty much count on one of them to interrupt us, saving me.

  “You’re still mad about that chem grade, aren’t you?” Jack asks, startling me.

  Jack is like the human equivalent of the sneaky neighborhood cat everyone despises, always ambushing your morning newspaper with a bloody mouse carcass or spraying your once-sweet-smelling rose bush when you least expect it. Luckily, it only takes a split second for me to remember my beef with Jack and react accordingly.

  “I asked you to do one thing,” I remind him, my words suddenly laced with acid. I refuse to make eye contact with him, so my eyes just ping-pong off his outrageously-in-need-of-a-cut naturally curly chestnut hair, his heart-shaped lips, and his adorable ear lobes. Oh, no, I’m doing it again. I can’t believe how into him I let myself get. At the time, I felt like the feeling was mutual, but then he stood me up. The worst part was that he wouldn’t even ’fess up, he just made up some ridiculous story about how our project got stolen out of his locker. Like anyone would want to steal a chemistry project. I refuse to fall for Jack’s charms again.

  “I tried to get old man Snow to change your grade. I even offered to do extra credit to make up for your grade,” he says, his voice almost pleading at the end.

  “I know, I know, somebo
dy stole the project out of your locker, blah, blah, blah. Being your lab partner that quarter earned me the only B I’ve ever gotten in my entire life,” I explain so slowly that even a toddler could understand how big of a deal that grade was to me.

  “Dimples, I’m really sorry,” he almost-whispers. I had forgotten all about the nickname that Jack gave me when we were partners. Hearing him whisper that is like my Kryptonite, but I can’t let him see that.

  “We’ll probably never see each other again after today, so it doesn’t really matter,” I say, defeated. Today has been an emotional day and this confrontation is the last thing I expected.

  Jack’s annoyingly perfect shade of chlorophyll eyes take on a pained expression. Before he can respond, Leo Doolin saunters up almost directly behind him, all six foot, three inches of him. My heart rate picks up considerably.

  Leo unzips and steps out of his graduation gown revealing a powder blue dress shirt and neatly-pressed black slacks. I physically cannot look away.

  “Are you seriously still hot for that douche?” Jack asks, exasperated. For a second, I forgot he was even standing here. I fan myself with my diploma, my eyes still following Leo.

  “He helped me out of a tight spot once,” I remind Jack. “Remember?”

  Sophomore year, Jack and I were assigned as lab partners. We worked well together and Jack even made it fun. So without hesitation, I allowed him to keep our project in his locker for safe keeping. The morning of the presentation, he was MIA.

  As I stood in front of the class trying to remember our presentation from memory, Leo volunteered to help me. He couldn’t really do much since he hadn’t participated in our research, but I was grateful that he was willing to stand up with me.

  Before that day, I just thought that Leo was an obnoxious jock who somehow lucked out and got good grades. That terrible day showed me that Leo has more character than Jack ever will.