Bonus Chapter
TWO YEARS LATER
I’m going to throw up.
And not metaphorically, either. My stomach is doing that thing where it tries to crawl out of my throat and hide under the nearest chair.
Standing in the wings of the auditorium, my black gown swishes around my ankles, and the stupid flat cap is pinching my scalp. The air back here is too warm, heavy with dust and stage lights.
Applause leaks through the curtain in muffled waves, each burst tightening something in my chest. They’re already out there.
Waiting.
I wipe my palms against the fabric of my gown and immediately regret it.
Summa cum laude.
Top 0.5% of the graduating class. Master of Science in Forensic Chemistry, New York University.
The words don’t feel real yet.
They sound like they belong to someone else’s life.
Two years ago, I laughed when Sophia asked about grad school. The next day, I signed up anyway. Now I’ve got a 3.98 GPA and a lab coat hanging in my closet with my name stitched on it in purple thread, because Sophia thought it would be “cute.”
Someone’s name gets called, the crowd claps politely, and I shuffle forward one spot. My heels click too loudly on the hardwood, and I think of Xander insisting they’d make me feel steadier, but all they do is make my wobbly self a little taller.
I sneak a glance past the curtain, and the sight sends a wave of calm through me—my stomach unclenches, just enough that I can take a full breath again.
There, in the front row, Howie is sitting with a bright smile, blazer and everything, eyes already glassy.
Sophia is next to him, clutching a pack of tissues.
Chiara’s sitting between her and Leo, holding a glittery sign that says WE STAN A LAB QUEEN in purple Sharpie, and in the second row, right behind them, are my men.
Clay is standing on his fucking chair, phone up, filming, and Joshua is unsuccessfully trying to yank him down by the belt. Xander is in head-to-toe black, arms crossed, with sunglasses on indoors so he can pretend he’s not crying, but I can see the tremor in his jaw from here.
In the third row is half the goddamn crime lab—colleagues who have turned into friends over the years. I didn’t realize how many people were holding me up, but seeing them all together is a welcomed sight.
Yep, I’m going to throw up for real.
Or maybe if I open my mouth, I’ll laugh. Or both.
My body hasn’t decided whether this is terror or joy, and I don’t trust it either way.
“Carolina Costa.” The dean says my name, and I force myself to move.
There it is. The part where I either black out or become a functional adult in public.
Don’t trip. Don’t trip.
The stage lights are blinding, the applause is loud, and someone whistles so shrill, it has to be Chiara. I shake the dean’s hand, then take the diploma, smiling for the photographer, then the dean steps back, and the auditorium lights feel hotter than the surface of the sun.
My name echoes again, louder this time. “Carolina Costa, summa cum laude, will now deliver the commencement address.”
Of course I am. Because why stop at public humiliation when you can add a microphone?
Stepping up to the podium, I set my diploma down, leaning into the mic. To my surprise and immediate relief, my hands don’t shake, and my voice is steady.
Miracles do happen.
“When I started studying, I thought forensic chemistry was about finding answers in blood and fibers and residue. Turns out, it’s actually about finding answers in the smallest things that refuse to disappear. Take a cheeseburger, for example.”
I smile down at Howie. “Seven years ago, I was twenty-one, working three jobs, and convinced hope was a luxury I’d never be able to afford.
Every night after my shift, I’d buy two-dollar cheeseburgers from the 7-Eleven on the corner.
One for me, one for the man who sat outside on the same patch of concrete.
Most nights, he hadn’t eaten all day. I hadn’t either.
We never said much. We sat there, unwrapped the foil, and ate in silence while the city screamed around us. ”
Sophia puts an arm around Howie’s shoulders, who nods along with tight lips.
“Those burgers weren’t gourmet. They were greasy, cheap, and usually cold by the time we got to them, but they were proof.
Proof that tomorrow was worth showing up for.
Proof that someone noticed you were still breathing.
Proof that the smallest act of kindness can be the difference between giving up and trying one more day. ”
Howie still nods at me when his palm comes to rest over his heart.
“In the lab, we call that trace evidence. Something so tiny it’s easy to overlook, but impossible to erase once you know where to look.
Forensic chemistry taught me that nothing is ever truly gone.
Not poison in a bloodstream, the gunshot residue on a sleeve, or the fingerprints of kindness on a brittle heart. ”
I take a deep breath and continue, “Every sample we analyze has a story. It doesn’t care how broken the container was when it arrived. It only cares that someone finally decided to listen. That’s what this degree is, a promise to listen to stories no one else bothered to hear.”
Sophia mouths a “so proud” when my gaze finds hers.
“To the kids still counting quarters to afford a dollar-burger, your story isn’t over.
To the professors who stayed late to explain concepts one more time, thank you for refusing to let us disappear.
To the man in the front row who taught me that family doesn’t need a roof to be real, thank you for every shared cold burger and every new tomorrow. ”
For one heartbeat, the room is perfectly still.
“And to the three men in row two who turned always into a verb, thank you for teaching me that love leaves fingerprints too. The kind that never washes off, no matter how hard the world tries.”
Clay whoops so loud, campus security probably twitches. Joshua buries his face in his hands, and Xander finally yanks his sunglasses off, showing his tears.
“You may have noticed, I’m not good at speeches…” I smile when soft chuckles fill the room, “… but I’m really good at not giving up. Turns out, that’s enough to be chosen for the commencement address.”
For one heartbeat, the room is perfectly still. My eyes find Joshua’s again, then Clay’s, and Xander’s teary ones. I don’t feel alone up here, not even a little. The thought steadies me more than any practiced line ever could.
I’m fine.
No nausea. No panic. No puking on the dean.
“I think what I want to say is that, today, we walk out of here with fancy paper and heavier debts, but we also walk out with the tools to find truth in the smallest places. A hair. A fiber. A half-eaten cheeseburger on a winter night. So go find the evidence that refuses to stay buried. Go be the proof someone else needs to keep breathing. And if you ever doubt tomorrow is worth it, remember, sometimes all it takes is one person willing to split their dinner.”
Picking up the diploma, I hold it up high. “We did it. Now let’s go listen.”
I step back, just as the applause explodes.
Clay has started a standing ovation, and everyone else is just following the crazy person.
His whistle cuts through everything. Howie is on his feet too, clapping so hard his whole body shakes.
Sophia is sobbing openly, and Chiara’s sign is now a blur of purple glitter.
Xander’s hands are cupped around his mouth, shouting something I can’t hear, but know anyway, and warmth spreads through me, anchoring me where I stand.
Seven years ago, sitting on that cold concrete floor, sharing my burger with my only friend, I was yearning for this—for someone to lean on, for someone to be there for me.
I’ve never been less alone in my life.
By the time I walk off the stage with the biggest fucking smile I’ve ever worn, they’ve all gotten up from their seats and are making their way over to mob me.
Xander gets there first. One second I’m on the floor, the next I’m airborne, feet off the ground, his face buried in my neck like he needs to breathe me in to make sure I’m real.
“Fuck, pumpkin. Fuck.”
That’s all he says, over and over, arms locked around me so tight I can barely breathe, and for once, I don’t want to. I want to stay right here, suspended in it.
When he finally sets me down, Clay barrels in next, stealing my cap and shoving it back on my head backward.
“That’s my fucking girl!” He kisses me hard while still grinning, tasting like eucalyptus and adrenaline and pride.
“So proud,” Joshua says quietly, like the words are just for me. He cups my face the second Clay lets go, thumbs brushing beneath my eyes before he kisses my cheek, grounding me when the noise starts to swell again.
“A master’s degree speech about cheeseburgers?” Howie asks from beside me, lifting an eyebrow.
I shrug, still a little dazed. “I told them they’d regret letting me do it.”
He huffs a laugh, then pulls me into a tight hug, whispering. “Well done, kiddo.”
Sophia is crying openly into Chiara’s shoulder now, mascara probably ruined, while Chiara films everything on her phone, having poor Leo holding the glitter sign.
There are hands on me everywhere. Laughter. Noise. Love, coming at me from all sides.
I don’t shrink from it.
I don’t disappear into it.
I just stand there and let myself be held by all of it.
I’m surrounded by family.
We take what feels like a thousand pictures.
Someone’s aunt keeps trying to organize us, and Clay ruins every attempt by popping into frame at the last second.
At some point, Joshua’s hand finds mine, Xander’s stays warm and steady at the back of my neck, and I stop paying attention to the camera altogether.
Eventually, we escape to the parking lot and make our way home.
The house is chaos the minute we get there. Sophia and Howie apparently have been planning this for hours—three cakes, two trays of burgers “for tradition,” and enough champagne to drown a horse waiting on the counter.