Chapter 61
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
DAKOTA
Five Months After
Wind blew across the field, catching strands of my hair and ruffling the tassel on my graduation cap. My mind was numb.
A gray sky arced above my graduating class as we sat in rows of chairs on the football field.
I’d never been inside the stadium before now, but I couldn’t look at any of it.
I stared at my boots on the turf, the black polyester robe draped over my exhausted body.
I hadn’t been able to eat anything this morning, and my stomach ached with emptiness.
No one was here to see me get my diploma.
Not my parents.
Not Mason.
Not…
I blinked fast, looking up at the sky as I grabbed my locket and warmed the metal between my pointer finger and thumb.
I am nothing and no one loves me anymore.
I’d recently developed a fear of opening my locket in public, because I was afraid Micah’s picture would somehow fall out, so I didn’t mess with the clasp at all, didn’t click it open and shut like I used to. I just held it.
I didn’t even have my own picture of him to use.
I’d printed out the one of himself hiking from his introduction slide he’d pulled up on the first day of lecture, on the first day I met him.
That was the only thing I fucking had. I hated myself for that.
I’d made a mental note to take a picture of him for his contact photo, but I never did it.
The voices of my classmates were a million miles away, but none of them were talking to me, so it didn’t matter. Nobody ever talked to me, and I never spoke.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.
Tried to focus on my inhales and exhales.
Out of the thousands of people in this stadium, I was the only one who remembered him. The only one who knew he ever existed.
And that might’ve been the worst part of it all.
Micah Killshaw didn’t exist here.
He’d shaped so many minds, contributed so much to the school’s body of knowledge, spent so many hours working on his research, writing his own doctorate, and yet, if I spoke about him, not one soul would know who I was talking about.
I could even show them his picture, or point to the plaque next to his office—if it was still there, and it would all be blank in their mind. The second they stopped looking at it, everything reset.
None of them had ichor in their blood, and because of it, he’d been forgotten.
I wouldn’t have remembered him either, if I hadn’t been turned into an angel.
I could feel the makeup on my face, and I wasn’t sure now why I’d even bothered with it at all, why I’d thought it would be good for me to try and look nice today. Today was the worst day ever.
The second worst.
My mom could’ve showed up for me, but she didn’t.
She only lived thirty minutes from campus.
I’d texted her the date and time of the ceremony a few weeks ago, but she’d given me some excuse I couldn’t remember now.
Probably mad I didn’t go to my brother’s wedding last month.
And Mila was out of the country, visiting family in Russia.
There wasn’t anyone else I expected might’ve been interested in supporting me.
Not even Mason.
That thought made me want to cry all over again, with anger this time. Sometimes I felt like he wasn’t even trying. At least I was trying.
And as much as I hated chemical engineering, it was the biggest piece of Micah I had left.
He was in every number, every calculation, every report written and exam taken.
I imagined him encouraging me from the blank spaces on the paper, soothing my anxieties and reassuring me like he used to.
But Mason didn’t give a fuck about it, about this entire part of my life that I’d shared with Micah.
He hated it. He viewed chemical engineering as the thing that’d taken Micah from him, when that wasn’t the truth.
Chemical engineering was how Micah coped with losing the love of his life.
Even if he’d never explicitly said those words to me, I could fit all the puzzle pieces together.
I thought of the first day he’d taken me to that cliff, when I’d asked him why he chose chemical engineering. His answer had been a distraction.
Now I knew what he’d needed distracting from.
The loss of Mason.
The president of Blackpine launched into a bullshit speech about our brilliance and our futures, talking about how we would look back on this time in the future.
There were too many people at the school for them to call everyone’s name individually, or for all of us to even walk across the main stage.
Several tables were set up on the turf, arranged by major and last name.
They’d given us a slip for the pictures, a scrap of paper with an identification number on it, something they could scan to return the pictures to the right person, but I dropped mine on the ground as I walked down the stairs.
I didn’t want any pictures. When they asked for my slip, I ignored them and walked straight past to stand in my line.
I sort of felt like I was going to pass out as I kept taking steps forward.
This is really happening right now and he’s really not here.
A wave of panic swelled in my throat. I wanted to turn around and run in the other direction. I wanted to pause time so this wouldn’t happen. I didn’t feel ready.
But the minutes kept moving.
My diploma was handed to me, navy blue with silver foil.
Dakota Masters, Bachelor’s of Science.
Fucking stupid. Fucking pointless.
I didn’t want to be here receiving this without him.
Despite meeting him in my last year of college, he’d shaped my entire experience.
He was the only one of my professors to see me, to push me, to believe in me.
I’d never felt believed in before him. And the fact that he never got to see me receive my diploma was the cruelest joke the universe could’ve played on me.
The wound of Micah’s death didn’t hurt me any less now than it did on the day I returned to Earth.
I was made of nothing except my grief, held together by misery and the battle to remember all of him.
It’d only been a few months, and he was already fading from my mind, the shape of his voice becoming a blur in my brain.
It scared me, badly.
I stomped out of the stadium, ignoring all the happy families surrounding me, my hands shaking. So many grandparents and pictures being taken and flower bouquets getting smushed in hugs and siblings wearing Blackpine t-shirts.
It made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to scream at all of them.
I stormed away from the crowds, trying to get off campus as quickly as possible, but there were people everywhere. Clogging up crosswalks, staring stupidly at all the class buildings, taking it all in. I was so bitter I could taste it on my tongue.
How could they be so happy when my entire life had fallen apart?
How could the world keep moving without him?
I will never be happy again.
I speed walked to the bus stop with my hat and diploma tucked under my arm, tightly gripping my phone and bundled earbuds in my other hand.
The bus was thirty five minutes late by the time it finally pulled up, but I’d never put in my earbuds or anything. I’d just been sitting here, angry. My diploma was on the bench next to me and I considered leaving it there for a brief second, before snatching it and climbing onto the bus.
A few people looked up at me as I took my seat, but not one of them said anything to me. I’m wearing a fucking robe, holding my hat and diploma, and not one of you people can say congratulations to me?
I sat next to the window and stared out through the glass, watching campus transform into a smear of shadow and light.
Sudden panic made my eyes wide, and I stared up at the driver.
There would be no reason for me to ever be on campus again after this.
How long would my student ID keep working? Would I still be able to get into Stanton after today?
I could come back, but I couldn’t come back.
I anxiously grabbed the plastic cord to request a stop and tugged it. The driver looked up into the convex mirror above her head, probably irritated with me, but she didn’t say anything. I hoped she would let me get off before we got to the next bus stop just outside campus, but she didn’t.
When we finally rolled to a stop, I sprung out of my seat and stumbled to the exit.
I have to go back just once.
“Hey,” the driver said, catching my attention just as I stepped off. “The busses aren’t going to be running through campus again until this evening. There’s a parade.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
The doors swung shut and the bus rolled away.
A parade.
Vaguely, I remembered hearing about that, but I hadn’t expected to be on campus when it occurred.
It wasn’t a thought in my mind for long, though.
I walked purposefully towards Stanton Hall, never stopping or slowing when people were in my way.
I could tell a few people were irritated with me for bumping into them, but they should’ve gotten out of the way.
I yanked one of the heavy doors open and went straight into the stairwell, jogging up all six flights of stairs to the top floor where Micah’s office was.
I burst out of the stairwell into the light, ignoring the few groups of students who were sitting and chatting at the tables, looking out over campus.
They were probably reminiscing. I had nothing to reminisce on.
I walked quickly through the area with the elevators, turning the corner into the hall and walking to the end where Micah’s office was.
The plaque with his name on it was gone. There was nothing on the wall in its place.
I tried the door to the office—locked.
Fuck everyone at this entire fucking university. None of you deserved him.
I wasn’t good at making myself invisible, but I tried my best. The cold, prickly sensation always distracted me and that was exactly what I didn’t need—distraction. I had to be completely focused to do almost anything Sigeian. It was actually really fucking hard.