I’m sorry for interrupting you with my presence. Again. I’m just wondering if you could have my back on this one. I had a massive chin zit three weeks ago and a period stain you could see from space, and also they ran out of tacos on Tuesday, in addition to all the shit that’s already happened to me this month. I’m not blaming you for any of these things, but if you could just like show up for me during my last English class so I can graduate and like achieve my potential or something, I’d greatly appreciate it.

It’s a tradition at the Gill School that on the last day of school seniors get to go uniform-free. On this fateful culminating day that it’s finally happening to us, the weather is unseasonably warm, like climate change is breathing all over us. Abigail, Hilary, and I opt to wear the shortest jean skirts we own. It’s a bit of a screw-you to all the years we had to do the knee-length nunnery getup, but I’m a little concerned I’m gonna have a pube slip.

It’s a day that’s full of lasts: the last lunch, the last time I poop in the second-floor bathroom during Calc, the last time I take anything from my locker, which happens to be a mighty tuna fish sandwich reeking of life past its expiration date. Every hallway is full of a loud giddiness, then occasionally some squealing that turns into tears. Most of the day actually feels like a show I’m watching; the characters’ lives are progressing, and they’re finally getting everything they want! But as the episode winds down, I remember I’m still where I started, but with a fresh drool stain on my person.

“Holy shit, last class ever,” Abigail says as we walk into English with our arms linked, my knee-high combat boots in sync with her platform wedges.

“Amen, hallelujah.”

We sit down in our usual spot for the last time that it’s ours. Beyond us the hallway is loud and muggy. I have a feeling it can’t wait to get rid of us seniors so it can have some peace and quiet.

“Last day, last day, last day,” Jared chants as he walks through the doorway. The rest of the class trickles in behind him with the sound of the bell. I think today we deserve a trumpet.

“Yes, seniors, this is it,” Evelyn says, standing in front of us and admiring our various last-day-of-school looks: sunglasses on backward, shirts tied with hair-elastics because real crop-tops aren’t allowed, even on the last day. “Here you are in your final class before you head out to parts unknown. I know you’re eager to discuss the newfound responsibility accompanying this freedom, but we’ll save that for prom.” She grins and rubs her hands together. “Won’t you want to take a break from the dance floor and hang out with your supercool teacher while continuing to ponder the meaning of life?” The only sound in the room is the two flies getting it on in the corner windowsill. “Come on, guys, I’m messing around! Let’s have a little fun!”