I can’t believe we made it, that these kids I grew up with are all adults and now about to go out into the world—even if it’s just this small town and not the great big world out there. It’s still change. And most of them look excited, though some look scared, but it’s all happening together.

They don’t really know me, not a huge part of me. But they know I broke my leg when I was ten, on a dare from Kingston, jumping off a barn. They know Oakley’s first kiss was with Alyssa Peterson behind that same barn in seventh grade. They know my dad left, and so did Kennedy’s. We all know so much about each other.

We’re bonded forever.

And I was fooling myself, believing I could leave and never look back, because there are so many memories here.

Good memories.

I take a deep breath, and we toss our hats into the air, cheering and hollering. We’re all greeted by our families and familiar faces. Congratulated by the faculty who’s known us since we were tiny kids.

And then it’s over. We all get into our cars and drive to our homes, to our own individual family parties—although mine is meshed with Kingston’s party at his house.

It’s a surreal feeling.

We’re setting up for the picnic out in the backyard when Mrs. Kingston asks me to go help my mom in the kitchen, and that’s when I find her. Huddled in the corner by the fridge, sobbing quietly. “Mom?” My voice cracks on the question.

She looks up at me, startled and wiping at her wet eyes, trying to play it off as she pushes off the counter. “Hey, sweetie. I was just finishing the potato salad.”

I’m not letting her brush this off. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She forces a smile, but I know it’s not nothing. Something’s wrong.

“What’s going on? Please tell me,” I plead, stepping closer.

Her eyes meet mine, and she wipes at her cheeks again, smearing her mascara. “I don’t want to do this to you today.” She cups my face in her small, soft hands. “I want this to be only your day and a happy day. I’m so, so proud of you, Camden.”

I place one of my hands over one of hers. “I know you are. But you need to tell me what’s going on. It’s okay.”

God, I hope it’s okay.

“I’m pregnant,” she says the absolute last thing I thought she was going to say, and I swear all the blood drains from my face. My hands shake at my sides because she didn’t just say that. She couldn’t have just said what I think she said.

“What?” I barely make the word come out.