“No, he couldn’t make it.”

Mort sniffed. “Well, Mr. Dunphy, since your family couldn’t attend the festivities on this hallowed occasion then I’m sure you won’t mind going to the parking lot and directing traffic for the proud parents who could attend.”

I shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll make my way down there after breakfast.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Now.”

Three hours later I was out of Cornwall Academy for good. As soon as it was announced that Jonathan Wheeler had been voted “Most Likely to Succeed,” I’d walked out of the chapel, not waiting for the rest of the awards to be presented. We’d already been given our diplomas so Jane followed me out onto the chapel lawn. The bright sun made the grass look absurdly green, like the plastic fuzz in children’s Easter baskets.

The banner was draped between the second floors of the two dorms nearest the chapel. “Free Sirhan Sirhan!” Funderburk was trying to figure out a way to get it down before the chapel emptied. Someone had cemented the dorms’ doorways shut with Krazy Glue.

She glanced back at the chapel and then at me nervously. “Uh … listen, Dunph, we better move away from here before everyone piles out.”

Her father was inside, and the man wanted my ass in a bad way. The school had sent him a letter outlining all of our crimes, and Mr. Weston was liable to pop me in the mouth if he got anywhere near.

“He’s still mad at me?”

“Hates your guts. The guy’s acting like you killed his dog.”

I ran to my room, retrieved two pillow cases full of my stuff, and then Jane escorted me up the main drive leading off campus. We had to walk under the sun-draped banner that Fundy was futilely attempting to reach.

“Good riddance, Mr. Dunphy,” Fundy said.

I nodded and walked past.

Jane and I continued fifteen feet or so and I turned. “Oh, by the way, Fundy, I didn’t really get the hash from Sodani. I got it off Wheeler.”

Fundy looked like a guy who’d won the New York lottery but had burned his ticket. As we walked away, he yelled out, “Persona non grata, Dunphy, persona non grata!”

At the end of campus we stopped and looked at each other. Mrs. Weston would be searching for Jane. Mr. Weston would be searching for me. There were many things I could’ve said, but I just wanted to look at her, to remember. Main thing was that the wounds had been kissed. The scars would always be there I guess, but we were alive and awake and going somewhere. We would end as friends.

“Ain’t you gonna say something funny?” Jane asked.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“That supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s supposed to be sad.”

We held each other.