Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Together.
Always together.
With Asher by my side, I believe we can do anything we set our minds to.
Epilogue
Asher
I pump the keg and dispense another two beers for myself and Lotta. There’s a party up on the mesa to celebrate our send-off. Our age difference makes for an interesting mix of people at the party. It’s mostly my friends–other graduates–but also some of Lotta’s friends, like Olive and Brianna.
Lotta and I leave tomorrow for Los Angeles for her artist in residency.
Last weekend was graduation.
I’m not the kind of guy who ever pictured walking on graduation day with the cap and gown and all that shit.
It’s not something I was working toward. I guess because I wasn’t focused on what came after.
Now that I have an after–an ever after–with Lotta, it feels important.
Lotta was up on the stage today when I picked up my diploma and shook Principal Olsen and Coach Jamison’s hand. My mom and Mrs. Angelson were in the stands crying.
Lotta’s parents were there, too.
It took a little while, but they warmed up to me. And once they did, they were all in. My mom and I were invited to dinner every other week. I think Lotta’s mom was hoping to persuade us to stay in Wolf Ridge. She wants grandpups.
We had it out a couple of weeks ago when it felt like she kept shitting all over Lotta’s artist-in-residency. I told her that her lack of support for Lotta’s art career was disappointing to me, and I hoped she would do better for her grandpups when they came around.
That got her. She burst into tears and apologized to my mate. It was pretty beautiful, actually.
I’m shooting the shit with Seb over the keg when I hear a huge chorus of “Coach!” and I turn in surprise.
Coach never parties with us. He’s very good about keeping the lines clear. He’s not our friend or buddy. He’s an elder who deserves our unwavering respect. So for him to show up to the party is a shock.
Of course, my first assumption is that I’m in trouble.
Lifelong habit, I guess.
“Coach.” I stride forward and shake his hand, then offer him a beer.
To my shock, he takes it.
“No offense, Coach, but what are you doing here?”
Coach tips his head toward Lotta. “Your mate asked me to come and say a few words.”
I stare at Lotta blankly. “She did?”
Lotta slides up behind me, wrapping her slender arms around my waist. “C’mere, beautiful.” I tug her around to my side, so I can loop an arm around her. “What is this about?”
“I asked Coach Jamison here tonight because I know how much his mentorship has meant to you. And we’re going to do something.”
“Do something?” I ask blankly.
“Yep.” I see a happy secret in Lotta’s expression, and it feels like I’m being lifted by a thousand helium balloons, my weight growing lighter and lighter until I’m surprised my feet still touch the earth.
It’s everything to see her so easy. So happy. That tortured artist look has been replaced by free-spiritedness.
“Coach Jamison, will you get everyone’s attention?”
Coach lifts his thumb and middle finger to his mouth and whistles loud enough to make everyone stop talking.
Lotta waves a hand in the air. “Hey everyone,” she calls out.
I lift her up by the waist and carry her to stand on a boulder to give her the height she lacks. “Thank you all for coming out to see us off tonight. I wanted to say a few words before we go.”
Our friends smile and raise their cups.
“Leaving Wolf Ridge can be hard. We’re pack animals. Our survival is baked around community. You probably know that less than twenty percent of Wolf Ridge grads leave and probably half of those are human. Leaving my pack and my kind was hard for me. My parents didn’t want me to go. They tried to block me from leaving by withdrawing all financial support, so when I left, it felt more like a jailbreak than a graduation.”
Our friends laugh.
“I didn’t want that for Asher. I don’t expect it will be, though. In a way, he’s been without pack, or on the wrong side of the pack, since his father’s banishment.”
I wince hearing it spoken out loud, so publicly. But there’s something freeing about it, too. The shame I carried all those years is being aired out under the pine trees. My close friends–Abe, Markley, J.J. and Seb, will still be my friends. They always have been. And I don’t care about the rest of them.
“That’s why I invited you all to contribute to his send-off. So he’d be leaving on the wings of the pack, not fleeing in the night, like I did.”
I look around, still not getting it. But that’s when I see J.J. walking around with a shoebox, holding it out for people to throw envelopes in.