Page 20 of Sam & Justin (Gomillion High Reunion #4)

“Nope. You’re not going to argue on this one,” she scolded. “You need to be able to collect signatures, and you can’t do that if you’re sitting behind a table making sure everyone else has what they need to have fun.”

“But I said—”

“No,” she repeated, her voice firmer. “You are going to get your yearbook from one of our student volunteers, and then you are going to enjoy one part of this event without any responsibilities. I opened my mouth to argue, to point out that I’d just had the basketball game and lunch without responsibilities.

I didn’t get a sound out before Vanessa clapped her hand over my mouth. “I think you can find your line.”

I recognized a losing battle when I saw one and sighed. Vanessa, recognizing my defeat, dropped her hand from my mouth.

“Am I still allowed to help set up prom?”

Vanessa nodded, her eyes growing wide. “Yes.” She paused.

“Oh god, yes. You have to help with that, because we may have overstretched on the vision, and I’d need about triple the amount of student volunteers to do that without your organizational prowess.

” I felt my cheeks warm. “Besides, you’re the only one that knows where half this shit is supposed to go. ”

That made more sense. I started to straighten some of the gel pens she’d laid out, and Vanessa allowed that.

I was almost afraid she’d rap me across the knuckles and give me another tongue lashing for the attempt to help.

A few minutes later, she clapped her hands together and the students who were gathered around, playing on their phones, immediately took their places behind the table.

Within minutes, people began rounding the building, still talking about their lunches.

I spotted a few Styrofoam containers, leftovers from what had been a very successful meal.

Vanessa took over immediately. She directed people into lines, and I got lost in the crowd.

I was shuffled to my line and got my yearbook.

Once I had it, I started to look for Sam.

He was about halfway through his line, and while I wanted to wait for him, I also wanted to start collecting signatures.

I spotted a few of my friends and made my decision.

I would find Sam later. It wasn’t like the crowd was big enough that I’d never see him again, and I was drawn to him like a magnet.

I wouldn’t be able to stay away from him even if I tried.

I made my way toward my friends, and we traded yearbooks.

Before long, we had a large group around us.

We were all passing around the books and regaling each other with tales from the past twenty years.

Some of the stories were things that I’d heard—in person or on social media.

Some of them, primarily from people I’d not kept in great touch with over the years, were completely new.

My cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling.

There was only one thing that could have made it better: Sam.

My eyes sought him out. It didn’t take long to spot him. He was standing off to the side. Alone. Separated from the groups around him.

He wasn’t signing any yearbooks, and no one was signing his.

My heart sank down to my toes, but I wasn’t too surprised.

I had already learned the ways he’d changed since high school, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was too interested in discovering it.

I wanted to go to him, to pull him into my group.

I wanted everyone to see the things that I saw in him, the things that I’d seen in him twenty years ago.

Even back then, I’d known that he had a depth to him that people didn’t see underneath the leather and sneers, hidden away behind clouds of cigarette smoke.

But I kept getting pulled into conversations. Stolen glances were all I could get of him for at least another half hour. Finally, the crowd around me thinned and I was able to make my way to him, still holding the glittery blue pen I’d grabbed from the table that started this whole thing.

“Can I sign your yearbook?” I asked him.

He looked up and smiled again. He looked exhausted.

He hadn’t looked that way when we’d been eating lunch.

How was it that so much had changed in the time since I’d (pointlessly) left to help set up the yearbooks and pictures?

He passed me his yearbook, and even though he’d not asked to return the favor, I handed him mine.

He stared at it like it was a foreign concept. “You want me to sign yours?”

“It wouldn’t be a good picture of my senior year if you didn’t,” I told him, “and it really wouldn’t be a good picture of this reunion without your signature.

” After all, he’d been the best part of the reunion so far, and I doubted that was going to change.

Nothing and no one else appealed to me the way he did.

He nodded and pulled a black pen from his pocket.

I stopped watching him as I opened his yearbook.

There were a few signatures, and I smiled when I saw that Robbie had left an actual note.

The other handful of signatures were just names.

It was easy to find a blank spot to leave him a little message:

Sam,

When I saw your name on the RSVPs for the reunion, I was surprised.

I’d always wondered what happened in your life after you left Gomillion.

I’m so happy I had the chance to catch up to you, to get to know the man you’ve become.

He’s just as amazing as the boy I knew in high school.

Keep in touch. I don’t want to lose contact with you again.

XOXO,

Justin Kirkwood

I closed the yearbook before I passed it to him.

He handed me mine back, and I fought the urge to read what he’d written.

I didn’t want to open it and discover nothing more than his name on a page.

I’d read it later, when I read through the messages everyone else had written. When he was back in King’s Bay.

The thought filled me with dread. I didn’t want tomorrow to come.

It settled over me like a heavy blanket, lingering as we all stood together for a class picture. Even the weight of Sam’s arm around my waist could barely lighten the load or dim the reality of the fact that I did not want to lose him again.