Page 6 of Stops Along the Way
I laugh. “Putting those graphic design skills to use from day one.”
“I’ll include it on my résumé.”
We sit silently for a few called names as the squeaking of folding chairs grows more and more distant while the rows behind us shuffle through, but they’re still only finishing up theC’s. With over five hundred students, this is going to take ages. It’s getting really warm in this gown.
“Are you still working on your board game?” Peyton asks me.
“Yeah, I finally got it all retooled, but I’m mourning what could have been. Who knew there were already so many games about ancient Rome?”
“Every nerd ever. What’d you end up switching it all to?”
“The Salem witch trials. It’s sort of Mafia-slash-Werewolf meets Carcassonne.”
She attempts to smooth out the wrinkles in her gown. “I’m not clear on how you’re blending those together. Then again, I’m a player, not a creator.”
“You sure you don’t want to submit something?”
“I play to relax, and trying to come up with my own board game sounds like the opposite of relaxing. Plus, I don’t have much spare time. You’re picking up shifts again this summer, right?”
“Of course.” Her family’s restaurant is the only part-time job I ever want to work.
Peyton and I turn forward and make silly faces at our friend Elizabeth Elford, theE’s to ourB’s. She does a cute littlewave while keeping her arms down at her sides, nervously crossing the stage, her carefully curled hair sticking out from under the graduation cap and bouncing off the back of her gown.
“What graduation party should we get to first tonight?” I ask Peyton. There are tons of parties spread out throughout the summer, but a few are competing for attendance later today. “I didn’t really know Stephanie that well, but apparently, her family goes all out.”
Peyton points out a finger for emphasis. “It’s a question of do we want to start thereorend up there.”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. We can see what Elizabeth wants to do. It doesn’t really matter to me, because the best party is in a few weeks.” Peyton gestures to herself, as if I didn’t already know. “The best people, and thebestfood. No promises about music, though, since my brother wants to DJ.”
Her skepticism is understandable. Her brother is eight.
“I can’t wait. It’ll be my light at the end of the tunnel after submitting this board game and taking an unexpected round trip to Pennsylvania.”
Peyton narrows her eyes. “You’re visiting your sister?”
“I didn’t tell you? We’ve got to get Amelia’s car back here from Pennsylvania. My mom floated the idea of flying me out there so I can drive it back with her.”
My sister isn’t in attendance at my ceremony since she has her own finals next week. I insisted it wasn’t a big deal because these graduation things are long and boring, yet today,especially earlier, gathered with my parents and grandparents, it feels weird for Amelia to not be here too.
Like I was there for her graduation.
Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like every aspect of my life is just a follow-up act and that time spent with my sister is entirely at her mercy.
“That is a long trip.” Then Peyton does a silly little dance with her hands as she says in a singsong voice, “But then you’ll have thecar.”
“A necessity,” I agree. My last summer before college, and finally the freedom to drive anywhere I need to go. I join in her dance. “Then I’ll have thecar.”
Chapter Three
No matter how hard I try, this budget board game production is going to look like a child’s school project stuffed inside a shoebox. Because even as I painstakingly Mod Podge the designs I printed on glossy paper at the library onto this cardboard container, I know there’s no hope of this looking like one of the ultra-professional, polished submissions.
I’ll just have to hope my concept is solid enough.
The overall winning board games selected from the individual and team submission categories will get produced by a local publisher, with small cash prizes for the runners-up. Money would obviously be great, but seeing my own creation produced, looking all bright and shiny like arealboard game, would be something else.
I’ve spent all of this Sunday morning glueing the tile piecesonto reinforced cardstock and cutting each out into identical hexagons with a knife when Amelia calls. I nudge my phone screen with the back of my knuckle to answer.
