Epilogue
The afternoon sun beat down on the football field of East Shore High, turning the sea of graduation caps into a shimmering lake of polyester. The air was thick with the scent of cut grass, expensive floral perfumes, and the collective, frantic sigh of relief from three hundred seniors.
Rodrick Henderson shifted uncomfortably in his gown. He had insisted on wearing his heavy leather boots underneath the graduation robes, and he was fairly certain he was the only person in the ceremony with smudged eyeliner hidden behind sunglasses. As the principal droned on about "thresholds" and "the future," Rodrick’s gaze drifted toward the front row of the honors section.
Roxie George sat perfectly upright, her posture as flawless as ever, though the silver butterfly clip she wore was a deliberate nod to a secret they no longer had to keep. When she turned her head slightly and caught his eye, she didn't give him a formal nod or a regal smile. She stuck her tongue out, just for a second, before turning back to the stage.
Rodrick squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. I’ve got the maps. She’s got the snacks. And Georgie is under strict orders to keep the band’s social media alive while we’re gone."
They made their rounds, saying goodbyes that felt less like endings and more like shedding old skin. Rodrick shared a brief, firm hug with his brother, promising to send a postcard from every dive bar they played. Roxie held Olivia for a long time, whispering promises of FaceTime calls and cool rocks from the desert.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the field, the two of them walked toward the parking lot. The van sat waiting, parked crookedly in the back row. It was packed to the roof with amplifiers, suitcases, and a box of Roxie’s favorite books.
Rodrick opened the passenger door for her. "Ready to be free, Rox?"
Roxie hopped in, kicking off her high heels and letting them drop onto the floorboards. She looked out at the school building one last time—the auditorium where they’d first kissed, the hallways where they’d played their games—and then she looked at the boy with the bass guitar.
"I’ve been ready since the car wash, Rodrick," she said.
Rodrick climbed into the driver's seat, the engine turning over with a familiar, roaring growl that sounded like a challenge to the quiet neighborhood. He shifted into gear and looked at her.
"Where to first?"
Roxie leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek before pointing toward the highway. "West. Until the radio stations change."
As the van pulled out of the East Shore High parking lot, leaving a faint cloud of exhaust and a lifetime of expectations behind, the two of them didn't look back. They were no longer the princess and the outsider, or the secret and the mistake. They were just two people, finally real, driving toward a horizon that was wide open and loud.