“Why,” I demand, “do I have to go to stupid graduation?”

The weeks now are a hazy fog of metallic sounds in my earphones, memorizing bits of unimportant information that I will forget the minute I am out of the small exam room, Miss Symons’s friendly help, and exhaustion.

So, so tired; I never thought I could be so tired and still function. My friends are having the time of their lives, sleeping over with other girls, pretending to read textbooks while consuming piles of nosh… Nechami just did her third “study night” this week. I know for a fact she hasn’t studied for even 60 seconds.

I cannot afford that. I am fighting for survival here. I can pass, but if I neglect to listen to every section of the study guide, I will fail. I can’t skim over the page the night before and then just turn up at the test and jot down whatever I remember from that read. I really have to work hard.

I feel like I’m in a whirlwind. But then, just as I forget what my name is, and why I am here, it’s over.

Just like that.

It’s 10 a.m., and my mother is in my bedroom trying to wake me up.

“Shulamis!”

“Go away,” I mumble, without looking up to see who it is. “I don’t have to go to school!”

“It’s graduation day.” My mother doesn’t know what “give up” means. “You have to go!”

Graduation…

My fuzzy brain processes the information slowly. Graduation?

Oh. The ceremony where happy students wear caps and gowns and get their diplomas from smiling faculty members and, after the parents leave, they shriek and cry and take pictures until the janitor comes to kick them out and ends up locking the gates on a bunch of teary eyed friends… Oh.

Not my type, I decide, turn to the other side, and continue to sleep.