Senior Banquet


The Senior Banquet was at the country club south of town. I volunteered to help decorate the dining room, but Chip put me on Obituaries.

Tracie, Electra and I made up humorous descriptions of how everyone in the class would meet their end.

I guess tradition was that one of us would read it to the class at the Banquet, publishing the list as one of the handouts to take home.

I talked to Lisa Lovell and got to record her reading the final versions into a tape we’d play, instead. She sounded very sad, especially when she read lines about ‘a great loss.’

Like, ‘the international pretzel circuit suffered a great loss yesterday, as four-time champion Greg Sweeney’ or ‘the nation mourns this great loss to Frisbee golf.’

On the night of the Banquet, we found that Chip hadn’t made the change because of my wit. Or at least, not just because of my wit.

They surprised us both with a place for Electra at one of the tables. Not just a sylph table next to my plate, either, a whole place was dedicated to her and her alone. A name tag was there, for Jennifer Beatty, since that was the name she’d be graduating under.

And there was a piece of posterboard on the chair at that place. Someone had drawn a parking place just the right size for her carrier. The parking was labeled as ‘reserved for Electra Loudon.’

I was pretty sure that was Chrissy’s handwriting. The name tag was embossed, just like the rest of the class.

I put the carrier on the table and let her walk out, then showed her the parking space before I put the carrier there.

We were seated at the table with one of the class advisors, half of the other Council officers, Chip and Chrissy.

It was a good banquet, lots of laughs, lots of speeches, some goodbyes. Mrs. Reed made a special note about my cheerleading. The knuckledraggers made a special presentation, saying they missed Jennifer’s cheerleading.

After the obituaries, everyone got to stand up and announce their plans for the next year: college, military, weddings.

Quite a few people were going to one or another school in Boise, though Chip and Chrissy both got into U of I. That’s in Moscow, way up in the panhandle. Electra ran to Chrissy’s wrist to hug a goodbye. Silly sylph, they weren’t leaving tomorrow.

I shook Chip’s hand and hugged Chrissy. Only because Electra started it, of course.

I let Electra announce our immediate future. Lots of people cheered, promised to watch the show, promised to stay in touch.

We were the last to leave. Absolutely the last. As it started winding down, Electra hugged the table centerpiece, until literally everyone else left.

I put her down on the floor next to the door and stepped outside. I held the door so she could be the last student of our class to leave the Banquet. She squealed and ran joyfully out the door and over the first step.



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Index

58. Electra’s Swearing Habit

60. Airlines