The Graduation Photo

The air conditioning in the private room, mixed with the scent of food, brushed against my face. I instinctively pulled my sleeve tighter. The glass lazy Susan was piled high with hot dishes, steam swirling up and blurring the smiling faces of my classmates across the table, while sweat broke out on the back of my neck. The tip of my nose caught the sweet scent of Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs, the garlicky aroma of steamed scallops with vermicelli, and the freshly served Spicy Blood Curd Soup—its bold, numbing spice sneaking into my nostrils, making them itch just a little. Today was our university's third graduation reunion, and it was the first time I brought Henry Collins to meet my old classmates. Melody Carter, sitting to my left, was using the serving chopsticks to pick shrimp for me. Her nails were painted with that dusty rose polish I gave her last week — we'd been roommates since freshman year, shared the same bed, and even the same pain patches during cramps; our bond was as tight as twisted steel cables. I remember that winter in our freshman year when I suddenly ran a high fever. She carried me two kilometers to the campus clinic. When we got back, she was shivering from the cold but still made sure to tuck the blanket around me. Back then, I always thought having a friend like her was the luckiest thing in the world. "Want some water?" Henry Collins' voice echoed in my ear. He first twisted open a bottle of bottled water and handed it to me; the cool bottle against my fingertips eased some of the irritation brought on by the stifling heat. Then, he picked up another bottle and casually handed it to Melody Carter. "Melody, that Spicy Blood Curd Soup we just had was pretty hot—here, soothe your throat." The bamboo chopsticks in my hand clattered sharply against the bone dish. The lively chatter and laughter seemed to freeze; over twenty pairs of eyes locked onto us, filled with surprise, curiosity, and a dash of amused anticipation, like watching a drama unfold. That look was like a thousand tiny pins stabbing into me, making me completely uneasy. Melody Carter's hand froze mid-air; the dimples on her face hadn't faded yet, but her smile had already stalled. The silver bracelet on her wrist slid down to her forearm, gleaming coldly in the light. That bracelet was the gift I gave her on her eighteenth birthday. She said back then she'd wear it until we both grew old. "Who told you to give her the water?" My voice felt like it'd been pulled out of a freezer, frozen right down to my tongue. It felt like an unnamed fire was burning inside me, heating up every part of my body. Henry frowned sharply in my eyes. "Mia, what's wrong? Melody's your best friend; it's just handing over a bottle of water." His tone was full of confusion, as if I was just making a big deal over nothing.