Mom had words for us when we returned from the trip. That meant I was on a short leash for a while. The rest of the summer passed without incident, as did my final year in school. I turned nine over the winter and celebrated my fourth year after returning. Though I was unhappy about it, Mom and Dad insisted that I actually attend my graduation. Finishing my last classes did give me something that had been years in the making.

  I had done well over the years. I could probably figure out exactly where the score came from precisely, but decided against it. I wasn’t sure I would return to college in future resets. The amount of experience was pretty good, but the time expenditure and notoriety it brought was something I’d rather avoid in the future. With more money, skating by through homeschooling would be preferable.

  After graduation, I would have enough time to pack my things and return home. There was no need to live out of a hotel for a week—and I imagined that would have been a nightmare with students from all over the world. In my previous life, I’d just gone home and moved on with my life after college. I held no particular attachment to the school then—and that was true now. However, my parents wants to see me take the stage and celebrate the culmination of my education.

  Mom came the night before to rent a room locally while Dad drove in the day of. Because of the festivities, I was required to wear a cap and gown. The only problem was finding one that remotely fit me. Even the smallest size available made me look like a three goblins in a trench coat. The sleeves hung way past my hands, the hem of the gown kept tripping me whenever I walked, and the cap was held on with hopes and prayers.

  “Let’s go,” Mom said early in the morning.

  I followed her and Dad out of the dorm. I lifted my gown to keep from falling onto my face on the walk over. There was a bus to bring us to the stadium on the other side of the mountain. While we could have driven, it was much more convenient to take the bus and not have to walk from the parking lot to the stadium proper.

  In the bus were many other students decked out in the required garb. Most had family and friends with them for the ceremony. I sat in an open seat while Mom and Dad stood in front of me. The bus lurched forward.

  The stadium—which was usually used for football games—was set in a natural bowl-shaped depression between two smaller hills. The stands were built into the hills—and that is where my parents had to sit. In the middle of the field were hundreds of folding chairs. Students were already beginning to fill them. I picked out an open seat in the section meant for business students at the baccalaureate level.

  In front of the folding chairs was a raised platform. Some professors or guests—I couldn’t actually see that far—were milling about on it. The commencement schedule indicated that there would be a few speakers before we’d get a chance to walk. I sat there until ten minutes past nine when the first of the speakers began her speech.

  “I stand here and see several thousand faces looking back at me,” she said. “I remember a time when I was your age—ready to graduate and take on the world. I’m sure you’ve seen how…”

  She talked for nearly twenty minutes before passing the microphone to the next person. By the time it was ten, I was thoroughly bored. I hated sitting around. I hated listening to speeches. Combining the two made me contemplate whether or not it was worth going through this hell just to make my parents happy.

  Finally, the call came over the speakers that we were to line up. I followed the person to my right into the aisle. The line was hundreds long. Each person spoke their name into the microphone and said a couple of words before getting their diploma and handing it off to the next person. I knew this whole process was going to take forever.

  The line inched forward more slowly than the line for a rollercoaster. My gown got stepped on more times than I could count by the people around me all jockeying for position so they could get their diploma and skedaddle. I did my best to fend for myself in the crowd. My small size worked against me. However, my increased stats balanced that out. I was able to keep my position in line and slowly make my way to the stage.

  When I got to the steps leading to the top of the stage, I began to feel nervous. What—if anything—should I say? I knew all eyes would be on me. More attention than the usual graduate because of my age. I would have bet money on the fact that there was at least one reporter waiting in the crowd to get my name and picture for their story about the nine-year-old graduate.

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  I felt the microphone get thrust into my face. I didn’t feel ready. I hesitated before taking it—the man in front of me giving me a look as if to tell me to get a move on. I still hadn’t figured out what to say, so I went with the simplest thing I could to get it over with: my government name.

  “Milton Teller the third,” I said into the microphone.

  My high-pitched voice echoed through the stadium. I could see Mom and Dad cheering me on. I passed the mic to the next graduate in line behind me. I was relieved that it was over with.

  Getting my diploma was a whole other hassle. The line after me split into several shorter lines leading to five tables. Each table was split out so that there was an even split of last names between each. I found the table that had the ‘M’s. Behind were four workers finding and crossing off the names of the people who picked up their diploma tubes. Two sat at each table while two others went back to find the correct tube for the newly graduated student.

  I was thoroughly done with standing by the time I made it to the front of my line.

  “Name?” asked the attendant.

  “Milton Edward Teller the third,” I said.

  “Ah, it’s you,” he said with a smile. “I remember reading the story about you in the school paper. Has it been four years already?”

  “Three, actually,” I said.

  “Even better! You must have been such a great student to be done so quickly.”

  I grunted. I didn’t want to continue the pointless conversation. The helper for the man went to the back while he found my name on the list and crossed it off. The helper returned a minute later with a brown paper tube capped on both ends by white plastic and tape. Hanging from one end was a laminated miniature version of the diploma inside.

  “Congrats on graduating,” the attendant said when he handed me my tube.

  “Thanks.”

  “Next!” he called as soon as I turned to walk away.

  My parents were waiting for me by the exit. I approached them with a smile. As much as I might have wanted to stick around for the party afterwards—if only to check it out—I was glad that we would be going home as soon as a bus came to take us back to the main campus.

  “Great job up there!” Mom said, giving me a hug.

  “So what’ll you do now that you’ve graduated?” Dad asked after he gave me a hug as well.

  “Dunno,” I said. “I haven’t really thought about it too much. Just do questing and learn some skills I guess.”

  “Think about it more,” Mom pushed. “You don’t have to decide today, but you should give it real thought. Maybe have a plan by next week or some ideas to discuss?”

  “Let the kid have some more time,” Dad said. “He just graduated college at nine years old! He deserves some time to unwind before the next thing.”

  “Fine,” Mom said. “Two weeks then.”

  I hated being pushed to figure things out on an immediate timeline. I’d dumped one previous girlfriend for doing that all the time while being oblivious as to how stressful that kind of thing was. I preferred to ruminate over my choices for a while. Solutions tended to come out of nowhere while I was living life which made me glad that Dad stuck up for me.

  “Please don’t argue,” I said, standing between them.

  I knew from past experience that they would use any opportunity to trade barbs if given the chance. They were so much more alike than they wanted to admit.

  “I wasn’t—“ Mom began.

  “We weren’t—“ Dad said at the same time.

  They glared at each other.

  “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s wait for the bus in peace,” I concluded.

  Mom and Dad stood with me in the middle. Two filled buses left before a third came with room for us. We sat together with me again separating them by sitting in between. When we arrived back at the main campus, Dad hopped in his truck and left. Mom was staying another day to help me move back home.

  She left me at my dorm to begin packing up. Though I could have stayed for another couple of weeks, I was anxious to return home. I didn’t have too many things to pack—mostly clothes, a couple lamps, and my laptop. The dorm had been well furnished by the school which kept me from picking up too many unnecessary things that I would now have to pack up and somehow fit in Mom’s car.

  I was done after only an hour or so. I used the rest of the time that day to work on quests and otherwise kick back and relax. While I sat there, I thought about what I wanted to do now that school wasn’t holding me back anymore. I remembered what Grandpa Joe had suggested almost a year ago. The situation with Mom had cooled down enough that getting out to the range with him would be possible. She’d also probably ok me learning some martial arts. Those were a priority and something that I’d already put off for a year. I figured it would be fine to mention it in the car on the way home.

  So that’s what I did the next day.

  “Mom,” I said. “I know you said two weeks, but I know what I want to do next. I haven’t considered how to make money yet, but I know that I need to learn how to fight after what happened last year when I was out hiking with Grandpa Joe.”

  “When you say fighting do you mean martial arts?” She asked.

  “Yeah. And how to shoot.”

  “Why guns?” she asked with a disgusted look. “You know I hate those things. And they’re so dangerous!”

  “Because that’s another way to fight. When the apocalypse comes, don’t you think I should be prepared?”

  “But it’s so far away! Why put yourself through that now?”

  “Why would I wait until the last moment? The longer I train, the better I’ll be when the time comes!”

  “Let me think about it,” she said.

  While that might mean ‘no’ in most circumstances, I understood that she was really telling me that it would take time for her to accept it. She would say yes but not for a few days—I would be proved true the day after I returned home from school.

  “You can learn how to shoot,” she told me. “But only if Grandpa Joe is watching you. I don’t trust anyone else.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said.

  I shot him an email that night to set something up. I also considered which martial arts to learn. The main thing was learning how to fight with weapons moreso than hand-to-hand. Knowing how to fight other humans was worth knowing but not really the point. Monsters would be the true enemy so being able to fight off a bear with a spear was probably the closest thing I would be able to do before then.

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