I opened my eyes the next morning, the horrifying events from last night still fresh in my brain. I sit up in my cozy bed with a blank look on my face. I see my new Iphone 6 laying next to me, shattered, with 10 message notifications lighting up. I look down and see my skinny jeans on my legs and my floral pattered shirt hanging off my body from last night. Dazed and confused, I look at the alarm clock. It reads 11:36. Frantically, I bolt up from my ever so comfy bed, grab my phone, and head out the door. My best friend, Ivy, has been calling me nonstop since 8 am, the time at which I was suppose to take my last senior final before graduation. One of the downsides to having your own apartment in the city is not having someone to wake you up after a long, eventful night. I missed it. I missed my final. I missed it because of some stupid guy for some stupid date.

After finally getting coffee in my system, I rush to my professor’s office. He has to let me take it again, its my senior final, a day before i graduate. He can not let me take it. I needed something, an excuse, a good excuse. Let’s start off with the context clues. I am currently wearing my outfit from last night, my hair is un a bun on top of my head, and my makeup is all over my face. That’s it! Makeup on my face means I could have been crying. But why? Why was I crying?

After the long walk of almost shame, i reach my professor’s office. I knock on the door and slowly step in. My heart is beating out of my chest, he knows, he knows why I did not show up. “Anne, you feeling okay? I’m glad you came to see me.” I stutter, “hi-i-i-i Mr. Sm-m-ith. I have some bad news.” And here it comes, the most lying I have ever done in my whole entire life.

“I was studying for my finals last nigh and i got a call from my mother saying my grandma was in the hospital because she has had a stroke. I couldn’t make it to class today because I was on the train coming back from the suburbs to downtown. I am so sorry I missed the final but I need to graduate tomorrow.”

He stares, skeptical of the story I made up on the walk over here. “And how is your grandmother?’’ He asks. “She unfortunately passed away last night.” His eyes lit up. “I am terribly sorry Anne. As long as you can get me the Death Certificate, I will excuse the final and you will graduate.” I say thanks you and run out of the room.