Chapter Text
The cap was long gone.
Somewhere between the stage and the front lawn, Brooke's navy graduation cap had flown off in a dramatic spin, landing somewhere near the concession stand and never being seen again. She didn't care. She was done. Done with high school. Done with people asking what college she was going to. Done with standardized tests and lunchroom cliques and pretending like everything made sense.
Tonight was for after.
The bonfire blazed in someone's backyard — someone with rich parents and no sense of boundaries. Music pulsed across the lawn. A string of graduation balloons were half-deflated and tied to the fence. Half the senior class was there. Some had already started calling it the "last night before real life." Brooke didn't feel that way. She'd already had plenty of real life.
She was just here for the friends.
And the alcohol.
"Okay," Ava said, holding up the joint between two fingers like she'd just won a prize. "Who's actually doing this with me?"
"Peer pressure," Brooke said, reaching for it. "Disappointing our parents one puff at a time."
Jasmine laughed nervously. "I feel like my mom would sense it instantly."
Lilly was already giggling. "Mine definitely would."
Ava lit it anyway and took a hit, eyes squinting at the sudden burn. "Okay. Weird. Tastes like anxiety and metal."
Brooke took it next. "So... basically how senior year felt."
She inhaled. Coughed. Swore. Then laughed so hard she almost fell into the grass.
The four of them passed it around in a half-circle under the string lights, giggling and whispering and flinching every time someone walked by.
"Okay but seriously," Jasmine said, "what do we even do now?"
"Go to college?" Lilly offered with a smirk.
Brooke and Ava shared a look.
"Nah," Ava said. "I'm working at the bookstore and maybe moving in with my cousin by fall."
Brooke shrugged. "I'm... not doing anything yet. Just breathing. For once."
"You always have plans," Jasmine said, frowning.
"I had plans," Brooke corrected. "Now I have possibilities. Very different vibe."
Lilly nudged her. "You sure your dad's not gonna kill you when he finds out you got high at a party with half the school?"
"He's asleep," Brooke said confidently. "I've been sneaking out since I was fifteen. I'm a professional."
Ava handed her the rest of the joint. "Well, professional, I vote we stay until at least 3. It's our last group thing for a while."
Jasmine and Lilly nodded — softer this time.
They all knew things were about to split.
Some were leaving. Some were staying. Some were jumping into life, while others were still sitting on the edge trying to figure out if the water was safe.
Brooke didn't know where she stood.
She just knew she didn't want this moment to end.
2:56 a.m.
The party had thinned. The music was quieter. Someone was asleep in a hammock. Another guy was throwing up behind the tool shed.
Brooke slipped out through the side gate with her phone dimmed and shoes in her hand. Her heart pounded — not with fear, but with the thrill. That old high. That familiar "can I get away with this?" feeling.
The air smelled like smoke and summer.
Her hoodie was tied around her waist.
She felt twenty feet tall and untouchable.
Until she reached her driveway.
She crept past the porch.
The living room was dark.
Lights off.
No sign of life.
Just a few more steps...
Then—
click.
The porch light came on.
"Don't even try to play dumb."
Brooke froze like a busted raccoon.
Aaron Hotchner stood at the door, arms crossed, utterly unamused.
Next to him?
Emily.
Leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee and a smirk.
"I told you she'd try the back route," Emily said.
Brooke groaned. "Can't you just—congratulate me on graduating first before launching into the interrogation?"
Aaron arched a brow. "You smell like smoke. You're barefoot. And you were two hours past curfew."
Brooke smiled, sheepish. "Yeah, but... I'm not technically grounded anymore."
"You're about to be again."
Emily snorted. "Give her a break. She survived twelve years of school. Let the girl live."
"Yeah, Dad. Let me live."
Aaron sighed. "Get inside. Shower. Then we'll talk."
"Will there be snacks during the talk?"
"No."
Emily leaned closer. "I'll sneak you a Pop-Tart."
Brooke grinned. "Knew I could count on you."
As she stepped inside, socks dirty and head still spinning, Brooke looked around the house — the same one she'd grown up in, rebelled in, recovered in.
It wasn't where she was headed anymore.
But it was still home.
For now.