It culminated last weekend in one frantic shopping spree at Wal-Mart.

Like women possessed, moms Joey Hernandez and Dee Griffin hit the discount chain at 3 a.m. the morning before graduation, rolling up and down the aisles with carts, zooming around the employees stocking the shelves, trying to decide what kinds of prizes to buy with their $3,000 of leftover money.

Other parents have thanked them for their dedication, but Hernandez admits they must be crazy.

Chiante Keliikoa, 18, dances to the band, Hot Rain, at the Queen Kapiolani Hotel with other Wai‘anae High School graduates. Fellow graduate Wesley Roe was there — as the keyboardist for Hot Rain. “I was so excited,” he said.

The Department of Education estimates that $1.2 million is raised for Project Graduation, making it one of the largest school fund-raisers of the year.

The goal of Project Graduation is simple: Keep Hawai'i's young people alive during what has proved to be a deadly time in years past.

The parties aim to do that by combatting the connection between high school graduation, a milestone that holds particular social significance, and alcohol.

Ashley Tabion, 18, naps at the Hawaiian Adventures Water Park early in the morning as her fellow Leilehua High graduates party on in the wee hours.

Project Graduation started at Roosevelt High School in 1990. Last year, more than 60 percent of the state's graduates participated in the all-night parties, and this year the DOE hopes the number will come closer to 70 percent.

The events, held nationwide, are most often organized by parents, whose main concern is to keep their children off the roads. More people ages 16 through 20 are injured or killed between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. during graduation season than at any other time of year.

Yvonne Nelson, Mothers Against Drunk Driving Hawai'i chairwoman, said the Project Graduation parties are an important way to prevent drunk driving accidents, but aren't the only answer.

Brenden Burson, a Kaiser High graduate, dons his 2003 glasses.

Too often, the parties have gone from triumph to tragedy.

John Siofele, a Saint Louis School star athlete, top-notch student, and University of Hawai'i football recruit, died last July when his car struck a city bus. He had a blood-alcohol level of .142, well above the .08 legal limit, according to the city medical examiner, and had been at a graduation party.

In 1996, David Keo, a Kahuku High football star, died in a crash after a weekend round of summer parties celebrating graduation.

But parents say that at least on this one night of the year they are making sure that most teens are sequestered, safe and off the roads.

Jessica Takahashi, 18, was sent on her way to Project Graduation with a hug from her aunt, Janet Shimokawa, after getting her Kaiser High School degree in ceremonies at the football field in Hawai‘i Kai. Jessica had no idea where the night would take her.

"We think of it as a traffic safety measure for the community," said Jan Meeker, a DOE resource teacher who coordinates the Project Graduation program. "The parents sell it to their seniors as their very first class reunion or as the last time that they all get to be together."

As participation in Project Graduation has grown, so have the size, scope and price of the parties. Two years ago, 75 Waialua High graduates flew to Disneyland. Last weekend, Campbell High graduates in one night managed to take in boxcar racing, the water park, laser tag and a sunrise sail. It costs $10,000 to buy out Dave and Busters after hours, and this year the DOE said nine schools planned to hold their parties there. Some schools are able to raise upward of $40,000 to $50,000 for the event.

Graduation day for most was as memorable as graduation night on the town. Kaiser High graduate Dayne Uchiyama, 17, shares a post-graduation-ceremony moment with brother Drew, 8, at the school’s football field in Hawai‘i Kai before joining classmates on the bus ride to who-knew-where (Japanese Cultural Center) for nightlong revelry.

Across the island, Leilehua graduate Jocelyn Villegas, 18, agrees.

"It's fun. You get to do a variety of different things," Villegas said. "Prom is just sitting and talking and dancing."

To foot the bill, parents sell cookbooks, run car washes and organize garage sales. They run concession stands at Aloha Stadium. Every kind of food imaginable gets sold in the name of Project Graduation: chicken, kalua pork, mochi ice cream, candy and baked goods.

The planning starts early; parents of next year's senior class at Kaiser High sold lei and balloons at this year's graduation.

The planning also continues up until the last minute, creating a sleep-deprived marathon for parent coordinators.

Rudy Salazar, a parent volunteer, guides Kaiser High School graduates off one of four buses chartered to carry the Class of 2003 to the Japanese Cultural Center. Each graduate was color-coded to a bus, in part to eliminate party-crashers.

Joey Hernandez is purchasing so many items that cashiers can't ring it all up in one sale. After a few rounds of $1,000-plus credit card charges, Hernandez's credit card company halts the spending spree.

"I'm sure they thought it had been stolen and that someone was going crazy in Wal-Mart," she said.

Dee Griffin's credit card took over to complete the sales, but her credit card company called later that morning.

8:58 p.m. Friday
Kaiser High School

The commencement ceremony started at 6:30 p.m., but by now, the pomp and circumstance is fading to memory.

Graduates have discarded their caps and gowns and head toward the cafeteria to check into Project Graduation. Their family members walk back down Lunalilo Home Road, arms laden with lei and carrying signs with their child's name in glitter. A work crew disassembles the giant "Kaiser High School 2003" plywood sign on the athletic field.

At the Queen Kapiolani Hotel, Wai‘anae High graduate Linda Siu, 17, gets a makeover from Shannon Watson, a cosmetologist for Fantastic Sam’s. A few hours later Linda was on her way to watch sunset at sea..

"They asked us what our interests are. That's all we know," said Karen Chang, 18.

One of the biggest trends for Project Graduation is to keep everything a secret from students. Parents say this makes it more exciting for the graduates and helps prevent unauthorized people from crashing the parties.

Meeker, who organizes Project Graduation meetings where public and private school parents can swap tips and ideas, has found that parents are becoming more tight-lipped. They don't even like to tell her where they're going. "I'll get a fax and it will be marked confidential all over the place," she said.

Chang and her friends speculate on what they will find at the other end of a charter bus ride. Rock climbing? Prizes? Bungee jumping?

No one knows what to expect, other than that it probably will be good.

"The parents that are planning this one planned it two years ago," said Meghan Chin, 18. "We're expecting this to be one of the better years."

10:02 p.m.

The four Kaiser charter buses drive to the place parents call Mystery Location No. 1, otherwise known as the Japanese Cultural Center.

David Pereira, 17, and Jason Yoon, 17, of Kaiser, graduated to the world of sumo at the Japanese Cultural Center.

Later in the night, a hypnotist casts his spell over the Kaiser crowd, and they're mesmerized by a magician.

Midnight

As his Wai'anae High School classmates are dancing, having their hair fixed, choosing airbrush tattoos and making their own luggage tags, Wesley Roe, 18, keyboardist for the band Hot Rain, wraps up the last song of his gig.

Leilehua High’s post-graduation plan offered Martin Harrie, 18, not only a slide down the Volcano Express at Hawaiian Adventures Water Park, but also karaoke, music videos, food and extreme games. Parents tricked the class into thinking arrangements at Ko Olina had been fouled.

Roe planned to skip Project Graduation to play a mystery gig in Waikiki. But at the last minute, his mother told him that the band had another keyboardist for the night and he could join his classmates. He rode the charter buses into town with fellow graduates.

The trick was on Roe.

"I was so excited," Roe said. "This is my class, too, so I feel really good." Performing in front of all of his friends, which Roe had never done before, capped off his graduation night.

At 3:30 a.m., the group of 150 Wai'anae graduates leaves the hotel for a sunrise cruise on the Star of Honolulu.

Leilehua High karaoke stars Jamie Hernandez, 18; Katherine Van Dyke, 17, and Pearline Lucena, 17, from left, sing into the night.

Leilehua High parents guard the sidewalks at Hawaiian Waters Adventure Park — graduates are busy going down waterslides, bouncing in the wave pool and rockclimbing in a field — to ensure no one sneaks off into the privacy of the dark, grassy corners.

On the night of the parties, parents, who have carefully orchestrated fund-raising for more than a year, are even more organized. They carry cell phones, hold walkie talkies and wear matching shirts.

They also go to extremes to make sure no one sneaks into or out of their party. For Kaiser High, students are organized into four color groups — yellow, blue, green and orange — to board their four chartered tour buses, and wear matching wrist bands and lanyards with identification cards dangling. Wai'anae High has stationed parents at hotel escalators to make sure kids can't leave or enter.

3:36 a.m.

The Sand Man caught up with Kaiser High’s David Pereira at Sandy Beach after a long night at the Japanese Cultural Center, dancing, eating and playing all sorts of games.

Plus, parents had played a trick on the graduates, driving them all the way out to Ko Olina, getting out and acting like they were checking the group into a hotel, and then announcing that the reservations had been lost and the party would have to happen at the high school instead.

3:55 a.m.

The stress of graduation catches up with many students during the night. Natacia Kiilau, 18, says she has been too nervous about the ceremony to sleep lately. By the time the actual event arrived, she was exhausted.

"My strategy has been to pretty much sleep as much as I can," Kiilau admitted, taking a very short break from a nap to make sure her friends were still sleeping next to her.

5:30 a.m.
Sandy Beach

BY THE NUMBERS

The officer says it has been a quiet night on the roads.

The effect of Project Graduation, however, cannot be measured.

"Drunk driving is just a difficult problem to solve," said MADD's Nelson. "One thing that's immeasurable is the number of lives we save."

Last month, the governor signed a new law that holds adults financially responsible if they have provided or purchased alcohol for an underage person. It also makes it a misdemeanor for an adult to give alcohol to minors.

MADD and law enforcement officials hope the law will deter parents from providing alcohol to their children, a lesson that is an indirect message of Project Graduation.

"It gets the parents involved," Nelson said. "I think it's almost as important to send the message to the parents as the kids because look at where are they getting the alcohol."

5:50 a.m.

The sky has moved from black to indigo to red, pink and orange as students wait to watch the sunrise.

When a sliver of the sun pokes above the cloudline, a few students cheer. Others blow soap bubbles.

Kanoe Cazimero, 18, sits on a curb with some friends. They are all quiet, tired and squinting into the horizon.

"I thought it was exciting," Cazimero said. "Only now it hit me that I graduated. I was sitting here watching the sky light up and watching everybody else and I got goosebumps. I'm going to miss school."

She remembers feeling scared the first day of high school. Graduating feels a little bit like that, she said. "Right now I'm sitting here thinking, 'Now what?' School's over. What am I going to do with my life now?"

But with a bus ride back to school, more prize giveaways, a continental breakfast with everyone's parents and a family graduation party at home yet to come, Cazimero decides she is happy right now to simply watch the new day arrive.

Planning for the future, she decides, can wait until Monday.