From What I Remember (48 page)

“Anyone care to explain?” Alvarez asks.

I’m groping for something helpful to say, because that’s what I do; I’m the good girl who plays by the rules, the teacher’s pet. I’m about to apologize and prostrate myself in front of Alvarez and my whole class in the vain hope that it will somehow wipe away the stink of the current situation, when I hear my name being called.

I turn and see Jake, his head above the sea of faces. He’s climbed up on his chair and is waving both his arms in the air, yelling out my name. Just seeing his face and hearing his voice gives me an incredible rush of happiness. Mom and Dad stand up, flanking him. They wave to me. They may be pissed, but they’re keeping it under the hood, and I’m grateful. I decide to forget about Alvarez. Screw it. I’m tired of being the good girl. I rush toward Jake.

Before I can get to him, he leaps off his chair and runs toward me at full speed. He comes at me so fast, I go down, with him landing on top of me.

“Kylie, you made it,” Jake says.

“Of course I made it, Jakie. You didn’t think I’d miss my own graduation?”

“You’re sixteen minutes late.”

“I know. I wish I’d gotten here on time.”

“I missed you, Kylie.”

“I missed you too, Jakie. Were you okay last night?”

“Yeah. Dad and I went for pizza.”

“Dad?” I say, though I’m less surprised than I would have been two days ago. I know there’s more to Dad than meets the eye.

Headmaster Alvarez approaches. “Kylie, you might have this little family reunion some other time. We’ve got five hundred people waiting.”

“Right,” I say.

He hands me a cap and robe. “You’re going to need this.”

“Thanks.” I throw it all on, take my computer out of my backpack, hand the backpack to Jake, and make my way to the stage with Alvarez.

This is it. My speech. The biggest moment of my life. Shit.

I’m just going to read it as fast as I can and then get off the stage. One speech, one day, who cares? One speech, one day, who cares? That’s my mantra and I’m sticking with it, in an attempt to push out all the bad juju that’s forming.

Will rushes up to me and falls in step beside me.

“How we doin’?” Will asks.

“No comment.”

“Shut up. You’re going to blow everyone away.”

“No comment,” I say again, because I seriously don’t even know what to tell Will. I love him for trying to boost me up when I need it most, but I don’t want to tell him how hopeless the whole endeavor is.

Alvarez, Will, and I stop at the stage. Will takes both my hands in his.

“‘I don’t wanna kill anybody. But if I gotta get out that door, and you’re standing in my way, one way or the other—’”

“‘—you’re gettin’ outta my way,’” I say, finishing the line from
Reservoir Dogs
.

“Get up there and kill it,” Will says, hugging me. “You look smokin’. And you just spent the night with Max Langston. Own it.”

“’Kay, I’ll try,” I say, wishing I had Will’s attitude instead of my own wilting faith in things.

As Alvarez and I head toward the stage, Lily and Charlie, robes and caps on, rush by en route to their seats. Max is behind them. He pauses. Our eyes meet. And in one look, in that single moment, I realize that last night meant something to him. What, I’m not exactly sure, and I don’t have time to contemplate it as Alvarez guides me to the lectern.

And then, here I am. On the stage. All alone. Hundreds of people look up at me, waiting. Here goes nothing.…

I place my computer on the lectern and look down at the speech. I take a deep breath, tuck my curls behind my ears, lick my lips, open and shut my eyes once, twice. I’m buying time, but it’s not cheap. I’m paying a stiff price.

I hear the crowd shifting in their seats. I’m already losing them. I will myself to jump in. Say it. Read what I’ve written. No one cares. It’s one day, one speech. It doesn’t matter. I look up and out at the crowd. I see Lacey Garson lean over and whisper something to Sonia Smithson. Sonia rolls her eyes and laughs. Okay, I cannot just stand here any longer. I have to do something.

“Golda Meir once said, ‘Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement.’ Today is the day we create ourselves. The decisions we make from now on will impact the rest of our lives, other people’s lives, the world. Every generation is handed the torch…”

My voice fades. I’m not feeling this at all. It’s not what I want to say. It may only be one day and it may not matter to anyone else, but I’ve got to say something meaningful to me, or die trying. Otherwise, what’s the point?

I glance up from the computer screen and, somehow, miraculously, in the crowd, my eyes find Max. He’s looking right at me, which I suppose is to be expected. Everyone is looking at me. I’m the valedictorian speaker and I’ve stopped speaking. It’s not normal. But then again, people expect that from me. Crazy Kylie, living up to my reputation. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be to them, but I want to be more, if not for them, then for me, Jake, Mom, and Dad. I want to prove that what I’m made of is more interesting than crazy and brainy.

Max’s focus hasn’t swayed from the stage. As everyone around him starts whispering among themselves, wondering what the hell I’m doing, his eyes remain on me. His chin lifts ever so slightly, willing me to go on. He mouths, “You can do it.” And while he may be five hundred feet away, I feel him like he’s standing next to me. My face flushes. A shudder pulses through me. I want to be in his arms. I love him. I hate him. He’s a prince. An asshole. My soul mate. The bane of my existence. Shit. This is no time to try to work through this.

I look at Max. He’s right. I
can
do this, provided I haven’t lost the crowd at this point. I have plenty to say even though none of it is in my carefully crafted speech. The murmur from the crowd builds to a low roar. I can see Alvarez getting up from his seat and walking toward me. He’s ready to shut me down. No need, dude, I’m on it.

I clear my throat into the microphone. The noise dies down.

Okay, let’s do this.

“That was the beginning of the speech I had prepared for today. I spent the past three months writing it. You might have really liked it. The problem is, I didn’t. It was full of pithy quotes from brilliant people and sage advice I’d gleaned from books, but it didn’t feel very authentic. It’s stuff I’m supposed to say, not stuff I want to say. The truth is, I don’t have any answers for you today. All I have are questions because, like you, I don’t have a clue what’s ahead for us. I could tell you that the best is yet to come; time and tide wait for no one; you’ll accomplish great things; life is what you make it; we have the power to change the world; do what you love, the rest will follow; individuality is the key to success, blah, blah, blah. But you’ve heard it all before, and if you haven’t, it’ll probably roll right over you. Because, really, what does any of that mean to a high school senior? All you want to do is get out of here and start partying. Am I right?”

A loud roar goes up from the seniors. Headmaster Alvarez has sat down, but he’s perched on the edge of his chair, wavering, wondering if he should get back up and give me the hook.

ylie pauses as people yell out their approval. They weren’t expecting it, but they liked that last line. She looks surprised by the reaction. It’s funny, she’s spent six years hiding away from everyone, and now she’s putting it all out there at the very last possible moment. People think they know her, but they’re about to discover, like me, that they don’t know her at all. “Whoa, girl is losing it,” Carl Krauss says, who’s sitting to my left. “Get ready to watch self-destruction begin. Should be fun.” What an asshole. Jessica Littleton, who’s on my right, laughs at Carl, a little too loud and a little too long. I know she’s just trying to get my attention, but it’s annoying. She’s been trying to get my attention for twelve years.

Whenever we’re alphabetically ordered, it’s Carl, me, and Jessica. This is the last time we’ll be together. Despite the fact that I’m not into either of them, I find myself missing them. Or the idea of them. I mean, it’s all over now, and it suddenly seems really sad. Maybe we’ll all sit together at our twenty-fifth reunion, for old time’s sake. We’ll bring our spouses and kids, we’ll fly in from wherever, pass around our business cards, show photos of the vacation home, the boat. Shit. Will that be me? Is that what I want? I look into the future and I don’t like the scene that’s set there. Kylie’s right: hobbies are for wimps. I don’t want to be the guy who plays golf on the weekends, works my ass off all day in a job I’m not digging, and has to have two martinis every night to dull the pain.

The noise dies down; people are ready for more, but Kylie just stares out at us, quiet. She seems frozen. I hope she’s got a second act. It may have been a good start, but she can’t just leave it there. A few seconds pass, Kylie’s still not revving it up. Damn, what’s happening? Is she backing down? I have to stop myself from rushing the stage and walking her out of here. It’s the wrong plan—she wouldn’t want it and it wouldn’t do any good. I just have to hope she can pull it together and continue. I’m breathing hard, like I’m right up there on the stage with her. I know Kylie can do this.
Think, think,
I try to convey to her even though she’s not looking my way.
You know what you want to say, Kylie. Don’t give up.

People are getting impatient. Someone throws a paper airplane, made from a program, at Kylie. It lands at her feet.

“Why’d she stop talking?” Carl asks.

“Maybe she remembered what a loser she is and that no one cares what she has to say,” Jessica says.

Carl and Jessica bump fists. I feel my face getting hot.

“Shut up,” I say. “She’s not a loser. She’s way cool. So don’t talk shit about her.”

Jessica and Carl look at me like I’ve sprouted horns. And maybe I have. I don’t know why I care so freaking much about this girl. It certainly doesn’t seem like she feels the same way about me.

“What’s it matter to you what we say about Crazy Kylie?” Carl asks.

“It just does, dude. So don’t say it. And she’s not crazy.”

“’Kay,” Carl says. He shuts up and turns away.

He may have gotten a soccer scholarship to UCSB, but he’s still a douche bag, and he doesn’t want to get on my bad side before Charlie’s party tonight.

Alvarez is freaking out. He must be wondering how this could be happening to him. Kylie Flores seemed like the surest thing ever as valedictorian. Who would think she’d go off the rails now? Alvarez stands and approaches Kylie. Is he going to walk her off the stage? But just as he gets to her, Kylie leans in to the microphone.

“I’ve spent the past six years at Freiburg working incredibly hard. And I did well. Super well in school. Better than all of you. I mean, I’m standing here, and you’re not, so I must have done something right. I certainly did everything I was supposed to do. And more. I never got a B, I aced my SATs, and got a full ride to a top college, but I spent all of my time at Freiburg in the library, not talking to anyone. I’m not sure that was the best way to go. When you over-prepare and micromanage everything, there’s no time for spontaneity. No time for life to play out. Life is something we have to experience, really feel, not just study for with books in a library. Learning is about so much more than school. If we’re too busy studying, we miss out on the experience. What I’ve only just realized is that I’ve been missing out. And I don’t want to do that anymore!”