The Cannibals
Page 12
Wally organized a walkout and the whole senior class left the building at 11 A.M., vowing to remain on the front lawn by the flagpole until the administration considered our demands.
I phoned the newspapers and the TV stations and they sent out reporters.
Talk about democracy in action! It was thrilling!
One of the Audiovisual Club guys whose name I can never remember gave Wally a portable microphone. He stood on the steps where everyone could see him and gave a speech. He said, “It’s not important how people look. What matters is who they are.” The crowd went wild and Principal Brown looked sick and Dean Schmitz told everyone to go inside and eat their lunches. But we wouldn’t. Then two of the school board members drove up and I led the crowd in a cheer: “Give me an M! Give me an I! Now double it! What’s that spell?” et cetera. The students roared and Mimi looked grateful; then the adults went inside to discuss the situation.
By the time they came back out, we were all getting pretty hungry, but it was worth it. Principal Brown announced that Mimi can be the valedictorian after all, as long as she keeps her mortarboard on her head!
The crowd clapped and cheered. Then a bunch of us went up and thanked Principal Brown and Dean Schmitz and the school board members, and shook their hands.
All in all, it was a very emotional and exciting morning!
But now the moment has come when I must put my maturity to the supreme test, and sit, all alone, in the audience, by myself, while my friends cross the stage to receive their diplomas, passing through the portal from childhood to adulthood.
On top of that, I’ve got cramps. Drat.
My parents wanted to accompany me to the graduation ceremony but I told them no, this was something I had to do alone. There were tears in their eyes as I left the house in my beautiful new pale-pink gown and matching shoes, my hair freshly trimmed and washed and tumbling down my back, brushed until it crackled with sparks.
But as I drove toward the campus, my heart started sinking, and I couldn’t help thinking, Isn’t it funny how things turn out? So different than you ever thought they would. I guess that’s what makes life so interesting and suspenseful.
It’s funny how things turn out.
People stared at me as I took my seat in the packed auditorium—not only because I was the only person in the audience wearing an evening gown, but because a lot of them knew who I was and why I wasn’t sitting on the stage with my classmates.
I returned their pitying looks with brave smiles, but deep down inside, it really bugged me. It was like getting a bunch of condolence cards that read, “Too bad you forgot to graduate,” or “Sorry you’re such a dope.”
Had coming to the ceremony been a terrible mistake? What if I jumped up and ran out crying when the choir began to sing “O Dolphins, Leap High”?
I couldn’t, I simply wouldn’t, let that happen. I was not going to spoil this evening for my friends—even if I had to put on the biggest act of my entire life!
“Dear God,” I whispered, “give me strength. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, but please don’t let me run out of here screaming, Amen.”
I had a few bad moments when the ceremony started and The Girls—my Girls!—led the official school cheer without me. But I swallowed the lump in my throat and felt proud of them—it’s not easy to do cartwheels in a graduation gown.
Then Janey Springer played the intro to “O Dolphins” on her oboe and the choir began to sing. And for one horrifying moment I thought I was losing control completely and was going to run out the door!
But God gave me strength and I gripped my chair so hard, I was afraid it would have to be amputated when the ceremony was over.
Then Ashley and Campbell—he never told me he had such a good voice … or maybe he did and I just don’t remember—sang Little Tina’s current hit, “We Are Your Children (So Get Used to It),” and the adults in the audience started crying. Ashley was so nervous she had to stand behind the curtain to sing, so all you could see were her shoes, but she used a mike and her voice carried beautifully.
Could Campbell see me in the crowd? Probably not, but I felt like he was singing just to me.
Then the speeches started and I realized something that I’d never known before: Graduation ceremonies can be very boring! Principal Brown just went on and on and on! Mostly, you couldn’t understand what he was saying because the sound system was so crummy: “Honor bzzddtt integrity bzzddtt paths of life bzzddtt education,” et cetera.
Finally it was time to hand out the awards for academic and athletic achievement.
As the school board members passed out the Certificates of Merit, I felt like I was going to throw up.
Tiffany, get a grip, I scolded myself. You can’t throw up NOW; people will think you’re just jealous, and you’ll ruin the ceremony for everybody else!
Besides, I couldn’t go to the Grad Night party with a bunch of stinky gook on my dress.
“And now,” said Principal Brown, “I’m pleased to introduce this year’s class valedictorian, Miss Mimi Durning. I’m sorry—Ms. Durning.”
The audience buzzed when Mimi walked to the podium. Her scalp was so slick the mortarboard kept slipping, and the spirals on her cheeks appeared freshly inked. But it turns out she’s a really good speaker and the crowd fell silent when she started.
“I want to talk about frogs,” Mimi said.
She said we have no business dissecting frogs or other animals because human beings are animals, too, and it’s our God-given duty—I didn’t know Mimi believed in God!—to respect and protect all living creatures. She said that we must act as responsible stewards for the planet so that our great-grandchildren and their great-grandchildren will honor us for not screwing things up any more than we possibly had to, et cetera.
“What does it profit a man or woman,” Mimi asked, “if he/she gains the whole world but loses his/her soul?”
It was stunning. Even the kids tossing a beach ball around onstage stopped to listen. I felt so inspired by her speech I got goose bumps.
Finally she said, “I know that my classmates are anxious to receive their diplomas—”
“Party!” someone shouted.
“Thank you, Wally,” she said, and the audience chuckled. “But before I conclude, I want to talk about school spirit. I used to think it was a joke. Rah rah sis boom bah and all that. But school spirit can be shown in many ways. For example …”
Suddenly, she whipped off her mortarboard and sailed it across the auditorium like a Frisbee. Painted on Mimi’s gleaming scalp was some kind of ying/yang amoeba type of thing!
The audience gasped, and Dean Schmitz jumped up, looking like he wanted to choke her. Then everybody realized that the thing on Mimi’s head was two entwined dolphins emblazoned in the school colors, black and red!
She waited until the cheering stopped before she continued.
“In closing,” she said, “I would like to recognize someone whose energy, enthusiasm, and tremendous school spirit have played an enormous part on the stage of life and learning we call Hiram Johnson High. Please join me in giving a very special thank-you to Head Yell Leader, Tiffany Spratt. Stand up, Tiffany, so everyone can see you!”
My heart had stopped beating. My body was frozen. All around me, people clapped and called my name. My name!
The students onstage got to their feet—I couldn’t believe it! They were leading the audience in a standing ovation!
I stood, my legs trembling. I was laughing and crying. Applause roared in my ears as I smiled and waved. But I didn’t feel ashamed that everyone could see my tears. Instead, I felt so humble and so grateful.
Because in spite of everything, all my mistakes and flaws, and all of the little problems I’d caused, they were telling me, Don’t worry, Tiff, we love you, with their hands.
I just wish I’d brought my video camera.
About the Author
Cynthia D. Grant has published twelve young adult fiction novels since 1980. I
n 1991 she won the first PEN/Norma Klein Award, for “an emerging voice among American writers of children’s fiction.” Over the years, Grant has received numerous other distinctions. Unfortunately, her Massachusetts upbringing prohibits her from showing off. She lives in the mountains outside Cloverdale, California, and has one husband, Eric Neel; two sons, Morgan Heatley-Grant and Forest Neel-Grant; two cats, Kelsey, an orange tom, and Billie, a barn cat–barracuda mix; and Mike the Wonder Dog, who packs two-hundred-plus pounds of personality into a seven-pound body.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2002 by Cynthia D. Grant
Cover design by Liz Connor
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1355-0
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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