“Melody is doing a fine job,” Winston said. “Let her continue. You just relax.”
Melody then awarded the best personality award. When the name of Aaron Ryan was called, the place gasped in state of shock. Winston put his head in his hands. Aaron walked to the podium, took his plaque and said, “Thank you. This means a lot coming from my fellow graduates. Somebody told me I had spoken earlier. I wish I could remember what I said.” He then sat down. Everyone was wondering what was going on.
Next Melody read the name for the class clown. She said, “Elvis McGraw.”
Elvis, who was in the back putting the finishing touches on desserts, quickly dashed toward the stage, in the process grabbing a chef’s hat that was sitting on the counter. He put it on to go with his apron. He went to the stage and said, “Thank you, thank you very much. Now I am zee chef. I am goin’ to cooks you up a beautiful dessert.” He blew kisses to the crowd and returned to his preparation.
The awards continued until the final one, the most likely to succeed. “Mohammed Albani,” Melody said to the shock of most. G may have felt disrespected at times, but at this moment he was overwhelmed. He was respected for his efforts.
He went to the podium, said “Thank you, I am honored,” and sat down, crying.
The banquet ended with no further disruptions. As people left the talk was still of the behavior of Aaron Ryan. Winston ducked any controversy, simply saying, “Boys will be boys. No big deal. Let’s move on.”
Elvis was having fun decorating cupcakes. He gave one to Jose with the outline a penis on top, saying, “I did this one specially for you.” His cupcake for Lamont had an outline for a pair of testicles. “You got the other half,” Elvis told Lamont.
With two weeks left in the school year attention among the seniors turned to final exams, future plans, and the excitement of the last days of their high school careers.
Lamont was the team’s track star with G not far behind. Lamont won the district and regional track meets in the 200 meter run, placed third in the 100, and was the anchor of the winning 4 x 100 meter relay team. Lamont even won points for the team as a long jumper. Along with G, a few standout distance runners and a high placing shot put and discus thrower, the team won the two meets, and was a favorite to win the state title. That meet would be next Saturday, six days before graduation.
Jose turned in his term paper to Ms. Blossom. She was impressed, saying, “Jose you outdid yourself.” Even so, he knew he needed at least a C on the final exam for a C grade for the year. Missy and Elvis helped him complete the final exam study guide. Elvis told him, “Look these guides are just like the tests. If you know the answers, you’ll do fine on the test. Study this until you know it in your sleep. You ain’t got to learn everything in the book…just what’s on those six pages of the study guide.”
Missy and Elvis grilled him constantly for the answers. He complained they were being too tough on him. “Let me tell you about high school,” Elvis told him. “Most of the time the teachers tell you what you need to know for the tests. If you listen and learn that stuff you’ll do fine in school. That’s how I learned to get by. Eighty per-cent of the stuff I forget two days after the test, but I remember it for the one time and move on.”
Jose took the test and scored an 84, a B. He now could graduate. He was so proud he asked Ms. Blossom if he could have the test.
“I can’t,” she told him. “It’s school property, but I can make a copy of the answer sheet and sign it.” She did, writing, “Congratulations, Jose, you did it. Good luck.”
He showed everyone, including his and Missy’s parents. To him it was like the Vince Lombardi trophy. The score also made his term paper points irrelevant, although it helped bring his final grade to a solid C+.
Exams ended one week before their Friday graduation. All that remained was the senior field day, yearbook signing party, the senior send off, graduation day practice and the graduation ceremony, and the senior class would be done for the school year.
Saturday was just another work day for Jose. Helping his father with the bricklaying job had provided money to keep his car running and for gifts and events with Missy. The Mexican kid had worked his way up her personal preference order.
Elvis’s band was playing another weekend set, bringing in more money. Elvis thought now about a new car, as his Jeep was nearing its end. The vehicle was becoming a money pit.
But for Lamont it was the last race of his high school career and chance to go out a champion. It might also be his last chance to earn that scholarship. For Potts, the state meet meant more than usual. It was his chance to go out a champion. He was retiring, win or lose.
For Winston, it was a chance to put an end to another exciting school year. It had started with the school’s nomination for an All American School, and had its ups and downs through the year. With one week to go, retirement had now moved to the front of his mind, although he said nothing, refusing to call attention to himself. He went home that night, took his wife out to dinner and came home and watched Law and Order. This time he didn’t fall asleep and successfully figured out who committed the murder on the show. This time he ate his ice cream cone, caramel core and all, then went to bed. He slept like a contented baby.
In six days, his school would graduate 450 into the real world. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel, no longer an approaching train, but rather the end of this year’s journey. The finish line seemed to be on lots of minds that weekend.
Senior Prank/ Chapter Thirteen
After the second heat of the 100 yard dash ended Potts checked the times. His two runners in the race had qualified for the eight man final thanks to their times in the qualifying heats. G finished third, Lamont sixth. Potts then checked the team scores. His team trailed Kennedale High School of Arlington by one point. All that remained in the state meet were the pole vault, triple jump and the grand finale, the 100 meter dash. After the 100, he would know if the team won or finished second.
Potts knew that no other team could catch Kennedale or Thomas Jefferson. The state champ was going to be one or the other. Potts gathered his eight team members who had qualified for the state meet and told them, “Gentlemen, it comes down to one race. We’ve got to have our two runners finish ahead of their last runner if we want to be state champs. We’ve got about forty five minutes for the race. Just stay loose and be ready to run. You can do this.”
Lamont was still on cloud nine. He had won the 200 meter race and anchored the winning 4 X 100 meter relay team. Other team members had placed high enough to earn the team least a second place finish, but they were hopeful of getting Mr. Potts his championship. Lamont watched as G lay on the ground, relaxing, hat over his face, as though it was time for an afternoon siesta. Lamont was using the bathroom every five minutes, pacing back and forth, his nervousness overtaking him.
Approaching G he asked, “How can you be so calm at a time like this? I’m a nervous wreck. What do you do to prepare for a race like this?”
“First thing I do is think of a Whopper,” he answered. “A big delicious Burger King Whopper.”
“A Whopper.”
“When I get into the starting blocks I think of a Whopper waiting at the finish line.”
“Why a Whopper?”
“Because it is my favorite meal,” Muhammed stated. “I also think of the hungry dog story my father told me.”
“Hungry dogs and Whoppers, a strange combination,” Lamont said.
“Here’s the whole story,” G started. “When my father was young in Saudi Arabia, his family was poor. He used to race neighborhood kids for food. He was fast so he won a lot. He told me the hungry dog hunts best. He said it’s why he won so much. When he got a chance to get an education in America, he took it. He realized education was his ticket out of poverty. Today, we’re not poor thanks to that education. I’ve been blessed with some of his speed. Each race I envision the hungry dog and running to get that Whopper.”
“Wow, th
at makes sense now,” Lamont said, shaking his head for emphasis.
“What’s your favorite meal?” G asked. “Run for it.”
“I like lots of food, but the Subway meatball sub is probably my favorite,” answered Lamont. “I’ll try that approach today.”
Finally, the runners for the final race were called to the starting blocks. G was in the third lane, Lamont in the sixth with the two Kennedale runners between them. The gun sounded and the runners took off. After 50 meters, the midpoint, G was second and Lamont sixth the two other runners of interest still between the pair. At 75 meters G was holding second, Lamont had moved to fifth, again the two Kennedale runners between them. Potts had an uneasy feeling as he watched the race progress. He needed Lamont to pass a Kennedale runner, which he thought wasn’t possible at that moment.
Lamont was pushing, thinking of the hungry dog, but all he was coming up with is the fat dog. Maybe his dog had been fed and didn’t have the desire to hunt. At 15 meters the places of order hadn’t changed. Potts was starting to accept it would be second place. Then came the miracle of all miracles. One of the Kennedale runners suddenly grabbed the back of his thigh in agony and crashed to the track, the victim of a severely pulled hamstring muscle. Lamont passed the injured runner, enabling TJHS to win the state championship. Lamont would joke the runner slipped on a meatball.
G finished second and Lamont fourth, but it was good enough to give Thomas Jefferson the state championship. Potts first thought he didn’t want to win like that, but then he realized it didn’t matter. A win is a win. He had realized his dream…the state track and field championship.
He ran onto the track and embraced G and Lamont in a bear hug. They jumped up and down, this American combination of a black youth and a Muslim youngster and an old white man, celebrating success. Many coaches, who were lifelong friends, came over to congratulate the long time coach. Potts was on cloud nine.
An hour later, with trophy in hand, the group departed in the school district van for their trip back to Houston. As they left the state meet, Potts called Winston to deliver the news. Winston said, “Coach, you deserve it. You’ve been a very positive influence on tons of kids during your time here. We’ll celebrate Monday.”
The team arrived back at school a crowd of 200 welcomed them home, as word had quickly spread of their championship.
Monday members of the track team were in the school courtyard on Monday as the students filed in, accepting congratulations and showing their trophy and medals. School began at 7:30, and at 8:30 the principal came on with the daily announcements.
Today would be field day, farewell lunch, and yearbook signing party for the seniors. Tomorrow would be send off day for them. For the rest of the students this was the beginning of exam review week. Those students would finish school next week. He told the seniors to report to the football field at 9 a.m. He concluded his announcements at 8:40 then prepped for a raucous time on the football field.
At 8:45, a loud boat horn sounded. Nobody seemed to know why, but the seniors did. They left their classrooms, most against the wishes of the teacher, and headed for the school courtyard. They were gathering there in hopes of setting a record for the Guinness Book of World Records. The goal was to get all 450 students to the courtyard and have them send a text message at the same time. The record would be the most people sending a text message at one time in one place.
Winston got wind of the gathering, came running out of his office and toward the mob. He asked loudly, “Who’s in charge here? I need to talk to that person.”
Melody Ryden spoke up. “Mr. Winston, nobody’s in charge but this is a class project. We are preparing to set a world record for most texts at one time. It’s called a flash mob. We’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“No, No, No,” Winston said. “There will be no flashing. Anybody naked gets expelled. He or she won’t graduate. Don’t be stupid.”
“Nobody’s going to get naked,” she answered. “Once we get this done, we’ll head out to the football field.” Then Aaron Ryan hollered over a bullhorn, “Okay everybody, phones out, get ready to send a text. When you got it ready, hold it. Once everyone’s ready to go, we’ll send it together.”
Winston watched to make sure everyone stayed in line. “Let’s get it over with and move on,” he said out loud to nobody in particular.
“All ready, now send!” shouted Aaron over the bullhorn. “Now we are a record setting class. Let’s head to the football field and have some fun.”
Once they got to the football field, the students divided into groups and played games. The druggies headed under the bleachers to smoke a few joints for the last time during school. Aaron Ryan called Winston over to tell him that the senior class had decided to pay for some video cameras to be placed in places around the school. It would be the class’s gift to the school.
“A year too late,” Winston said quietly, bringing back flashbacks of the governor’s visit that might have been avoided if the school had the cameras then.
At ll:45 a.m. the students went to the cafeteria to enjoy their last school meal. Their teachers fed them chicken wings, pizza, tacos, French fries, and hamburgers.
“Best meal I’ve had in four years here,” Elvis said to Jose and Lamont.
Once they finished each senior got a pass to the yearbook signing party. To get their pass all debts and obligations had to be taken care of. The pass would get them into the auditorium where they could pick up their yearbook, and have fellow classmates sign it. Those without yearbooks were invited, also.
At the signing party, Winston reviewed the schedule for the final days. “Tomorrow school starts as usual, 7:30,” he said. “We’ll have the senior send off at 9:30 a.m. Graduation practice is 10 a.m. Thursday on the football field. If you are one minute late, you don’t walk. Graduation is Friday at 6 p.m. You have to be in under the bleachers by 5 p.m. If you don’t understand, please ask. There will be no excuses.”
On senior send off day, seniors were called to the cafeteria at 9:15 a.m. They marched down through the school’s long walkway out to the front of the main building, all the way being mooned, booed, called names and sometimes even applauded by the school’s remaining students, who lined the path through the school. The seniors returned the favor, offering their own insults, the finger and crotch grabbing. As they left, the school band played the alma mater. Once the class hit the front entrance, they were free to leave. School then returned to normal for the remaining students and teachers. Final exams would start later in the week.
Graduation night saw a small group of protestors set up across the street from the stadium. They were protesting the school’s ‘policy’ for gay students, with such signs as “Unfair to Bear, Bear Has a Right to be Gay, and Gays Play Football, Too.” These protestors were actually Westside football players, still trying to rub salt in the wounds from their game last fall. Big Bear saw them, and this time, ignored them. After the ceremony started, they left. By the way, Big Bear had signed to attend the University of Texas on an athletic scholarship.
The students were in position under the bleachers by 5:40 p.m., many sweating in caps and gowns under the Texas heat. The graduation ceremonies were moved to the football field a few years in a cost cutting measure. Two years ago a sudden downpour hit the ceremony, sending people running for cover. As a result the band now got its own cover, a huge tent open at one end, hopefully to avoid a repeat of the instrument damage the water had caused that previous graduation ceremony.
At 5:50, the band played a few of the school’s fight songs. Then at 6 p.m., the band broke into the graduation march, Pomp and Circumstance. The students filed onto the field and headed down to the front rows of bleachers reserved for the occasion.
As the band played Elvis said to the person in front of him, showing his now money making side, “Wonder how much in royalties Edward Elger has gotten over the years for that march being played? Can you imagine how many times that song has been played since he w
rote it in 1901?”
“Edgar who?” the student asked back.
“Edward Elger,” Elvis said. “He wrote that in 1901 for a ceremony in London.”
The marchers filed into their seats while the band played, a collection of red, blue and white, the school colors, caps and gowns. As the final student was seated, the many in the class stood up and started singing Alice Cooper’s song, School’s Out. Winston, sitting on the stage, jumped up once the singing began, and motioned with his hands to the class to be quiet. After a verse and one chorus, the singing faded and youngsters sat down.
Following the last student were a few of the FFA members, escorting two of the club’s pigs on a lease, the same ones that almost ran over the governor’s wife. The pigs were dressed in a cap and gown. After parading in front of the students and stage, the FFA members took the pigs away. It was their graduation, too, since they were being sold to a local slaughterhouse in the next week.
As soon as the students were seated, a few notes starting circulating through the group. They were all the same and at times crossed paths. The notes read, “Pie fight in parking lot after ceremony. FREE pies. Have fun.” There was no name to the note.
Students wondered if the note was serious or just another prank, but many were excited about the possibility of such an event. Many in the class realized at that point it would be difficult to administer any disciplinary actions.
Winston went to the microphone and made the welcoming remarks, then asked everyone to stand for the national anthem and alma mater. Elvis had already started playing games in the crowd. He recruited a few students near him to shoot rubber bands into the graduating seniors. If it hit the cap, it was a point, and if it stayed on the cap it was five points. Rubber bands were flying and a few game participants whispered scores. When the supply of rubber bands ran out, the game ended with no clear winner.
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