From What I Remember

by Stacy Kramer, Valerie Thomas

  The cop looks to be in his forties or fifties. I see a wedding ring on his finger.

  “Do you have kids, sir?” I ask the cop.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s just, if you have kids, then you know how important high school graduation is. To them and to you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got three kids.” That’s all he says.

  “Today’s our graduation. Right now, in fact. And we’re late. We went to Mexico last night and now we’re on our way back to school, but we got stuck at the border. Our parents are waiting there for us. Our relatives. Our whole class. See that girl in the front seat?” I point to Kylie. I’m whipping through sentences, keeping my fingers crossed. I have no idea what I’m doing. “She’s the valedictorian. She’s supposed to be speaking right now. That’s why we were speeding—”

  “That doesn’t mean you can break the law,” he says.

  “I know, sir.”

  “Everyone always has a good excuse for speeding. But there’s an enforced speed limit for a reason. You weren’t driving at a safe speed. It’s not safe for you or other people on the road. Graduation or no graduation, I can’t let you get away with it.”

  “I know,” I say. At this point, I’m giving up. I’m not getting the sense I’m making any progress with this guy. He’s had a million people try to talk their way out of a speeding ticket. Why did I think this was going to work? I’m not even doing a good job.

  The cop stares me down, “Can you get back in the car, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. I climb back into the Jeep. I shouldn’t have gotten out in the first place.

  The cop begins to write up our ticket, which is when Lily pops open the door and jumps out. Oh, no. Bad idea.

  “We’re late because we were doing our civic duty,” Lily announces to the cop.

  “Get back in the vehicle, miss,” the cop says.

  Lily doesn’t move. “We helped catch some thieves in Ensenada.”

  “Sure you did. Could you get back in the vehicle?” The officer rolls his eyes; he’s heard it all before.

  “Seriously. We helped the police arrest two dangerous criminals. Juan, could you get out here?” Lily demands.

  “As I’ve already explained to your friend, I can’t make any exceptions here.”

  Juan scrambles out of the rear seat, dives over the middle row, and clambers out of the car, like he’s at Lily’s service or something. She has that effect on people.

  “Can you get your friend, the police chief of Ensenada on the phone?” Lily asks Juan. “And could you have him tell”—Lily leans in and reads the officer’s name tag. The officer scowls at her, not pleased with whatever her game is—“Officer Kwan, here, how we helped catch the criminals, the ones who stole thousands of dollars of merchandise from your jurisdiction, actually, from the San Diego area.” Lily looks at Officer Kwan with a knowing nod, like she’s happy to be so informative.

  “I’m going to ask you one last time to get back in the vehicle. Or I’m going to have to take you all in to the station.”

  Lily crosses her arms and stands her ground. Shit. We’re all going to end up in jail. Juan takes out his phone and dials. He says a few words in Spanish and then hands the phone over to Officer Kwan.

  Officer Kwan looks at the phone like he’s being handed a dead pigeon. He doesn’t dare take it.

  “Please, sir. It’s the police chief from Ensenada. Will you just talk to him for a minute?” Juan pleads, pushing the phone on him. “He’ll explain everything.”

  Officer Kwan stares down at Juan. There’s a long beat where we all wait anxiously to see what Officer Kwan will do. Slowly, reluctantly, he takes the phone and dubiously puts it to his ear. He turns away from us, walks a few feet down the road, and listens for what seems like hours. Time moves in slow motion as we all keep our eyes on the officer, wondering what happens next. Finally, Officer Kwan heads back our way, talking on his radio.

  “I need a Suburban. Now. Any in the area?” Officer Kwan says. “Okay, send it.”

  He walks back over, hands the phone to Juan, and approaches Charlie, who’s still sitting in the driver’s seat.

  “So what time is graduation?” he asks Charlie.

  “It’s at noon, sir,” Charlie says. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Charlie use the word “sir.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Freiburg Academy. La Jolla,” Lily answers.

  “You kids are in a real pickle, huh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie responds.

  “Okay, it’s gonna be tight, but we’ll see what we can do.”

  And just at that moment, a huge black-and-white police van screeches to the curb right behind us, and stops. With caged windows and massive bolt locks on the back doors, it’s like an armored vehicle. Scratch that—it is an armored vehicle. It’s the kind of van police use to transport large numbers of prisoners to jail. I remember Mr. Dewhurst calling it a paddy wagon in history class. Shit. Is this the way we’re going to arrive at graduation?

  “Get in the vehicle, kids,” Officer Kwan instructs us. “It’s the only one big enough that’s available right now. Officer Spittani is going to drive you back to school. If you have a shot in hell of getting to graduation at all, you’re going to have to leave the driving up to us. I’ll have someone bring your car around later.”

  Without saying much of anything, probably because we’re too much in shock, we all file into the van. There are rusted benches on either side, and as Officer Kwan shuts the heavy metal doors at the back, Charlie, Lily, and I settle onto one bench while Kylie, Will, and Juan sit on the other, across from us. All we’re missing are the handcuffs.

  A police officer sits in the driver’s seat. This is obviously Officer Spittani. He turns and talks to us through the wire cage that separates the front from the cargo area.

  “You kids ready to rock and roll? Seat belts on, we’re gonna go pretty fast.”

  Officer Kwan waves as we peel out and back onto the highway, sirens blaring.

  Despite the minor detail that we will be arriving at school looking a lot like common criminals, I am psyched. Because we actually might make it in time for graduation. The mood starts to shift.

  “I don’t believe it,” Charlie says. “Juan, you the man.”

  “I try,” Juan offers, smiling.

  Will reaches over and squeezes Lily’s shoulder, “You rock, Lily Wentworth. Even though you can be a huge beyatch, I feel like kissing you.”

  “Yeah, don’t push it, Bixby,” Lily says.

  Kylie looks at me and smiles for the first time since Manuel’s house. “Thanks,” she says.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I say. “It was all Lily and Juan.”

  “You tried. Thanks for that. And thanks, Lily,” Kylie says. She and Lily lock eyes for a minute. I’m sure a million thoughts are exchanged between them in those six seconds. Things I’ll never understand.

  “You’re welcome. Now, do your part and rock out that speech. Make us pay attention,” Lily says.

  “’Kay,” is all Kylie offers.

  We all sit back, glued to our seats by the sheer force of velocity. The siren blasts. Red-and-white beams flash and whirl from the top of the van as we speed through San Diego at light speed.

  heck it out, buddy,” Dad says, pointing to Kylie’s name in the program. I already saw it. She’s the thirty-fifth name on the list. I looked for it as soon as we got the programs. Her name is also listed on the front, as valedictorian. And on page six, under Honors. According to the program, Kylie gives her speech and then the headmaster and then the commencement speaker, who is some guy named John Block. Then, I think, they name all the seniors, and people come up and get their diplomas. Last night, I decided I wasn’t coming to graduation. I didn’t care about seeing Kylie. I stopped wanting to see her at 9:15 p.m. when I found out she lied to us. She’s never done that before. Mom said she must have a really good reason. Mom told me that if I didn’t come, Kylie would be disappointed.
I didn’t care. But then I woke up this morning and I wanted to see her again. She still wasn’t home so I decided to come to graduation.

  Mom made me put on my khaki pants and my blue blazer and a tie. My neck feels really big in this tie. I want to take it off and throw it in the bushes. But Mom would be mad. It’s my only tie. My sunglasses keep slipping down my nose.

  When we got here Kylie wasn’t here. We’ve been waiting twenty-eight minutes and she still isn’t here. Mom says she’s on her way. We’re sitting on foldout chairs on the big lawn near the library. All the graduating seniors are sitting in foldout chairs across the lawn. Almost all the chairs have filled up, but there are still five empty chairs. One of them must be Kylie’s.

  “Do you think Kylie’s coming?” I ask Mom.

  “Of course she is,” Mom says. Mom and Dad keep looking at each other. They’re worried about Kylie. They’re wondering why she’s not here. Just like me.

  If I were graduating from high school I would be the very first one in my chair.

  Why is she taking so long? She’s never away from home. And now it feels like she’s never home. I guess this is what it’s going to feel like when she goes away to college. I don’t like it. I’m going to miss her. A whole lot.

  There’s a guy on the stage who keeps tapping the microphone. This horrible screeching sound is coming out of it that makes me want to put my fingers in my ears, but I know Mom doesn’t like when I do that. She says it’s disrespectful. I hope he fixes it.

  Dad made us stop on the way here to buy some flowers for Kylie. I got to choose them. I picked out yellow roses with these tiny white flowers mixed in. I’ve been holding them for forty-six minutes. They’re starting to wilt because it’s really hot. They probably should be in water. I’m afraid they’re going to die. I keep spitting on them to keep them wet, but I don’t think it’s working.

  I am wearing two watches—one digital on my left arm and one analog on my right arm—and they both say the same time,

  12:16. Where is Kylie? The headmaster takes the stage. People applaud. I don’t. I can’t. I’m still holding the flowers.

  “Welcome, everyone,” the headmaster says. “Sorry to get started a little late; we were just giving our graduation speaker some extra time. We’re not quite sure where she is.”

  He’s talking about Kylie. He’s wondering about her, too, just like me and Mom and Dad. I look for Will. I don’t see him, either. They must be together. I don’t know anyone else to look for. What if Kylie never comes? What if they call her to give her speech and she’s still not here? I wonder what will happen.

  I hear a police siren. It’s loud and getting louder, coming closer and closer. I stand up and look out at the street. A police van stops in front of the school. Everyone is turning around in their seats and staring at it. It’s practically on the lawn. A police officer climbs out of the front seat and goes around to the back to open the doors. That’s when Kylie gets out.

  he van screeches to a stop outside of Freiburg, careering over the sidewalk and onto the lawn. Officer Spittani gets out and unlocks the door for us. I’m about to jump out when Lily grabs my hand, stopping me.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “Just wait a minute.” Lily pulls a tube of lipstick out of her bag. Expertly, she dots my cheeks and lips, rubbing in the color with the focus of a makeup artist. She runs her hands through my hair, fluffing my curls. And then she takes out hand lotion, using it to smooth away flyaways.

  “Okay. Go,” Lily instructs. “Do this thing.”

  “’Kay, thanks…” I say, too thrown to say much else.

  I scramble out of the police van and burst onto the lawn to find my entire graduating class, their friends and family, staring at me. Shit. What an entrance. Not exactly what I was going for. I was kind of hoping to just walk up to the podium quietly, no spotlight, and plow through my mediocre speech as quickly as possible. But that’s all gone to hell.

  Max, Charlie, Lily, Will, and Juan stumble out after me. We all stand motionless for a moment. Shock and awe is probably the best way to describe our communal reaction. We stare out at the audience. They stare back at us. I try to spot Jake, Mom, and Dad in the crowd, but can’t find them.

  I can only imagine what everyone is thinking. I’m wearing the bright fuchsia Mexican wedding dress. Will has his Carhartt overalls on, and Max, Lily, and Charlie give new meaning to graduation casual in their shorts, jeans, and T-shirts. Lily has got to be bummed she didn’t have time to change. She’s always got the perfect outfit for every social occasion. This is nowhere near graduation chic. And, of course, we’ve all just climbed out of a police van most often used to transport prisoners, not graduating seniors.

  Headmaster Alvarez marches toward us, and to say he doesn’t look happy would be understating it by a mile.

  “What is going on here, Officer? Is there a problem?” Alvarez asks Officer Spittani, who, as it turns out, is a man of very few words. He didn’t say a thing the entire way to school, but he did haul ass, getting us here in record time. He’s clearly a man of action.

  “No problem at all. The kids just needed a little help getting to graduation on time,” Officer Spittani replies. He turns to us. “Good luck, guys. And congratulations.”

  We all offer up an earnest round of thanks. Officer Spittani hops back into the van and drives off, leaving us with Alvarez.

  “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?