Read Online The Graduation by Christopher Pike - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Pike
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vague. Hitler had been dynamic. Of course, she realized, it had not been a bad year for everyone.
The diplomas were to be presented alphabetically; for that reason, the seating followed roughly that or-der. But Jessica Hart had switched with someone so she could sit next to Polly McCoy rather than Larry Harry. Larry not only had a weird name, he also had such consistently bad breath that Sara once remarked that if at the end of his life he donated his body to medical science, he would probably be found posthumously guilty of involuntary manslaughter when the medical students cut open his cadaver and choked to death.
Jessica also wanted to be with her old friend at this special time. Polly had suffered far more than any of them, and Jessica had courageously helped her the last few months by avoiding her. Not entirely, naturally; they continued to talk at lunch and stuff. But they no longer hung out as real friends do. The reason was simple. They were both down, and Jessica had discovered that the truism that the depressed seek out the company of other depressed people to be entirely false. Being around Polly only made her feel worse.
Yet seeing Maria again made Jessica want to atone for her cowardly approach to the situation. Sitting to the far right of the stage, in the back row—twenty rows behind Maria’s front-row wheelchair—Jessica leaned over to Polly as Mr. Smith completed his talk.
“He’s such a nice man,” she said.
“He must be to have put up with Sara all year,” Polly said.
“Who’s that he’s introducing?”
“A car-company executive. He’s here to inspire us to go out into the big wide world and get rich.” Polly winced slightly, took off her cap, and put her hand to her temple. “I’m already rich.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah.”
Jessica wiped the sweat from her brow. “It’s this sun.”
“It’s sunny every day.” Polly searched the stands.
“Looking for somebody?”
“No, nobody.”
The guest speaker did turn out to be a strong believer in capitalism. His name was James Vern and ten years ago he had swiped—his actual phrase was “drew from the research of”—an invention that improved the efficiency of transmissions in large trucks, and parlayed it into millions. He laughed when he recounted the lies he had told to get financing for his company. Jessica wondered if he knew what a jerk he was. He talked for forty-five long minutes.
Sara came next. People giggled as she made her way to the microphone. Jessica tossed around in her head the idea of singing “Hey Jude.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vern, for your enlightening words,” Sara said, the tiniest hint of tension in her voice as she adjusted the mike down to her height. “The world of modern business really sounds like a jungle. But I suppose even a snake needs a place to live.”
The audience chuckled uneasily. The senior class cheered appreciatively. Sara smiled and went on more confidently, not using any notes. Jessica noticed for the first time that the top of the podium had been removed. As Sara had mentioned, there was no place to put papers.
“I have written several speeches this last week,” Sara said. “I have one on this country’s need to remain competitive in the world marketplace. I put a lot of time into it. Then I thought, haven’t we been number one long enough? Shouldn’t we give someone else a chance? I decided it was all a question of whether we want to be greedy or cool about it. I also had this speech on our future. It is my understanding that ASB presidents across the country talk about this subject graduation day. I really got into the idea myself—for a while. Then I realized that the best minds on Wall Street can’t tell if the Dow Jones average is going to go up or down a couple of lousy points tomorrow, never mind where it’s going to be ten years from now. The earth could get smashed by a huge meteorite this instant and vaporize us all, and then what would we do?
The diplomas were to be presented alphabetically; for that reason, the seating followed roughly that or-der. But Jessica Hart had switched with someone so she could sit next to Polly McCoy rather than Larry Harry. Larry not only had a weird name, he also had such consistently bad breath that Sara once remarked that if at the end of his life he donated his body to medical science, he would probably be found posthumously guilty of involuntary manslaughter when the medical students cut open his cadaver and choked to death.
Jessica also wanted to be with her old friend at this special time. Polly had suffered far more than any of them, and Jessica had courageously helped her the last few months by avoiding her. Not entirely, naturally; they continued to talk at lunch and stuff. But they no longer hung out as real friends do. The reason was simple. They were both down, and Jessica had discovered that the truism that the depressed seek out the company of other depressed people to be entirely false. Being around Polly only made her feel worse.
Yet seeing Maria again made Jessica want to atone for her cowardly approach to the situation. Sitting to the far right of the stage, in the back row—twenty rows behind Maria’s front-row wheelchair—Jessica leaned over to Polly as Mr. Smith completed his talk.
“He’s such a nice man,” she said.
“He must be to have put up with Sara all year,” Polly said.
“Who’s that he’s introducing?”
“A car-company executive. He’s here to inspire us to go out into the big wide world and get rich.” Polly winced slightly, took off her cap, and put her hand to her temple. “I’m already rich.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah.”
Jessica wiped the sweat from her brow. “It’s this sun.”
“It’s sunny every day.” Polly searched the stands.
“Looking for somebody?”
“No, nobody.”
The guest speaker did turn out to be a strong believer in capitalism. His name was James Vern and ten years ago he had swiped—his actual phrase was “drew from the research of”—an invention that improved the efficiency of transmissions in large trucks, and parlayed it into millions. He laughed when he recounted the lies he had told to get financing for his company. Jessica wondered if he knew what a jerk he was. He talked for forty-five long minutes.
Sara came next. People giggled as she made her way to the microphone. Jessica tossed around in her head the idea of singing “Hey Jude.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vern, for your enlightening words,” Sara said, the tiniest hint of tension in her voice as she adjusted the mike down to her height. “The world of modern business really sounds like a jungle. But I suppose even a snake needs a place to live.”
The audience chuckled uneasily. The senior class cheered appreciatively. Sara smiled and went on more confidently, not using any notes. Jessica noticed for the first time that the top of the podium had been removed. As Sara had mentioned, there was no place to put papers.
“I have written several speeches this last week,” Sara said. “I have one on this country’s need to remain competitive in the world marketplace. I put a lot of time into it. Then I thought, haven’t we been number one long enough? Shouldn’t we give someone else a chance? I decided it was all a question of whether we want to be greedy or cool about it. I also had this speech on our future. It is my understanding that ASB presidents across the country talk about this subject graduation day. I really got into the idea myself—for a while. Then I realized that the best minds on Wall Street can’t tell if the Dow Jones average is going to go up or down a couple of lousy points tomorrow, never mind where it’s going to be ten years from now. The earth could get smashed by a huge meteorite this instant and vaporize us all, and then what would we do?
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