Read Online The Graduation by Christopher Pike - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Pike
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when I am given a chance to speak to—fine people.”
He paused and glanced again at the paperweight. For a moment, it appeared that he might actually drop it. Jessica could practically read his mind. He was thinking of gamma rays, beta rays, and those always terrible cosmic rays—all those mean nasty things he read about every night in his literature about the mean nasty military industrialists.
“It’s always a sad day, graduation day,” he mum-bled. “And a happy day.”
His voice faltered. He moved the paperweight from his right hand to his left, then moved it back. He was probably imagining the different rays penetrating his flesh, Jessica thought, mutating the DNA in his cells, setting him up for a hideous case of cancer five years down the line. His fear practically screamed out at the crowd.
This rock is killing me!
He couldn’t take it anymore. He took a step away, realized what he was doing, and then leaned back and spoke hastily into the mike. “And all I’d like to say is, good luck, good luck to all of you kids. Thank you.”
He left the stage in a hurry, pausing at his seat only long enough to get rid of Sara’s present, then strode toward the end of the folding chairs and off the football field. The audience watched quietly, reacting little. The class members whispered among themselves, relieved to have been spared another speech. Sara returned to the microphone.
“Our next speaker is the rarest of people,” Sara said seriously. “He is the smartest individual I have ever met, and the nicest. He is Michael Olson, our class valedictorian.”
“You should have gone out with him instead of Bill,” Polly whispered as Michael stood up and walked to the microphone. The welcoming applause was the loudest of the afternoon.
“I know.” Jessica sighed. “Do you think it’s too late?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Sara, for the kind introduction,” Michael said, standing perfectly straight, his hands clasped in front of his gown below his waist, not as relaxed as he could have been but nevertheless in control of the situation. “And thank you, ladies and gentlemen and fellow classmates, for inviting me to speak on this occasion. Like Sara, I will try to keep my talk brief. I, too, have written and discarded several speeches in the last couple of hours. None of the topics I chose seemed right. I suppose that is the problem with selecting any topic. It can only be about one thing, while our lives are about so many things. I finally decided I would simply talk about what is important to me as I prepare to graduate from high school.”
He glanced down at a small white card he held in his hand, and Jessica looked down at her shiny white high heels, and the grass beneath them. She was sitting on the forty-yard line, directly above the hash mark. She remembered the first Tabb High football game she had attended, how the team had tried for a first down on this part of the field and failed. Bill had fumbled the ball. She had a picture of the fumble in her files at home. She smiled at the memory, especially at how Michael had inadvertently helped her take the picture when he was demonstrating to her how to fit the telephoto lens onto her camera.
But that had been a long time ago.
Polly’s right. It’s too late.
“In a way I’m five months late with my speech,” Michael went on. “I left school in January, and today is my first day back. Since I’ve been gone, I’ve been rather busy, working and stuff. But I’ve often looked back and thought about what I learned at Tabb. The obvious thing that comes to mind is all the science and math and history I absorbed. The teachers here are really great, some of the best, and now. I think, would be a good time to thank them for their patience and dedication. They always praised me and gave me confidence. But maybe they did too good a job. One Of the problems with people thinking you’re smart is that you eventually begin to believe it. I remember all
He paused and glanced again at the paperweight. For a moment, it appeared that he might actually drop it. Jessica could practically read his mind. He was thinking of gamma rays, beta rays, and those always terrible cosmic rays—all those mean nasty things he read about every night in his literature about the mean nasty military industrialists.
“It’s always a sad day, graduation day,” he mum-bled. “And a happy day.”
His voice faltered. He moved the paperweight from his right hand to his left, then moved it back. He was probably imagining the different rays penetrating his flesh, Jessica thought, mutating the DNA in his cells, setting him up for a hideous case of cancer five years down the line. His fear practically screamed out at the crowd.
This rock is killing me!
He couldn’t take it anymore. He took a step away, realized what he was doing, and then leaned back and spoke hastily into the mike. “And all I’d like to say is, good luck, good luck to all of you kids. Thank you.”
He left the stage in a hurry, pausing at his seat only long enough to get rid of Sara’s present, then strode toward the end of the folding chairs and off the football field. The audience watched quietly, reacting little. The class members whispered among themselves, relieved to have been spared another speech. Sara returned to the microphone.
“Our next speaker is the rarest of people,” Sara said seriously. “He is the smartest individual I have ever met, and the nicest. He is Michael Olson, our class valedictorian.”
“You should have gone out with him instead of Bill,” Polly whispered as Michael stood up and walked to the microphone. The welcoming applause was the loudest of the afternoon.
“I know.” Jessica sighed. “Do you think it’s too late?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Sara, for the kind introduction,” Michael said, standing perfectly straight, his hands clasped in front of his gown below his waist, not as relaxed as he could have been but nevertheless in control of the situation. “And thank you, ladies and gentlemen and fellow classmates, for inviting me to speak on this occasion. Like Sara, I will try to keep my talk brief. I, too, have written and discarded several speeches in the last couple of hours. None of the topics I chose seemed right. I suppose that is the problem with selecting any topic. It can only be about one thing, while our lives are about so many things. I finally decided I would simply talk about what is important to me as I prepare to graduate from high school.”
He glanced down at a small white card he held in his hand, and Jessica looked down at her shiny white high heels, and the grass beneath them. She was sitting on the forty-yard line, directly above the hash mark. She remembered the first Tabb High football game she had attended, how the team had tried for a first down on this part of the field and failed. Bill had fumbled the ball. She had a picture of the fumble in her files at home. She smiled at the memory, especially at how Michael had inadvertently helped her take the picture when he was demonstrating to her how to fit the telephoto lens onto her camera.
But that had been a long time ago.
Polly’s right. It’s too late.
“In a way I’m five months late with my speech,” Michael went on. “I left school in January, and today is my first day back. Since I’ve been gone, I’ve been rather busy, working and stuff. But I’ve often looked back and thought about what I learned at Tabb. The obvious thing that comes to mind is all the science and math and history I absorbed. The teachers here are really great, some of the best, and now. I think, would be a good time to thank them for their patience and dedication. They always praised me and gave me confidence. But maybe they did too good a job. One Of the problems with people thinking you’re smart is that you eventually begin to believe it. I remember all
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