Proposal Week

Prologue: Pass or Fail, 0 or 100

|Saturday|

I walked outside through the cold and snow as I headed toward a university assembly that awaited all seniors at eight am on a Saturday. I have no clue why they thought Saturday morning was the best time for this assembly, but it must be important because it is done every year with the seniors, but the seniors never spill what it's about.

I pushed open a heavy, metal door into the hallway of the main auditorium of Tristan University, home of the griffins. Very few seniors were here already, and the ones that were had coffee cups in hand as they slumped in their seats, wishing they were still snuggled up in their beds at this ungodly hour.

I headed in, plopping down in a chair in the middle, right where I had the perfect, face-on view of the stage. I tugged off a beanie from atop my mane of curly hair that fell down to my butt before I pulled back in a ponytail. I rarely wore my curls down, so when it was down, you were lucky to see it.

More seniors entered as the clock ticked closer to eight. Time was slowly passing, so I took the time to get lost in the wonders of Harry Potter for the seventh time.

"You're reading those books again, Ryla? How can you manage to read those so often? I can't stand wizardry." My best friend, Libby McNeil, sat down next to me with her green eyes glowing like emeralds and wavy blonde hair loose around her face.

"I know, and I can't believe we've had this debate since sixth grade. You keep continuing it, Libby. Why continue it when you could just accept the utter greatness that J. K. Rowling has set before us?" She laughed her infectious laugh that usually makes heads turn before quickly shutting up, giving me a dead look.

"The day I crack open one of those books and read the first sentence will be the day that Alyssa Taylor encourages her husband to go back on tour." (If you're confused, refer to the author's note at the end.) We both smiled in agreement before I shifted to face the front again as our headmaster noisily tapped on the microphone head.

"We get your point, Mr. Clemon!" Someone yelled out from the vast crowd of seniors who filled up nearly half of the auditorium.

"Jeremy Red, please, settle down before we start the presentation."

"Alright, Mr. Clemon!" He hollered back, gaining plenty of laughs. The kid hasn't grown up one bit since I last knew him way back when.

Our headmaster cleared his throat, achieving silence in the auditorium before he spoke in his nasal voice.

"Every year, seniors are required to do one activity as a whole that will earn each of you a test grade in each class that you are currently enrolled in. You can either pass or fail this test, get a 0 or 100. There is no in-between. Whatever grade you get will be put in as a test grade in every class you take this semester."

The silence in the room showed our shock. Students gaped, barely understanding what went in one ear and to their brain. I knew that it had to be something for getting us ready for life after college, but the stakes are apparently high. I mean, most of us have an entire semester left, and some are even graduating in two weeks.

"It is mandatory that all seniors participate in Proposal Week. It is a secret among all seniors that you must not spread to any other years. Throughout this Saturday, today, to next Saturday, each boy will have to come up with a sweet proposal to a certain girl in this Senior class. Rings must be handmade and may not include any type of fancy metals such as silver and gold or any gems like diamonds and sapphires. The list goes on." The boys began to groan and complain to each other over this news. A dull roar had begun.

"Silence!" Again, the devil strikes, "The rules for the boys will be on a list that will be handed to you with the girl's name at the bottom and some information about her. Find the best way to propose. We're trying to light a fire to make all of you gentlemen when it comes time to actually doing this outside of college.