[sic]

15. David Graduates

They met. Steven shook the older boy’s hand, reached out and clapped David on the back. I didn’t need to be able to read lips to tell the single syllable exchanged between them.

If it worried David to have only fifteen minutes to change his life irrevocably in front of everyone who knew him, it didn’t show. After another maddening round of applause for the seniors, they were seated. The principal stepped up to a podium to begin the introductions. After a bit of sentimental nonsense, the administrator announced my friend:

“And now we present your valedictorian, David Bloom,” a low voice boomed out from the dozen stacked speakers pounding like war drums each time the speaker’s tongue and teeth touched.

Thunderous ovation. David stood, looking shocked and amazed, humble as always. I couldn’t help but ride a swell of pride; of everyone here who knew of David Bloom, I knew him best.

David cleared his throat, and the audience fell still. “Thank you for this honor,” he began, then stopped and looked around.

I tried to imagine myself in his shoes, with minutes left to complete the tag. Would he ignore Steven’s challenge and graduate like normal? That’d be my reaction. But, that’s why I admired David—he’d never compromised before, no matter the odds. He spoke: “I thought a long time about what I’d say up here today. I struggled with it. But in the end, my own guilty conscience requires me to inform you all I’ve cheated many, many times on tests to make these grades and I do not deserve to be valedictorian. Thank you.”

Silence reigned. The spectators sat, mouths agape as parents and students tried sucking in air to cool overheating brains.

“That’s all,” David finished.

The first sound was of a single person trying to start a slow clap. It failed.

The second sound was one of David’s teachers breaking into tears.

The third was everyone shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

David walked off the field. A dirty little murmur metastasized into to an argument within the crowd: the results of the entire graduation were now in question. The ground dropped from under me; I’d never expected our game to go this far. David Bloom willingly forfeited his past and future: scholarships, everything.

And Steven was responsible. I was furious; he should’ve known better. He should’ve known David couldn’t say no.

Jeering burst forth from the audience, at odds with others who clapped sarcastically. Steven walked away from David and something in the way he smiled brought this unfamiliar anger out of me. Not anger: rage. An uncontrollable urge to beat the crap out of this smug little punk. Steven thought he’d done something great.

I watched the little nerd retreat back under the bleachers and followed closely, pushing my way past the audience members who felt a similar desire to leave the ceremony. Steven’s shoulder was in reach; I gripped the bony protrusion and spun him to face me. I tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Then he aimed the smirk at me. I couldn’t handle it; I shoved him, hard, sending him tripping over an older man in a suit and tie.

Steven charged back at me, fist connecting with my cheek. The immediate numbness evolved into burning pain. I punched him back. Steven tackled me, arms wrapped around my knees, dragging me down. We rolled around swinging at each other, each feeling equally vindicated in our attacks.

Graduation was over.

As I fought to stand, bodies collided with Steven’s then mine, sending me rolling back into the cement. Someone clad in blue grappled with my hands, which I kept extended, warding away whatever was coming. Pepper spray hissed, may as well have been a flamethrower; my eyes, cheeks and mouth ignited in blinding pain. Logic left me; I kept swinging.