“Good girl,” Angel said once I was sitting on the side of the bed. I thought about being annoyed at being talked to as if I was a labrador, but decided on apathy instead. Apathy was great in that it required very little effort on my part.
Angel pulled the walker over to my bed, causing the apathy to be replaced by two of my new favorite emotions: dread and bitterness.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going.”
“Scout, it’s your high school graduation. You have to go. Everyone is expecting you to be there,” she said, speaking literally. Timber is a small town which sees very little in the way of excitement. The accident had been the biggest thing to hit Lake County since an ice storm came through two years ago. I was the lead story on the local news for over a week. My injuries had been too severe to return to school, and I hadn’t ventured any further than the doctor’s office since Alex’s funeral. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the county showed up for graduation just so they could gawk at the girl who survived being mauled by a wild animal.
“I don’t feel good. I just want to stay in bed.”
Angel put her hands on her hips, a look of determination on her face. “You can’t stay in bed forever.”
“Why not? It’s warm. And comfy. And it’s got all these great pillows.” And it was the place where I could sleep, where I could dream.
Angel pulled herself up to her full three and a half feet. “Harper Lee Donovan, get up. I mean it.”
I threw a blanked over my face. Angel pulled it back down. “You have to take a shower. Your hair is getting yucky again.”
I ran a hand over my head and discovered she was right. When was the last time I washed it?
I still wasn’t sold on the idea of attending graduation, but I was in dire need of a shower, or at least a sponge bath. The tiny part of me that still cared about such things was appalled.
I bit my lip as I pulled myself up, too stubborn and embarrassed to scream out. The room swayed, but I managed to stay upright.
Three hours later I was deeply regretting my decision to get out of bed.
The gymnasium, which is fairly massive for a small town thanks to our obsession with basketball, was packed. Either the air conditioner couldn’t compete with that many bodies crammed together, or it wasn’t functioning. Either way, I was melting inside of the gaudy blue gown I was forced to wear over my dress. The sound system was turned up way too loud, amplifying Senator Harper’s voice to the point I feared my eardrums would burst. And I’m not sure who it was, possibly the entire senior class as a whole, but someone forgot to put on deodorant.
Why couldn’t we have graduation outside like one of those normal schools they show on TV?
“This is painful,” said the person to my left. I turned my head to meet a pair of brilliant green eyes. A tingly pain-like sensation ran across my abdomen as my heart battered itself against my ribcage. “At least you got a new car out of the deal. The rest of us have to withstand this torture without any sort of compensation.”
I could have explained how the car was most likely a political payoff from the Toyota plant in Scott County to Senator Harper, who just happened to be my grandfather. I could have theorized that he only pawned it off as a graduation gift because he personally wouldn’t ever be seen in anything less than a Mercedes. I could have even pointed out it wasn’t like I would be driving it in the foreseeable future. But all that would require actually talking to Jase, something I hadn’t done in almost a month.
For the first few weeks he tried, begged even, but eventually gave up. We lived in the same house, a mere wall separating our bedrooms, but he lived his life in the real world while I was confined to the protection of my bed. I wasn’t sure why he was talking to me now. Maybe he banked on the sentimentality of the day to make me forget how he shredded my stomach and assisted in the murder of my boyfriend.
I turned back to the stage just as Senator Harper completed his assault on good sense by promising we could live the American dream and change the world simply by the fact we’d completed our secondary education. I could only assume everyone was clapping out of sheer relief that he’d finally quit talking.
When the applause faded out a new person was positioned behind the mike. She looked a bit like Snow White - dark, bouncy hair spilling down her back in shiny waves; porcelain skin fortunate enough to never see a blemish in its eighteen years; deep blue eyes sparkling with kindness. She stood awkwardly, attempting to conceal her short, curvaceous body with her arms.
“As most of you know, I’m not really supposed to be here.” Talley’s voice shook as she addressed the room full of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and fellow graduates. “The position of Valedictorian is reserved for the person with the highest GPA. It’s given in recognition of twelve years of hard work, of excelling academically. While I did work hard for twelve years and did pretty well in all of my classes, there was someone who worked harder, did better. This isn’t my speech to make, so it’s not my speech I’m going to give.” My best friend looked at me and gave a nervous smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”