From What I Remember (49 page)

Kylie is rallying. I feel a huge sense of relief. Maybe she’s going to pull this one out of the hat. Just in case she doesn’t, Alvarez stands nervously by her side. He’s not taking any more chances.

“In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve learned more about myself and my potential than I learned in all my years at Freiburg. With my apologies to Headmaster Alvarez.”

Kylie glances at the headmaster, who looks like his head is about ready to explode. This is not the kind of speech a headmaster hopes for. This is the kind of speech they fire headmasters for.

“As I said, I don’t have a lot of advice. But I do have a few suggestions. Sometimes having no script, having no idea what is going to happen next, having no map, might be the way to go. Because life just happens, and when it does, how you handle it will teach you more about who you are than any class or test ever can. The best preparation for the rest of your life is, maybe, no preparation at all. Dive right in. Make mistakes. Break a few rules. Wing it.

“Figuring out what you want comes from failing, and then trying again. It comes from questioning everything, falling in love, fighting the power, living without limits. It doesn’t come from getting straight A’s, playing by the rules, and listening obediently.”

Kylie glances over at Headmaster Alvarez. He looks ready to kill her. “I’m sure Headmaster Alvarez isn’t exactly pleased with everything I’m saying. It’s not what he expected. It’s not what I intended. But let me just add, I’m not saying don’t plan for your future and don’t work hard. I’m just saying, don’t let that be all you do. Because that’s not enough. Trust me, I’ve been there. And I have no plans to go back. Things are happening right now, right here, and if you’re not in the mix, you’re missing out. Who’s with me?”

“I am,” people call out, one after the other. Kylie’s got the crowd in a way I never would have imagined. In a way she never did during school. I see her lips curl into a grin. She’s into it, living her moment. She takes the microphone out of the stand. She looks comfortable on the stage, relaxed. Alvarez, not so much. I don’t think he likes the freewheeling microphone thing. He looks like he wants to snatch it from her clutches, but she takes a few steps away from him.

“So, kiss the girl. Buy the dress. Take a vacation. Join the circus. Order the fried frog legs. Try out for the play. Learn to snowboard. Do something that scares the shit out of you. Or something that makes you happy. Or something that makes you cry. Whatever it is, do something that makes you feel something. Because feeling nothing is no way to go through life.”

I’m watching Kylie, I’m listening, and all of a sudden, I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want to disappoint myself. I am overwhelmed by a love for this girl I barely know. I wish she felt the same.

can’t believe Kylie is still talking. And talking. Off the cuff, saying what she feels, no filter. No editing. It’s so not her. And I’m eating it up. Every last word. There’s so much takeaway I don’t have enough doggy bags for it all. “I’ve spent a lot of time watching movies. Maybe too much time. I’ve convinced myself I’m going to be a screenwriter, and while it’s more likely that I’ll end up selling popcorn at the Regal Cinema on Osprey, I don’t care. I’m going for it. Against all odds. Despite what anyone says. I plan to write myself a rocking lead role in life. Chances are, the movie of my life won’t get made. But I don’t want to think about that now. My recommendation is that you don’t either. Write yourself a kick-ass movie to star in, and don’t listen to what anyone says. At least not right now. Now is the time to try. It might feel like we have forever. But the sad truth is, we don’t. And we won’t always feel this optimistic about the future. So, go for it. Before there’s too much standing in your way.”

“Sing it, sister,” I shout out. “That’s my girl up there!” I tell everyone sitting within twenty feet.

“Jesus, Bixby, you just screamed in my ear! Can you shut up, please,” Patrick Bains says to me.

“Stuff it, Bains,” I say. I’ve sat next to Patrick Bains in every single assembly since first grade and I am so sick of him I could puke. He’s been president of the student council three years running, and so full of himself it’s criminal for a guy with an inexcusable lack of fashion savvy and a pretty serious case of halitosis. I can’t wait to never see his mug again.

“What is your problem?” Patrick asks me.

“You are my problem,” I say, and then I turn back to Kylie and yell: “I. LOVE. YOU. KYLIE!”

“‘I didn’t invent the rainy day, man. I just own the best umbrella,’” Kylie says. “That’s one of my favorite lines of all time. It’s from a movie called
Almost Famous
. I think what it means is that life is going to throw all kinds of stuff at you, good and bad. But all you can do is get out there and try to stay dry.”

I give a big whoop for
Almost Famous
because it’s a genius line to quote in a graduation speech. And no one but Kylie would think to use it.

Bains glares at me. Dude, you might want to talk to a digestive specialist about that breath problem. It’s not going to help you any at college.

“So get a good umbrella, class of 2012! You’re going to need it! And congratulations!” With that, Kylie leaves the stage and goes to her seat.

For a second, no one does a thing. There’s silence. And then the place erupts in applause. Loud and hard and long. A bunch of people jump to their feet, others follow suit. It’s a standing O. Holy. Shit! My girl got herself a standing O! I am so proud of her, my eyes well up and a lump forms in my throat.

Kylie outdid herself. I am whistling and cheering. I can see Max a few rows away, hands in the air, clapping furiously. Juan, who has been sitting near the stage the entire time, is on his feet, fists pumping. My eyes are trained on Kylie as she takes her seat. Her face explodes into a giant grin. Girlfriend knows she nailed it. We all know she nailed it. Take that, Freiburg. Put it in your pipe and smoke it. No more Kylie Flores to kick around.

’ve been watching Max watch Kylie, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. He’s way into her, so far down the road there’s no turning back. Clearly, something happened in Mexico. Something that changed absolutely everything. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a fling. Max couldn’t take his eyes off Kylie in the car, and then during her speech, and even now as she’s sitting two rows in front of him. I thought we still had a chance, but I realize now that he’s gone, baby, gone. And there’s not a thing I can do. Max keeps glancing over at Kylie as Alvarez speaks. It certainly didn’t help things that Kylie managed to miraculously come up with a great valedictorian speech. I mean, it wasn’t hard to do; there’s not exactly stiff competition. Last year’s speaker, Benjy Samuels, fainted halfway through his speech. And the year before that, Emma Ralston showed up wasted. Most of the other speakers in recent history have been so deadly dull, no one remembers what they said. I’m sure we’ll barely remember Kylie’s tomorrow morning. Still, the standing O was beyond irritating. I am so screwed. Kylie has managed to pull herself out of the abyss of social obscurity just in time for me to fall in.

I notice Luca Sonneban staring at me. He’s sitting at the beginning of my row. Can he tell something is going on with Max and Kylie? Is he gauging my reaction to this whole public disaster? Or is he checking me out, as usual? I smile and wave, and he blushes a deep scarlet. It looks good with his perennially tanned skin. He’s hot. Funny, I never really noticed. Well, I’m noticing now.

Luca has been crushing on me since ninth grade. He’s asked me out at least half a dozen times. I’ve always said no. He’s just not my type—a little too surfer dude, with the long stringy blond hair and the constant board shorts. Enough already. We get it. You surf.

We kissed once at a party in tenth grade. There was waaaay too much tongue. It was slobbery, like making out with my Labradoodle. But he could be trained. And he’s got plenty of money. So there’s that. The problem is, Stokely has the hots for him, which is unfortunate. Normally I’d steer clear—sisterhood and all that. But things have reached critical mass, and as much as I don’t want to hurt Stokely, I need to put myself first.

“Congratulations, class of 2012!” Alvarez yells out.

A loud roar goes up from the senior class, and we all jump out of our seats and toss our caps in the air. Big whoop!