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.
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“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.
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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.