The noise dies down; people are ready for more, but Kylie just stares out at us, quiet. She seems frozen. I hope she’s got a second act. It may have been a good start, but she can’t just leave it there. A few seconds pass, Kylie’s still not revving it up. Damn, what’s happening? Is she backing down? I have to stop myself from rushing the stage and walking her out of here. It’s the wrong plan—she wouldn’t want it and it wouldn’t do any good. I just have to hope she can pull it together and continue. I’m breathing hard, like I’m right up there on the stage with her. I know Kylie can do this. Think, think, I try to convey to her even though she’s not looking my way. You know what you want to say, Kylie. Don’t give up.
People are getting impatient. Someone throws a paper airplane, made from a program, at Kylie. It lands at her feet.
“Why’d she stop talking?” Carl asks.
“Maybe she remembered what a loser she is and that no one cares what she has to say,” Jessica says.
Carl and Jessica bump fists. I feel my face getting hot.
“Shut up,” I say. “She’s not a loser. She’s way cool. So don’t talk shit about her.”
Jessica and Carl look at me like I’ve sprouted horns. And maybe I have. I don’t know why I care so freaking much about this girl. It certainly doesn’t seem like she feels the same way about me.
“What’s it matter to you what we say about Crazy Kylie?” Carl asks.
“It just does, dude. So don’t say it. And she’s not crazy.”
“’Kay,” Carl says. He shuts up and turns away.
He may have gotten a soccer scholarship to UCSB, but he’s still a douche bag, and he doesn’t want to get on my bad side before Charlie’s party tonight.
Alvarez is freaking out. He must be wondering how this could be happening to him. Kylie Flores seemed like the surest thing ever as valedictorian. Who would think she’d go off the rails now? Alvarez stands and approaches Kylie. Is he going to walk her off the stage? But just as he gets to her, Kylie leans in to the microphone.
“I’ve spent the past six years at Freiburg working incredibly hard. And I did well. Super well in school. Better than all of you. I mean, I’m standing here, and you’re not, so I must have done something right. I certainly did everything I was supposed to do. And more. I never got a B, I aced my SATs, and got a full ride to a top college, but I spent all of my time at Freiburg in the library, not talking to anyone. I’m not sure that was the best way to go. When you over-prepare and micromanage everything, there’s no time for spontaneity. No time for life to play out. Life is something we have to experience, really feel, not just study for with books in a library. Learning is about so much more than school. If we’re too busy studying, we miss out on the experience. What I’ve only just realized is that I’ve been missing out. And I don’t want to do that anymore!”
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.
“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 yelclass="underline" “I. LOVE. YOU. KYLIE!”