I hadn’t heard from him.
And I couldn’t think about that right now.
Rider’s gaze trekked over my face. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I whispered.
His lashes lowered as his shoulders tensed. “Do you think—”
“All right, class.” Mr. Santos clapped his hands, cutting us off. “We’ve got a lot of speeches to get through today, so we need to get started. So, welcome to speech number three—The Person Most Important to Me, one of my favorite of the year. I hope that in writing about someone who’s influenced you, you’ve learned a little something about who you are. And I hope by delivering your speech here today, you’ll remember to cherish the person you’re telling us about. Because as we were reminded of recently...” His gaze flickered briefly to Hector’s empty seat. “Life can be all too brief.”
Whatever Rider was about to say to me faded to the background as Mr. Santos called the first student to the front of the class. Then the next student went up. Then Keira, who gave her speech clutching the podium. By that point I’d scooted to the edge of my seat, prepared to either make a mad dash for the door or fall out of my chair.
On her way to her desk, she threw me a thumbs-up. I tried to smile, happy that she’d gotten through it, but I was currently doing everything to keep myself from running from the class. Next to me, Rider was braced on the edge of his own seat, his posture a strange mirror of mine.
“Leon Washington, the floor is yours,” Mr. Santos said. “I’m sure we’re all dying to know about the influences that have molded you.”
I didn’t hear a single thing Leon said. People were laughing, though, and Mr. Santos looked like he was considering early retirement, so I wished I’d been able to pay attention.
“Mallory Dodge?” Mr. Santos called from his perch on the edge of his desk. His eyes were kind as they met mine, as kind as they’d been when I’d come to him at lunch yesterday with my odd request. “You’re up.”
I heard Paige’s sharp laugh of surprise.
I didn’t remember standing, but I saw the shock on Rider’s face as I stepped around my desk. Halfway there I realized I didn’t have my paper, and I had to go back and get it. My face was hot. Someone, a guy, chuckled. He sat in front of Paige.
Paige kicked the back of his seat.
Perhaps I had passed out and hit my head, because I couldn’t believe she’d done that, but no one else laughed—or if they did, I didn’t hear them over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. I made it to the front of the room and turned, standing before the chalkboard and behind the podium.
My gaze roamed over the class. Half weren’t even looking at me. They were staring into their laps or at their desks. Or their eyes were closed. That left the other half. Who were definitely looking at me.
I glanced at Keira and she grinned, sticking up her thumb again.
“Anytime you want to start,” Mr. Santos said.
Nodding, I tried to swallow. I saw a sea of faces staring back at me. The seal started forming in the back of my throat.
Someone coughed.
This was...this was horrifying. Tears started to clog my throat. I looked to Mr. Santos for...for I don’t know what, and then I was staring at the class again.
Out of all the faces, my gaze landed on Rider’s, and he...he nodded. I could practically hear his voice in my head. You can do this. And then it became my voice. He was right. I was right. I could. It would be painful and probably embarrassing—no, not embarrassing, because only I controlled whether or not I was embarrassed. And I could do this. And I wouldn’t be embarrassed. Even if I was, just a little, it didn’t matter in the big scheme of things. This speech wasn’t forever. Being embarrassed was not forever. None of this was forever.
But trying was.
Living was.
My gaze fell to my paper and the seal slipped down my throat.
Some people have one person who’s important to them. Who’s influenced them more than anyone else. Our assignment was to write about that one person, but as I wrote this speech I realized that I couldn’t pick just one. And when my story ends I hope you’ll understand why, but for my story to make sense, I need to start all the way at the beginning.
Mouth dry, I didn’t look up at the class as I started again with the hardest three sentences I’d ever written or had to speak out loud.
When I was a little girl, I used to hide in my closet. The space was dust-covered and dark, and it smelled like mothballs. But it was my sanctuary from the monsters outside. When I got older and I would have to hide, I used to fantasize that I lived in a house where the closets trapped all the monsters and where I would be safe in my bed. That I lived in a house with parents I could look up to and admire, and one day they would become the subjects of a speech I wrote about how they changed my life for the better. I didn’t live in that kind of house. But the monsters I hid from shaped who I’ve become by teaching me that kindness and love are things that should be given freely. They taught me who I never want to be. That’s why they’re important to me today.
Two people adopted me when I was almost thirteen. They didn’t see a frightened child who didn’t speak. They saw a daughter, their daughter. They dedicated every spare moment to erasing the bad memories and beating back the nightmares. They opened up doors that had never been available to me before, and believed in me. They proved that love and kindness can be given freely and without expectation. They taught me to trust and that I no longer need to be afraid.
When I was homeschooled I met a girl who had never had a problem speaking or meeting new people. At first I was envious of her openness and friendliness. Meeting people and making friends was something I wasn’t good at. We were polar opposites, and I never expected that one day she would become my best friend. She proved that you can find your best friend when you least expect it. And recently, she has influenced me by not taking what I have for granted.