Eric, Jody Kaye [well read books TXT] 📗

what it was about. But I’d wanted to wait to see my mother’s reaction in the crowd hearing the address for the first time at commencement. So much for that. I’d worked so hard on it, the same as I had my grades all throughout school. This wasn’t only about making my mother proud; I’d hoped if my daddy looks down from heaven he’d be smiling too.

The graduates are lined up in alphabetical order, seated in the rows in front of their parents. My seat is empty. When I was sitting with my classmates, I’d tried to stop peering over my shoulder. It was useless. I hadn’t been able to convince myself that my own mother wasn’t attending my high school graduation. Diana Adair must be tucked up in the audience somewhere?

It is more than fine if my stepfather didn’t show. The sentiment would be the same with or without his outburst this morning. But the kind face I’d relied on as a child and never considered missing it isn’t here. Looking back, I’ll be able to pinpoint the last moment my mom was proud of me and chose me first.

Gazing back at the crowd, I’m glad the dark-stained oak stand covers my lower half. Miss Rose got her information secondhand, which means the town social network is ready to pounce. They’ll read into whatever statements I make, twisting and manipulating the words of my commencement address to fit whatever nastiness the current opinion of the Adair girl being knocked-up by a Kingsbrier is.

Some of them, like Eric’s momma, are probably right. How could I claim to love a boy and ruin his future? The insidious words Alan Adair spoke creep into my head. I’ve always known I’m not good enough to have been Eric Cavanaugh’s girlfriend.

I begin reading the lines on the printed paper. They fuzz together as I greet the high school staff, parents, and fellow graduates. Taking a deep breath, I vow not to let my emotions overwhelm me. If being valedictorian is my finest hour, I refuse to hand over the last of my self-worth.

There have to be other students in Texas, let alone the rest of the country, who were first in their class who are enduring the same thing. Well, not trying to deliver a speech and disguise a pregnancy, more standing up here with no one in the audience who has known them their entire life taking pride in the accomplishment. It was so much work to maintain my grades and not slip into the second spot. This is one of the few glimmers of things I can tell my baby I did right.

Starting at Z, I take the time to look at each of the classmates I’ve spent the last four years with and recite the words laid on the page. Despite being the middle born of the quints, Eric’s face is the first Cavanaugh I come upon. His brow is furrowed, he’s gazing at me with intent like he’s trying to parse each sentence into digestible chunks. Colton distracts an openly angry Daveigh by nudging her. His own face blank as a slate and unreadable. Brier picks her nails at first, then purses her lips into a polite flat smile. Adam’s arm is around his sister. I don’t feel a part of them the way I have these past few years. I’m as empty as my seat at the head of the alphabetized line.

With two paragraphs left, my focus is failing. There’s nothing rooting me to the ground. My head feels floaty like a balloon flying out of a child’s hand. Stares from the audience bore through me. They all have to know about the baby. They all must realize my parents abandoned me today. How could someone so smart do something so stupid?

Darkness blurs my vision and sparkling hints of white crackle as I close my eyes, hoping to regain some composure. I can’t pass out. Not now.

A slight movement fights for my attention and a figure in the crowd stands. Miss Rose is perfectly coiffed in her elegant suit and high heels. A fierce and determined look makes it abundantly clear Mrs. Cavanaugh will run, if not climb, through the seats to my aid.

I clutch the side of the podium. My lungs move hot breaths in and out of my body through my parched mouth. I swallow and nod to Eric’s momma, who relaxes back into her seat.

There are six more hypocritical sentences left about being the best person you can be, reaching for your dreams, and fulfilling the goals the graduates are setting for themselves on the path to adulthood. The crowd claps.

With shaky knees, I return to my seat. Bored by my diatribe, Colton slaps his hands together a few times when I pass by. I look at the first paragraph on the crumpled page, not remembering speaking it at all. My nervousness made me miss the most important day of my life. Clutching my stomach, I realize I won’t have a story to tell my baby. The girl next to me from my homeroom has to prompt me when it’s time to receive our diplomas. A day that should stand out in my memory is nothing but a blur of angry voices and disappointment.

I’m holding my cap in my hand while my peers search for the ones they’ve thrown. Parents who have separated from their children for the past hour, swirl in the crowd trying to capture those last precious moments. Meanwhile, I don’t even remember how the rolled paper with the school color’s ribbons tied to it got into my hand.

“We did it!” Brier bumps into me, talking to the rest of her friends in the Senior class.

Mr. Cavanaugh makes the rounds of his children from oldest to youngest. The pride on Ross’s face falters when he gets to Eric. I planted the seed that made his daddy think less of him. How awful.

Mr. Cavanaugh turns, seeing me wince. He offers a conciliatory hug.

“Please don’t think less of him,” I beg in a whisper.

Upon hearing this, Ross grips me with both arms, steadying my still swaying feet. “We’re getting through this as a family,” he replies.

Miss Rose places a hand on my back. “You should be real proud of yourself. It was a lovely speech.” Another woman approaches her, asking if they can speak in private. “I’d be glad to talk to you tomorrow.” Rose takes in the six young faces as if we’re her priority and the gossiper walks away satisfied. It’s the most graceful and polite blow-off I’ve ever witnessed.

“Momma, everyone’s headed to the creek later?” Brier poses the question as if she’s asking permission and won’t sneak away and go.

“No, Sugar, I made it clear today was for family. You had your fun last night.”

“Bu—” The tiny girl pretends to be crestfallen.

“Don’t argue. It won’t change my mind.”

“What good is being an adult, if we can’t do what we want?”

“Oh, you can do what you want, but not so long as you girls live under my roof.” She regards Brier, me, and Daveigh—whose upper lip has curled into Colton’s trademark snarl. “Let’s go start dinner. Boys, don’t be running off. Your daddy will need help with the grill and I don’t need to remind you if…”

“…you don’t do your part in the kitchen, you can find your own food.” The quints chant in unison.

A boy from our class leans in to say something in Eric’s ear. His soccer teammates have been doing this since we arrived. Eric’s head is already down. He shakes it, ignoring the rest of what the young man asks, and moves through the crowd to the exit.

“Come on Gin, you’re riding back to Kingsbrier with me, Daveigh, and Momma.” Brier tugs at my black gown. “Got everything? Where’s your diploma and the nice plaque they gave you for bein’ so smart?”

“I must have lost it.”