Page 85 of Dropping the Ball

He glances up, and when he sees me, he plucks his earbuds out and stands. “Kaitlyn, how is your—”

“It’s fine.” I keep my eyes straight ahead, like I’m on my way to another very important meeting. “Congratulations,” I say as I leave the office.

“For what?”

I don’t answer, but I hear Mrs. Gaspard call his name. He’ll know soon enough.

And far too soon, I have to tell my parents that after holding the top spot for ninety-nine percent of high school, I lost it at the last minute. My stomach already hurts from imagining their reaction, and a headache is starting, making the dull throb around my nose feel like it’s extending all the way up to my scalp.

I don’t even know how to bring it up with them, but it comes out over dinner.

“How was school, sweetie?” Mom asks.

“I’m not valedictorian.”

Dad sets down his forkful of roast chicken. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m salutatorian.”

“When did this happen?” His eyebrows bunch and his cheeks turn ruddy.

“I found out today. It’s because I got a bad grade on my last calculus test.”

Mom has stopped eating too, her hand resting against her sternum in a loose fist, clutching for pearls she isn’t wearing. “The graduation announcements went out. They say you’re valedictorian.”

I stare at my plate. I know. She ordered a hundred of them. Many of those recipients will be at the ceremony next week to see their own kids or grandkids graduate. My name will still appear in the program. Just not in the spot advertised.

Dad throws down his napkin, dinner half-eaten. “Fantastic. Now all of our so-called friends can call me a liar about this too.” He pushes away from the table, not bothering to look at me.

“Gordon, please,” Mom says, but he storms out. She sighs. “That group filed another lawsuit against him this morning.”

I nod, my throat too tight to say anything.

“We really did not need this kind of negative publicity. There is no circumstance in which we can afford to look as if we’re telling people one thing when the truth is another.”

I look up, thinking I’ve missed a step. “My graduation announcement is publicity?”

“Isn’t it? You’ve just handed ammunition to everyone in our personal circle who wants to take a shot at us.”

With that, she pushes her plate away and leaves the table too.

I am left bleeding out.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Micah

Kaitlyn finishes her story,not looking at me. “Some wounds don’t heal.”

At some point during her story, I drew my legs up too. My wrists rest on my knees, and I rotate one, flexing and curling the fingers. I watch them as I say, “I have a couple of those. I get it.”

“It was bad enough to see the look on his face when I told him I wasn’t valedictorian,” she says. “But he was right. There were Hillview parents who made a point of saying things to him after the ceremony. ‘Beautiful announcements, but I thought Kaitlyn was the valedictorian.’ Thrilled to rub it in his face. I had to stand there and watch him take it, pretending like he wasn’t bothered, forcing himself to make a joke about how ‘calculus got the upper hand at the finish line.’”

“Kaitlyn, you didn’t fail.” I stop flexing my hand to rest it on her knee and give it a gentle squeeze. “I beat you.”

She whips her head to glare at me, but she wants to smile. She almost does. “Because you broke my nose.”

“That pole broke your nose when you walked into it because you were so into me.”

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