Page 147 of Crew Princess
There was the introduction.
They played songs, music that I wouldn’t remember.
A speech from a faculty member.
A second speech.
We were all antsy, knowing this was a day we’d remember for years, but also wanting it to be done. I knew there were parties planned afterward. Both Jordan and Zellman had mentioned five different ones. Each of them would have their own party as well, the one their parents threw for them. Cross had refused when his mom offered to have one for him, so she was planning one for Taz next weekend. And Heather had asked if I wanted one too. I’d said no, but I knew they were planning something. Their friends were still in town. We never had that Friday BBQ, so I had a feeling whatever she was planning was going to replace it.
I waited for the speeches to get done, waited for them to say my name so I could walk across that stage and feel like I accomplished something, but the feeling felt cheap with me. I hadn’t participated, not fully.
I hadn’t embraced school. I went because I had to. I went because my crew was there, and even though I still wasn’t the happiest with Taz, because she was there too.
I was forced to be part of the events planning committee, and that was the biggest of my high school activities. The crew had been everything to me, and here I was. A dying breed.
It was Wolf Crew. We were the last.
“And now a speech from our valedictorian, Harrison Swartz!” Principal Broghers began the clapping, stepping back from the podium as Harrison approached.
He ran a hand down the front of his gown, a nervous habit because his tie wasn’t showing. Notecards still in hand, he cleared his throat. He took a deep breath. His shoulders rose.
He gripped the edges of the podium, and even from where I was, I could tell he was nervous.
Then—a real shocker—his eyes found mine.
My eyebrows rose.
Another breath from him, and he settled down.
He leaned forward into the microphone. “My name is Harrison Swartz, and I have a few things to say about our school…”
He mentioned students who’d won awards. He mentioned his favorite memories about winning the student council election, about what he’d learned being our class president. He thanked and noted teachers, a few janitors, some of the coaches. He congratulated a few of our sports teams who had won titles, set records, and gone to state to compete. He talked about the current year of politics, and then he paused, his eyes finding mine again.
His voice dropped, becoming more real, less smooth and polished. “I had a conversation with a person weeks ago that I had never spoken to before, and I never thought I would speak to.” He nodded at me. “Bren Monroe.”
I felt the attention. A few students in my row glanced down to me, and a few in front of me turned around.
“And it’s not because of the obvious differences between us. Bren is very beautiful, and while I’m academically successful, I can admit that I’m a bit of a geek.” There was a smattering of laughs. Harrison grinned, ducking his head a bit. “But that’s not the difference I’m talking about, because in normal schools, that would play a part in our vast separation. In another school, Bren might’ve been considered one of the popular girls. In another school, I might’ve been considered well, like I just said, a nerd. That didn’t happen here.”
He paused again, clearing his throat. His eyes grew serious. “When she came up to me, it was the first time I’d spoken to her. She asked if I was going to be sick.” He laughed lightly.
“I asked if you needed the bathroom,” I said under my breath.
The people beside me heard and chuckled.
“I introduced myself to her, explained who I was and the reason I was at that particular place,” he continued. “She thanked me for my service.” His grin grew. “That made me laugh because here I was, the definition of a geek, and there she was, the definition of ‘other’—and you can take that any way you’d like—but I never expected to be thanked for being student body president.” His grin faded. “Then she proceeded to call me out. It was as if she could see inside of me and was reading my biases against her and her friends. She told me I wished there were none like her in our school, but she also called me out on worrying about what life would’ve been like if theyhadn’tbeen there too. She was right. All of it. Ididhave stereotypes. I didn’t like having them in our school, but I benefited from them being there too. And then she stopped our conversation because she felt she was making me uncomfortable.”
A beat. “She was. She had been, but after she moved on, I remained speechless for a moment. I never imagined my first conversation with someone like Bren Monroe would go that way. What she never found out was that she changed my mind. I realized they’re like me. They have fears and insecurities and loves and likes. They’re on social media, though I actually don’t think Bren herself is.”
He nodded at me. “I think by now, everyone has picked up on what ‘them’ I’m referring to, and while I know there are varying opinions on the system I’m talking about, I can only speak to how they affected my experience as a student in Roussou. Because in Roussou, I wasn’t picked on. I wasn’t bullied in person or online. I didn’t have the typical jocks who might have called me lame or shoved me into a locker—that never happened here. And yes, there were scary moments over the years. Bouts of violence, but in a way, I always knew I was safe. I never walked my hallways worried about getting jumped. I never walked into a bathroom worried I’d get shoved in a toilet.Theykept each other in check, and in doing so, they kept everyone else in check. We didn’t really have popular people in our school. There’s always a few exceptions, but in a way, we were all the same. We were equal. We were Normals. And I was one of them.”
He paused. “I never told Bren that because of her, because of her group, because of her brother, we here were gifted an experience that no other high school was given. Roussou is not like other schools, and I am thankful because if it had been, I don’t know if I would be standing behind this podium, giving this speech, and going to Yale next year. So, thank you.” He stepped back, offered a small smile my way, and returned to his seat.
The clapping started. Then the cheering.
I had no words. He didn’t have to share that moment, but he had, with me, with my crew, with all the other crews. Jordan and Zellman were hollering the loudest. I gazed over to where Cross was sitting beside Taz, and he’d already been watching me. His eyes flashed. I saw pride there, and I gazed down. He was holding his sister’s hand, and she was crying, wiping away the tears with a Kleenex.
Race reached behind Cross’ chair, tugged on Taz’s gown, and she let go of her brother’s hand and linked with Race’s.
