Projection Read Free

as if to say,
not now
, but enough was enough. Gretchen turned around in her seat, careful not tomove her head so much that her cap fell off. Ariel’s dirty blonde hair had been blown out into a flip that grazed the tops of her shoulders. Her emerald eyes were rimmed in dark brown eyeliner. Gretchen hated to admit that the girl was beautiful.
    “Will you just shut up?” she hissed. “You’re ruining my graduation.”
    Ariel smirked. “
Your
graduation?”
    “Give it up, Ariel,” Jessica chimed in, simultaneously trying to steer Gretchen back to face forward. “Nobody’s interested.”
    “Really?” Ariel’s voice rose. “Then why are we having this conversation?”
    Onstage, Gretchen’s mom fumbled with an envelope. “On behalf of the Oculus Society, I’m pleased to announce that the winner of this year’s Plotinus Award, which includes a five hundred dollar savings bond to be put toward college, is …” She held the paper at arm’s length so she could see it. It was something she’d been doing a lot lately. Reading glasses were out of the question, however. She was only forty-five. Her mother was not a big believer in succumbing to the aging process. As her eyes registered what was on the paper, she placed a hand over her mouth and then laughed. “Oh, my goodness. I swear, I had nothing to do with this, it’s the faculty and administration who make the decision … Gretchen Harris!”
    Her mother’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers.
    Gretchen whirled to find her classmates and the rest of the crowd staring at her and applauding. The red mortarboard on her head started to slide. Despite the shock and confusion, she reached up and caught it, expertly adjusting the bobby pin once again.
    “I knew you’d win!” Jessica whispered excitedly. She squeezed her arm. “You were a shoo-in!”
    Mr. Tobin stepped in front of the microphone. “Congratulations, Gretchen! Would you please stand up?”
    Gretchen mustered a gracious smile and stood. Her heart thumped. She offered an embarrassed bow and wave to the crowd. But even with all of the cheering and clapping, she still could hear Ariel grumbling behind her.
    “Well, now graduation’s been ruined for me, too. So I guess we’re even.”
    Gretchen’s face was starting to hurt from smiling. Every time she thought she’d posed for her last picture, someone else ran up to her.
I’ve gotta have a picture with the class president!
they all explained, as if it were the same thing as having a picture taken with the President of the United States. As she faced yet another camera, she felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. She’d miss middle school. She’d worked hard, and it wasn’t going to be easy to start at the bottom again as a freshman at the high school. On the other hand, how hard could it be? Some of Delphi’s wealthiest sent their kids to private schools, even boarding schools down the California coast or in New England. But the true elite sent their kids to the only public school in town because the Oculus Society’s primary mission was to improve public education. Gretchen’s mom and Jessica’s aunt and all the rest of them poured their hearts and souls and fundraising efforts into making Delphi High a shining example. Very noble and very convenient.
And worth every penny of the real estate tax
, Mom always said, whatever that meant.
    Finally, after the last of the obligatory pictures had been taken and her classmates had gravitated back to their usual cliques, she grabbed Jessica.
    “Come here,” she said. “You’re the only person in this entire school I haven’t taken a picture with today.”
    “The only one? Really?” Jessica asked, arching an eyebrow. “Will I be seeing a picture of you and Ariel up on Facebook later, then?”
    Gretchen made a mock-serious face. “Absolutely. And the caption’s going to say: buy a sweater because hell
has
frozen over!”
    Jessica smirked, then threw her arm around Gretchen’s shoulder. Together