meepster
The gal haunting your dreams
When people think of high school homecoming, they probably think of something like that. Well, welcome to Goddard, we don’t operate like that. For one, it’s the day before spring break, not Halloween weekend. Every single person in this school, faculty and staff included, can’t wait to get out of the stuffy oppresive prison that is high school. The senior class? They’re going on a trip to Ibiza, courtesy of all of the families pooling in their money, though they don’t need it. Two fabulous weeks of booze, romance, a giant yacht, and a shit ton of money spent. More than the average American could ever spend in their lifetime, if you ask me. But that’s not now. For now, it’s the actual homecoming party.
The sons of billionaires, of royal families, dukes and duchesses, to tech and real estate moguls have all arrived. Even the Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Columbia deans are here, each with their respective children. It’s a party for high society. The scholarship kids….were given the wrong address. Whoops, sorry not sorry. It’s about 1000 people packed into a massive lodge in downtown Manhattan, chattering and drinking and having a fuck good time. Of course, the PTA has kindly provided food…some made themselves…some made to go by New York’s finest Michellin-star chefs.
It was about 7:30 at night, and the homecoming celebration was expected to go to about 10. But every year at Goddard, there’s a speech, there’s always a speech. And this year wouldn’t be any different. A single clank of a china fork against a pristine wine glass shook the speech giver, however much he hated it, out of his reverie. He’d practiced this a million times. He’d be fine. The speech part at least, hopefully the projector wasn’t malfunctioning like it did when the Columbia dean’s parrot ate it last year. Not joking.
Sighing, wiping down the hems of his clean Armani navy blazer, Jess reluctantly walked up to the podium, to a roaring ramble of applause. “I don’t know how to say ‘shut up’ to a bunch of adults nicely, so please…quiet down.” All of them burst out laughing as he stood there awkwardly, adjusting the mic. “Okay. So…when I wrote this speech, however many months ago, I had no idea that I would be here. For those of you who don’t know, and if you can’t tell, catch the accent, I’m originally from Cuba. And there…me and my mother, love you, Mom, were dirt-poor. But no matter how fucked up her life choices may have been, excuse my Spanish, she brought me here.” He actually looked like he was starting to cry, staring down at the front row. “Now…7 or 8 years later…we’ve really been through it all as a senior class. We’ve won some, we’ve lost some, we’ve been accepted to our dream college, we’ve had all our hopes and dreams thrown out the window. We’ve been forced to do things we’ve never thought we’d do. We’ve been forced to take risks we’d never thought we’d take, even though we’d be dead if they knew. But we’re still standing here, and we’re still alive at 18 and kicking! So, for all you alum returning, Goddard has not gone off the deep end. I-I promise…we will carry on your legacy.” He turned to the other seniors in the audience, screaming into the mic. “WILL WE?”
A loud roar of cheering once again went up. Jess glanced at the big red button besides him, the one that would play the video of all of the senior class’s experiences over the past 8 years. He took a deep breath, hoping no parrot would have broken it, and clicked PLAY.
Little did he know….it wasn’t a parrot…it was so much worse.
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