panic, I ran back. But it wasn't there!
Maddeningly frantic, I ran up and down the corridor, questioning every girl in the line, but no one knew anything.
'What's up?' Claude asked.
'My speech is missing. Someone took it when I went to the bathroom,' I told him.
'No kidding. What are you going to do?'
'I don't know.'
I turned to Catherine. She looked as if she wanted to say something but was too afraid. I spun around, desperate. Mr. Stegman, the teacher in charge of the procession, was ordering me to get in place.
'I can't find my speech!' I told him. 'I had it with me when I went into the bathroom, but it's not there!'
'Oh, dear,' he said and went to fetch Dr. Foster, the principal.
'Did you look real good, Pearl? Go back and check once more,' he suggested. 'I'll hold the procession back a few more minutes.'
I gazed at Catherine.
'It has to be there,' she offered. A horrid thought occurred to me. I returned to the bathroom and threw open the stall next to the one I had used. There was my speech, floating in the toilet.
'Oh, no!' I cried and dipped into the water to retrieve it. Many of the words had been washed away. I wiped down the paper as carefully as I could with a towel and then went out to take my place at the head of the procession.
'You found it?' Dr. Foster asked.
I held up the soggy sheets.
'How did that happen?'
'Yes,' I said loud enough for everyone in my class to hear. 'How did it happen?'
My heart was pounding so hard I thought I was sure to make a fool of myself in front of all the families and guests. I don't know how my legs carried me down the corridor and out the door, but I had no choice.
I really didn't have time to worry about myself. We marched to the stage that had been erected outside for our graduation exercises and took our seats. I tried not to look at the audience. There was so much noise—laughter, chatter, babies crying, small children being warned to sit quietly—that it sounded like bedlam. No one would hear my speech anyway, I thought. Why worry?
We had a warm, bright day for our ceremony with a light breeze that made the flag flutter and strands of hair dance over our shoulders. The sky was turquoise with patches of fluffy clouds. In the distance I could hear the bellow of the steamboats preparing to carry tourists up the Mississippi.
After the introductions and some short remarks by our principal, I was called to the lectern. My legs wobbled as I stood up. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and walked to the lectern. My classmates were dead silent, all wondering what I would do. I searched the audience until I found Mommy gazing at me confidently, and then the words just came. I didn't need to look at the paper. The words were printed in my head.
To my surprise, everyone had grown quiet. I raised my head, took a deep breath, and began. I thanked the principal and then, addressing the faculty and our parents, families, and friends, began in a voice that grew stronger and stronger as I delivered the speech I had composed over the past few days. Amazingly, once I started, the words flowed. From time to time I gazed at the faces in the audience and saw that people were really listening. Most wore sweet, appreciative smiles. The twins were staring up at me, both with their mouths slightly open, neither fidgeting.
When I concluded, the applause boomed in my ears, and when I looked at Mommy and Daddy, I saw the glow in their faces. Even Pierre and Jean looked impressed. They stopped clapping at the exact same moment, and when I returned to my seat, I gazed at Claude and saw him smiling proudly and elbowing his buddies to make them jealous. Diane Ratner and her friends looked devastated, but Catherine hugged me quickly.
'That was great. I knew you could do it, no matter what. I actually listened to the whole thing, even though I didn't understand some of it.'
'Thanks,' I said dryly. I didn't want her to think I was satisfied with her weak demonstration of friend-ship. She had disappointed me.
I sat back as the principal and our class adviser went to the lectern to hand each of us our diploma. When I rose to get mine, the audience gave me another thunderous ovation. Daddy was snapping pictures, and the twins were waving and cheering.
'Nice job, young lady,' the principal said. 'Good luck.'
I thanked him and smiled at my parents one more time for Daddy's camera.
After the ceremony I was inundated with compliments on my speech. All of my teachers stopped by, as did some of my classmates and their parents, to offer their best wishes. I was happy to see that my aunt Jeanne—the sister of Mommy's half brother, Paul—and her husband, James, were there and were waiting to congratulate me, too.
Aunt Jeanne was the only member of the Tate family who had anything to do with us. She was about an inch or so taller than Mommy, with dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Mommy said that Aunt Jeanne looked more like her mother, Gladys, than her father, Octavious, because she had her mother's deep, dark complexion, sharp chin, and nearly perfect nose. I liked her because she was always pleasant and sweet to us and especially sweet to me.
'I loved your speech, Pearl honey' Aunt Jeanne said, hugging me.
'It was something,' Uncle James added, nodding. He shook Daddy's hand. 'You have a lot to be proud of, Beau.'
