The Truth About Keeping Secrets(80)

Leo and I entered the gym just at the tail end of the ‘Alma Mater’. The standing crowd faced a stage a couple of feet off the ground; behind the stage, Pleasant Hills’ pennants, sports championships, and a massive tapestry depicting a purple panther, yellow eyes staring down. When the song ended, the bleachers groaned as everyone sat down. Everyone. People in Pleasant Hills came to graduation even if they didn’t have a kid who was graduating; it was a sign of town unity, community spirit – and it was exactly what we wanted. Everyone in one room.

I bet a lot of them came because they were looking forward to Heath Alderman’s speech.

Thankfully, no heads turned towards us as we snuck inside; all the graduation seniors were sitting facing the opposite way, and the sound of the doors opening was masked by the commotion. We scurried to the left, where there was a hallway that led to a set of stairs.

Which led to the projection booth.

‘You still have it?’ Leo whispered sharply from ahead as we made it to the staircase.

‘Ye of little faith.’

‘Just checking.’

The ceremony continued as we ascended, quickly enough not to waste time but slowly enough not to make too much noise. The principal had gone up to the microphone to introduce the next speaker. ‘Typically at this point in the ceremony,’ he began, ‘a speech would be given by the valedictorian of the graduating class, followed by the class president, but this year, we are lucky enough to have a student who has earned both honours. A very exciting time for Pleasant Hills High, and for our community. Truly, this kid’s a go-getter and we all can’t wait to see what he does next. It’s my pleasure to invite Heath Alderman to the microphone.’

Gross.

We’d made it to the door of the projection booth, where Olivia was waiting, wringing her wrists.

Leo muttered a thanks and zoomed past her, while I stood there, not really sure what to say, until Olivia wrapped me in a quick hug. ‘Go, go,’ she said. ‘Do the thing. Go.’ Then she disappeared down the stairs.

I followed Leo and jammed the USB stick into his hand.

‘Principal Stevens,’ Heath began below, ‘trustees, faculty members, family, friends and fellow graduates, today is truly a day of celebration. It is an honour to be here –’

Leo booted up the computer connected to the projector and stuck in the thumb drive, then cursed it for taking too long.

‘– to speak to the community, absolutely, but especially to address the incredible group of friends, peers and scholars with whom I’ve shared these halls for the past four years.’

Leo clicked his tongue while the monitor came to life.

‘Even though I stand before you today, I, believe it or not, do not know it all.’ This got a laugh from the audience. ‘Surprising, I know. So I’d like to avoid giving advice –’

I cautiously raised my head to the window, looked down at the graduates clad in bright purple robes below, then up past Heath – that’s where June was, salutatorian, sitting in her rightful spot on the stage. She deserved more. We met eyes and she gave me the faintest nod.

‘OK,’ Leo said. ‘Ready, ready, ready. Go.’

I pressed a switch on the control panel. The screen would only keep physically rolling down if the switch was held in place, so I positioned a stapler on top to weigh it down.

We fled. Rushed back downstairs to absolve ourselves of responsibility and to witness the chaos.

It worked. The video was running. But we needed the sound.

Heath’s speech faltered and he craned his neck up to watch the descending screen; he flashed a smile at the audience. ‘I promise I wasn’t going to bore you with a presentation!’ The audience laughed in that nervous way audiences do when something happens that wasn’t supposed to. Heath gestured up to the booth we’d vacated. ‘Sorry, folks, not sure what’s wrong. Can someone, please …?’ A random administrator nodded, and made their way to the back of the crowd, towards the stairs we’d just come down.

The video itself was mainly just darkness, and seeing it projected, my stomach sank. Nobody would understand what they were looking at. This was a complete waste of time.

But then I heard it.

‘I wanted to ask how it feels to know you’ve singlehandedly ruined everything,’ said Heath’s voice over the speakers. ‘Because you have. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. Oh, and your fucking faggot of a dad.’

Everyone froze.

Heath looked up at the screen in disbelief, then back to the audience, then back to the screen. He truly had no idea what to do, floundering, his arms at his sides and then up to his head and then back down, like he was short-circuiting – it was the most delicious thing I’d ever seen. ‘Everyone, there’s clearly some sort of technical …’ he said, as if that wasn’t very obviously him. His car. His voice. ‘His’ June.

The thud of my head bouncing off the dashboard.

‘You stop! You fucking stop! Holy shit, I can’t believe I’ve lost you to some dyke!’

The audience were in a state of disarray. They were one moving person, one collective being, twisting and revolting and shouting.

Heath wailed over the sound of his sins. ‘Folks, I’m sorry, I have no idea what this is!’

And just behind him was June. Everyone by now had understood the connection, that June was a part of this, too, and the crowd, in between watching Heath melt after being doused with water, was looking to her for guidance: what to do, where to look, how to feel. She gave them nothing except a small, closed-mouth smile that if considered would probably have told them everything they needed to know.