On Top

CW: Implications of murder and blood. Viewer discretion is advised.

Well, class of 2025, we did it! We reached the end! I’m so glad to see all of you here, smiling despite definitely sweating in your robes, so full of life and anticipation for your futures. It was rough this year, believe me, but you’re still graduating together, and for that I’m so proud. Give yourselves a round of applause!

Now, I had a different speech planned, a version I’d been dreaming up since, what, eighth grade? Yes, I know, nerd alert! You can laugh but, really, I’ve dreamt of this day for years. I planned everything out to a tee— my dress, my makeup, my speech— and most of it has stayed true to that vision! The only thing that needed updating was the speech. My values have changed a lot since eighth grade and I want to give a speech that truly reflects me. So, here goes nothing.

Anyone who knows me knows how obsessed I was with my grades. I skipped parties to study until the idea of doing another equation made me physically ill, got into more than a few heated debates with classmates over the ‘correct’ way to do something, and was always jumping to answer questions given to the class. I wanted to be on top. I shot for the Top 100 and fought for Valedictorian. Well, I got it, and I am over the moon! I am so, so honored to be your Valedictorian, but that’s not all of me.

Sure, I was the nerdy girl who skipped parties in favor of better test grades, but did you know I really liked video games? When studying finally wore me down, I’d pack up my materials, plug in my controller, and hop into GTA or Legend of Zelda or, heck, even just Animal Crossing! It was my favorite way to unwind. Oh, and I also did ‘get out sometimes—’ looking at you, Justin— with friends. We’d catch new movies, hit up new stores near us, and go to the same diner once we got hungry. The waiters knew all our names after a while. They even knew what we were going to order! We rarely, if ever, even had to ask!

You all know I planned to major in software engineering— with my love for video games, I’m sure you understand why, now— but I had planned to also minor in creative writing. Yeah, big difference from software engineering. All that time I spent reading made me realize that, hey, maybe I could write a book, too! I had a few pieces in progress, though I doubt they’ll ever see the light of day now. I had wanted the minor, though, so I could harness my craft and, well, see if I could do it. Like video games, I hoped it would break up some of the stress of my major— who knows, though?

I say all of this to say, in so many words, don’t judge a book by its cover. I knew kids who didn’t have the best grades, but blew their peers away with their artwork! I mean, we all see those incredible murals painted around the school. How many of us can say we’re able to do that? Some of the kids I took math with over the years had really great marks, but hated the class because they felt it was too restrictive or generally boring— no offense, teachers! We love you! I knew athletes who kicked butt out on the field, but still went to tutoring several times a week because they knew keeping their grades up meant staying on their beloved team. I tutored several of them, actually! They’re seen as jocks, but many of them just love their sport and don’t want to lose it. I could keep going, but I think you get my point.

You rarely, if ever, see all of someone. You see the parts they let you see and, sometimes, you can catch glimpses of what they’re trying to hide. That’s why it’s so important to be kind to everyone or, at the very least, show them basic respect and human decency. You don’t have to like everyone, but it doesn’t give you a right to hurt them by calling them names or getting close to them only to stab them in the back. You’d be surprised— or maybe you wouldn’t, actually— to hear I’ve experienced that.

Now, I know I’m going on and on, so let’s get to wrapping this up, shall we? I have a lot of gratitude to show, starting with my mom and dad, who encouraged me to always do better than the last time and to never settle. They helped me gain the confidence I needed to commit to my major and were my biggest cheerleaders when it came to getting through my classes. I, literally, would not have gotten this far without you. I also have to thank all of my friends for everything you’ve done for me. Since we’ve met, you’ve always been there to laugh with me, let me cry on your shoulders, and whine about my homework. You’ve picked me up when I was down and pushed me to keep going when everything seemed hopeless. I hope we’ll make time for some more karaoke nights and gossip sessions no matter what our futures hold. Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank all of my teachers throughout the years. You taught me everything I know now and then some. You’ve been so encouraging and, though sometimes the homework made me want to throw myself off the bridge and into the lake in the forest just off the highway, I know it was for a good reason, so, thank you. I’ll never forget your kindness.

There’s one more person that deserves a special mention— Lyra Vale. Oh, Lyra, you and I have been rivals since the beginning. We always fought for the top spot, from scented stickers in elementary school to our GPAs at the end of senior year. We were around each other so much and fighting so often that, hand of god, people thought we were secretly in a lesbian relationship. You taught me, firsthand, the meaning of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ You were a force to be reckoned with, yet you were also my greatest motivator. I so wanted to be better than you that I pushed myself to work harder, think smarter, and try even more things. I wouldn’t have run for class president our sophomore year if you hadn’t told me I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t have dared to take AP physics if you hadn’t bragged you were taking it, too. I don’t think I ever would’ve become Valedictorian if I hadn’t had you on my tail these last four years. As crazy as it sounds, I’m grateful for you and I admired you, once. You were so driven despite me fighting you at every turn, so resilient in the face of animosity, yet you were still just half a step behind me. You were second best and I know it hurt you.

I didn’t want things to end the way they did— not just for me, but for you as well. You’re so much more than a title. I wish you’d been able to see that. When they announced us as Valedictorian and Salutatorian, you were so quiet. People tried to tell you congratulations, but you ignored them. I wanted to tell you something but, for once, I couldn’t find the words. For you, not getting Valedictorian was the end of the world, despite the fact you got accepted to your dream college and were pursuing a major I know you adored. I wish I could’ve known what was happening in your head. I wish I could’ve changed our story.

My graduation dress was a blush pink, asymmetrical, chiffon dress that fell just below my knees. It had a v-neck outlined with light ruffles that flowed like wings whenever I twirled in it. I was going to pair it with matching platform sandals that I probably would’ve taken off by the end of the night. I planned to wear a gold sakura necklace around my neck and cover my wrists with bracelets and bangles. I even wanted to put an anklet on. That dress is still hanging in my closet, only ever seen on me by my mirror and parents, the sandals are still in their box, and the jewelry is still in my jewelry box. I would’ve done a light base for my makeup before covering myself in glitter, from my lids to my lips. I only got to try that look a few times. All the products are sitting on my vanity, ready for a day that will never come. My speech— I had already submitted it and gotten it approved and everything.

Yet here I stand before you all with a different speech, my face caked with dirt and covered in wounds, and blood soaking through my outfit from last week. I know every word I’ve said has fallen on deaf ears. My parents are silent in the bleachers, barely registering the ceremony. My friends’ mascara is running in streaks down their faces. My teachers are as professional as ever, but there’s a dullness in their eyes. Someone in the crowd of students whispers, “Kelsey should be up there.”

For a few exhilarating weeks, I was your Valedictorian. I was on top but, Lyra, you were so desperate, so far gone. You made me disappear so you could finally be the best— no ‘second’ lingering before it. You’re up at the podium, reciting your speech with your dazzling smile and crisp words, yet clutching your papers a little too tightly and laughing a little too much. You know that they know, but nobody can bring enough evidence. Congratulations, Lyra. You got everything you wanted.

And so, as you prepare to close out your time here, remember to keep shooting for the stars and to be a little kinder to those around you. Forget about me, your once-Valedictorian, and live. Live because you’re not promised tomorrow. You’re here today, so make it count. Congratulations, class of 2025! I’m so proud of you.