Chapter 4: The Grand Gesture

Auburndale, Florida

2016

               Dylan Duke was head over heels, through the roof, beyond belief in love, and the object of his affection was none other than his carpool buddy and chemistry partner, Jill Caruthers. Jill Caruthers! Her name was like music. He could hear his friend Mahalo in his head. Dude! Girl can’t sing and you think her name is like music? That’ s messed up.  True, Jill was a tad tone deaf, but who cared? If he wanted to hear a girl sing, he’d turn on Taylor Swift. She was perfect even if she wrecked songs. Having just replaced the rubber bands on his braces, Dylan laid on his bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling, his smile as wide as his orthodontia would permit. He knew at eighteen he was young to want to declare it, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to shout to the world that he loved Jill. He’d rehearsed to himself all the arguments why it was foolish for him to think he’d already met the one person in the world that was meant for him: He was too young to buy beer, he’d seldom left Polk County, and he currently had the arms of a snowman. Who knew who might be interested in him once he started hitting the gym? It was entirely possible there was some amazing girl out there, possibly in Sweden, he hadn’t met yet, and when he did, he would discover what true love felt like.

Not even slightly possible.

Yes, he was young, but he knew deep down, just like the way he knew he wanted to be a game designer, that Jill Caruthers was the girl for him. The trouble was, Jill had not only friend zoned him, she’d buddied him, which though a subtle difference was worse. Your friend is someone you enjoy spending time with, but your buddy is like your high-school sherpa. Hey, Dylan, grab that duffle and put it my car, and while you’re at it, top of my tank.  I’m good for it.  Dylan rubbed his finger across the metal fittings on his front teeth as that thought clouded his happiness. Maybe it was worse than he thought. Maybe he wasn’t her high-school sherpa, maybe he was just a worker bee, which would make her the queen and him highly replaceable.

Dylan sat up, his chest pounding from a surge of panic. He couldn’t be an insignificant drone to her. He had to show her that he wanted to be her King Bee. Were there King Bees? It didn’t matter! The point was he was in love with Jill and needed to let her know it.  He could just tell her, like in between classes. Hey, guess what? I think you’re my soulmate. Or he could text her. I luv u 4 real. He could go old school and write her a letter and send it in the mail. But he knew Jill and that anything like that she would turn into a joke. Dylan, you’re so funny! She’d say and slug him in the arm. He was convinced that only way to get her to take him seriously was to do something big.

Very big.

He started to brainstorm. Hiring a plane to spell I love you Jill was the first idea that came to mind, but how many Jills were out there who would think the message was for them? No, there had to be something better. Something bigger. Parachuting to her with a dozen roses. The big problem there was he was terrified to jump out of a plane, not to mention the likelihood of the roses getting ripped from his hand and scattering like pollen in the wind. Dylan groaned. “Come on, man!” he said. “Think!” And it was just about then that he spotted his stack of graduation announcements stamped, ready to send out. His parents were ecstatic he was valedictorian of his graduating class and would therefore be speaking at commencement. They had insisted on ordering two hundred announcements, which meant even distant cousins he’d only met once would get one. That was fine. Like his parents often said, graduation was a big deal.

A big deal. Suddenly, not a lightbulb, but the floodlights of an entire stadium went off in Dylan’s head and he let out a cry of victory until his dad told him to zip it. He had the perfect idea to tell Jill he loved her!  Just then, his phone buzzed. It was Mahalo.

Hungry. My mom’s on a kale kick. Coming over to eat your food.

Dylan texted back a thumbs up then punched the air. When his friend got to his house he’d tell him his plan!

               “I know what I’m going to do!”

               “Cool,” said Mahalo, opening a cupboard, “because I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to finish off your Doritos.”

               “I’m talking about Jill!”

               “Jill’s great,” said Mahalo, taking the clip off the bag of chips.

               “Of course, she’s great! That’s why I love her!” said Dylan.

Mahalo winced. “There you go throwing that word around like it’s not a stick of dynamite.”

               “Bro, I know how I feel. I love her,” said Dylan hopping up on the kitchen counter.
               “Well, that’s a little awkward,” said Mahalo, in between chewing, “because the last time I checked she was flirting Garrett Buford and he was flirting back.”

               “It’s because she doesn’t know how I feel,” said Dylan, tugging at his shirt.

               “So, once you tell her she’s going to be like, Dylan Duke! Holy crap! I love you too!” said Mahalo. He laughed hard and gave his friend a withering look. “You crazy.”

               “I’m not crazy,” said Dylan. “And I know what to do to show her I love her.”

               “Which is?” asked Mahalo, his mouth filled with chips.

               “Something big!”

               “Here’s my advice.” He paused to chew. “write her a letter, get all your feelings on the page, and then send it…down the toilet,” said Mahalo.          

               “You know what, I’m not telling you. You’re going to have to see it like everyone else.”

               Mahalo tilted his head back and sighed. “Dude, don’t do anything stupid.”

               “It won’t be stupid. It will be spectacular,” said, Dylan, lovingly looking at the kitchen lights.

               Mahalo shoved his Dylan. “Snap out of it!”

               Dylan shoved Mahalo. “No, you snap out of it!” he cried and lunged at his friend.

                Mahalo who was naturally lazy but also a natural athlete, quickly put Dylan in a headlock. “I’m trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself!” he said as Dylan struggled to break free.

               “There’s nothing,” he said through gritted teeth, “embarrassing about…admitting you’re in love!”

               Mahalo let go and Dylan stumbled forward a little. “Do you have a cold fish?” asked Mahalo, opening the refrigerator and having a look around.

“Why?”

“Slapping you in the face with one might get you to wake up,” he said, closing the fridge.

“I know what I’m doing!” cried Dylan.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but that dopey grin you’re wearing is speaking volumes. And do you know what it’s telling me?”

“What?”

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t.”

“You’re wrong,” said Dylan. “You’ve never been more wrong.”

               Graduation day, Dylan was seated on the stand next to Vice Principal Mussel, a man legend at the school for ruining fun.  Because of him, dance offs during lunch were canceled, and pizza replaced with veggie burgers. As Principal Jenkins droned on about bloodhounds soaring like eagles, Mussel gave a sideways glare to Dylan who was relentlessly shaking his legs.

               “Hold still, Duke,” Mussel growled, under his breath. “Fear of public speaking is a weakness. Get over it.”

               “I’m not nervous,” said Dylan, his voice low. “I’m excited.”

               “About what?” whispered Mussel, inclining his head toward Dylan. “After high school it’s all downhill. Trust me.”

               Dylan caught sight of Jill seated with the honors students and a smile spread across his face.

               “We’ll see about that,” said Dylan.

               “And now,” said Principal Jenkins, not trusting the mic and unnecessarily leaning toward it, “it will be our pleasure to hear from Auburndale High School’s 2016 class valedictorian, Dylan Duke.”

               Hoots and applause followed Dylan to the podium. Mixed with the chorus of Yo Duke! Duuuke! Dylan could hear Mahalo shouting a reminder to not do anything stupid.

“Wassup guys,” he said to his classmates all dressed in graduation robes and mortarboards, a greeting which made them cheer. He lowered his head and chuckled. He knew what they were expecting--a speech, one in which Dylan rehearsed his favorite moments during high school and laid out his plan for the future. They expected to hear something about bloodhound pride and how Auburndale High had made him a better citizen. In other words, they expected to scroll their phones until, at last, his speech came to an end. Their phones would be would out, he thought, but instead of scrolling they’d be recording, because what he had planned was something they’d never forget.

He had weighed this moment carefully. Sure, it was a risk, but you had to risk big to win big. His heart keeping pace with a rabbit’s, he tried to remember who had taught him that. It wasn’t his father. He was great, but a man who played it safe. He would have to think about that. Remember who it was and thank them for the excellent advice. But now it was showtime!

“Students, faculty, parents, and honored guests, as the valedictorian of the Bloodhound class of 2016, I declare that it’s time to celebrate!” Dylan hit a button and streamers fell from the Auburndale Community Center’s ceiling. Whatever gasp rippled through the audience was drowned out by Two Path’s latest hit, Don’t Hold Back. It blared from the speakers as performers from the Auburndale Flea Circus bounded down the aisles, flipping, waving ribbons, some holding snakes, one holding a sloth. Dylan couldn’t remember ordering the sloth.

As they performed, Principal Jenkins clutched his tie. Mussel stood up and tried to get to Dylan, but a shirtless man in spandex balancing an acrobat on his head, pointed for him to sit down, and Mussel obeyed. Auburndale High class of 2016 was on its feet cheering and taking video. But Dylan was just getting started. He’d blown his entire savings on this moment and it was going to be huge.

The song changed to The Broken Birds’ latest hit, Moments With You, and the entire graduating class, except for a few emo holdouts, began singing from the top of their lungs and jumping up and down. The circus, the music, the graduates joy. It was all part of the celebration, and so was the cable a circus roadie connected to Dylan. 

Dylan felt a tug at first and then his feet were off the stage and he was soaring upward, singing along with the graduates as he flew above them, like a graduating angel. And just as the song came to a close, he was lowered until he was floating in front of Jill. Now was his moment, and he didn’t hesitate.

“It’s time to step boldly into the future, so it goes. I love you, Jill Caruthers!” he cried. A hush fell over the crowd. Suddenly, the only sound was the pulley squeaking above Dylan.

The lady holding a snake handed Jill a mic and motioned for her to respond. Jill cleared her throat. “That is sweet,” she said. Jill tried to scratch the top of her head but her mortarboard was in the way. “Thank you.”

The circus roadie working the cable, took this as his cue to hoist Dylan upward and deposit him on the stand, the pulley’s squeaking intensifying along with his embarrassment. Shortly after his feet touched down on the stage, he remembered the camel. There had been an upcharge to include it in the circus package, but he’d been willing to fork over the cash to show Jill how much he loved her. As the camel handler, who appeared thirteen, struggled to keep his charge from eating the potted plants, a murmer went through the crowd as they read the banner the camel was wearing. Marry me!

“Wait!” cried Dylan. “It’s not supposed to say that!” Which was true. He’d asked that the sign say, I love you! But the circus crowd isn’t much for dotting i’s and crossing t’s, and so when it came time to apply the sequins, the costume seamstress just went for it.   It was hard to know what people found more shocking the proposal or the camel. Yes, no one wants to get engaged at their high school graduation, but the camel was on a rampage, dragging his handler around the room, pooping, doing its worst. Screams rippled wherever he ambled until, at last, he bounded through the exit. 

And shortly after the camel left, so did Jill.

Principal Jenkins tapped the microphone. “Well,” he said, his speech painfully slow as usual, “that was a grand gesture. Now for the presentation of the graduates.”

As the circus performers filed out, Auburndale High class of 2016 stepped over camel dung to receive their diplomas. Dylan Duke, who was already on the stand, was supposed stay seated until his name was called, which meant Vice Principal Mussel had a moment to give him an earful.

“That was quite possibly the worst idea anyone has ever had. Whatever chance you had with that girl, which wasn’t much, you just blew to smithereens. You’re the dumbest--”

Dylan considered rushing off the stage, but Jenkins was halfway through the C’s.  His name would be called soon, and though his parents appeared mortified by their son’s grand gesture, they still had their phones out waiting for the moment when he received his diploma. His face aflame with embarrassment, Dylan stayed put, listening to Mussel’s insults, until, at last, his imagination provided an escape. Daydreaming, he saw himself and the Vice Principal Mussel playing catch with a ball that, at his command, turned into a sledgehammer and crushed the vice principal. An unimportant idea. Later, when it became the spark for his first gaming success, he would see it differently, but at the moment it was just a way to blow off steam.

Again, not trusting the mic, Principal Jenkins tapped it. “And lover boy himself, Dylan Duke,” said Principal Jenkins.

“Shut up, Jenkins!” cried Mahalo, and as Vice-Principal Mussel stormed over to Mahalo, grabbed him by the robe and escorted him out of the Auburndale Civic Center, the two friends exchanged a smile. It said a lot of things. Things like, You were right, I shouldn’t have done it, and that’s okay, we all make mistakes, but we’re cool. Nothing can change that.