Out of Order by Casey Lawrence Page A

I got some blood on them, so I guess I’ll just have to wing it!” Principal Sterner looked as though he might intervene, so I quickly fell into a more traditional speech, mentioning my academic record and my commitment to the school, outlining my prefect duties and fund-raising activities.
    As my eyes adjusted to the bright stage lights, I could see a few faces in the crowd, including my parents sitting in the front row. My dad was smiling fondly, which was encouraging. My mother had her lips pressed tightly together and looked like she might’ve been grinding her teeth every time I strayed from the speech she had painstakingly planned to portray me in the best possible light. I was the only female candidate, the only nonwhite candidate, and the youngest graduating student in the school. Although I mentioned none of these, I hoped they wouldn’t work to my disadvantage.
    “But most of all,” I added after what should have been the official end to my speech. “I care about this school. I care about the students, the teachers, the clubs. I wouldn’t be up here right now but for the fantastic support of my friends. We all come from different backgrounds, but we are here in this institution with a common goal of learning and bettering ourselves. A lot of that learning, I have to say, comes from everyday experiences. Today, I fell in the courtyard and thought—that’s it. My campaign is over. But my friends picked me up and cleaned me up, and one of them told me something that I need to share with you now.”
    The crowd murmured again, shifting around after my unusually long speech.
    “Our parents already did this. They have put certain expectations on us—to follow in their footsteps, to go to certain colleges, or get better grades than they did. Our parents put a lot of pressure on us!” I took a deep breath. “No offense, but who gives a shit about our parents right now?”
    There was a small gasp from the crowd. I imagined it coming from my mother and smiled with satisfaction. Principal Sterner started forward as though he was going to take away the mic, but I held up my hand at him— one second, please .
    “They aren’t in high school! They already got to do all this!” My speech was building in volume as I hurried to get what I wanted to say out. I didn’t want to have my mic taken away. “They don’t know what high school is like for us , only what it was like for them. So for those of you thinking about what your parents would say right now if they were hearing this speech, I have four words for you: It’s our turn now! ” I paused and took a deep breath. “Thank you. Vote Corinna Nguyen!”
    I sat down next to my competitors, who all looked suitably shell-shocked. I hadn’t heard their speeches, but judging from the looks on their faces, theirs had been the cookie-cutter “I get good grades! I do well at sports! I am a well-rounded person! Vote for me!” type. I couldn’t help but feel elated, even afterward, facing my parents.
    “What were you thinking?” my mother demanded as soon as she saw me, her eyes narrowed. “You could get disqualified for profanity!”
    “She won’t be disqualified,” Dad said, brushing my hair of out my face and tilting up my chin to get a better look at my nose. “Are you sure this isn’t broken? It’s rather swollen.”
    “Just bruised,” I assured him. “I’m okay.”
    He tutted but didn’t make a further fuss, instead shushing my mother’s objections and insisting we go out for ice cream as a family. “But school isn’t over for another hour. I’m supposed to be in biology,” I protested, but he waved me off.
    “My little girl gets ice cream after her big speech. No buts.” He walked over to where Principal Sterner was standing watching the students file back into the classrooms. “I’m signing out my daughter to have her nose tended to.”
    Sterner barely glanced at my father, bobbing his head in a dozen quick nods. “Yes, yes, of