I could not get any more nervous than I was at the moment. My insides were practically melting. And my head was spinning and disintegrating and seeming to have lost the ability to think.

“Do you have any idea how queer you are?”

I glanced at the girl beside me. She wasn’t looking so I set my eyes back on the multitude before us. “How so?”

“You’re a topnotch freak and yet you shudder being infront of many people.” I heard her chuckle. “How did you manage the IAC?”

“The IAC was different,” I said. “It was just like answering a test but infront of many students.”

“I don’t see the difference, to be honest.”

“The difference, Sojin, is that I am about to deliver a fifteen-minute speech any time now and my parents are there in the frontlines, judging so hard -"

“They’re not judging -"

“- and the entire student body will be listening and the faculty, the Head Principal…”

“You’re overreacting.”

“And you.”

“What about me?”

“You’ll be listening, too.”

“So?”

“So,” I breathed, “it’s making me nervous as well.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Luhan. I’m not nearly as good as you are in public speaking.”

She had no idea these jitters had nothing to do with skills, did she? “I’m not even good in public speaking.”

“Exactly,” she chuckled. “Now imagine me worse.”

“You haven’t heard yourself talk to people then.”

She scoffed. “I don’t talk to people, all right?”

“You talk to me. And to Lichen and Yixing and Baekhyun and many others; are they not people?”

“They’re friends, Luhan.” I sensed her smile. “It’s different.”

She was right. And as I was trying to recall the main points for my speech, I realized I was feeling so much better. I looked at Sojin, my heart pounding.

She didn’t return my gaze but she smiled. She just made me feel better. She knew me too well.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

She stood then. “Anytime.” She proceeded to the center of the stage, bowing at the Head Administrator upon receipt of her diploma. She descended the staircase and then rounded the neatly lined huddle of graduates to return to her seat beside mine. Her family name had already been called, which meant there weren’t many students left.

Soon it was Zhang Yixing’s turn and I felt my insides churn accordingly. The alphabet was down to its final letter. And I was down to my last breath.

When the moment did come for me to deliver the culminating speech, I was already numb of emotions. My mind blanked and my lips did as rehearsed. I had practiced my tone to not sound like it was practiced, and that I delivered, too. I didn’t think I had forgotten anything of essence, but I did witness the undivided attention the eyes of my fellow graduates showcased. Somewhere towards the end, when it was time to return the gratitude to the people who had made high school possible - parents, teachers, guardians, school staff - I darted the space between where my parents were settled. I did not meet their eyes but I could tell they were focused on me because there really wasn’t anybody else to focus on at the moment. They were unmoving, as I had expected, like they were being inattentive. But I knew it wasn’t the case. In fact, when I was still living with them, their attention was always pinned only on me. They barely commented on anything I did, but they knew - if I was right or wrong, if I was hurting or not, if I was happy or sullen - they knew.

I wanted to see their expressions, but I was terrified that it might break my momentum and ruin the perfect flow, thus far, of my speech. So I trailed my gaze across the seemingly endless wave of parents, then towards the faculty and once again to my fellow graduates.

The Head Administrator replaced me by the podium then. My ears barely registered the round of applause resonating around the hall. I just wanted to sit down and forget I ever did what I just did.

“They were so proud,” Sojin muttered beside me when I had finally settled back in my chair. “I’m proud.” Her voice was smiling and sincere and I cherished every moment of it.

It was still a little overwhelming emerging as the top student in our class. There was no close call. I was quite ahead with everybody else - Sojin included - by a few good points. I didn’t even expect it. Maybe I had expected to be at least nearly at par with Sojin, not leaps ahead of her. She was second, undoubtedly. But even after accounting all of the other extra-curricular points, I was still above her. I had thought her championing the IAC would push her gargantuan steps ahead, which wouldn’t be a problem really, but it didn’t.

The most surprising part of all was the fact that Sojin was so happy for me. She was too happy in fact that I had started to doubt the genuineness of it. But she was Sojin and it wouldn’t be out of her character to rejoice for others. She had even hugged me and I would have felt elated for the rest of the evening that she did it in front of so many seniors, but she had given Yixing and Baekhyun and perhaps every other male friend she had the same affectionate gesture that the magic I had felt over her touch eventually disappeared. Regardless, she was genuinely full of bliss. Running second didn’t seem to matter to her. But then again, sporting any rank probably didn’t matter at all.

The awarding of honors came shortly after all the other program segments were finished. The academic honors and then the extra-curricular awards. And then finally, the special awards. Each culminating year, the school awarded two people for exceptionally upholding the school’s reputation and for having brought honor to it. One male and one female, and neither identity were to be announced until during graduation day, today.

“Lu Han.”

I wasn’t sure which voice I heard first, the Head Administrator’s as she announced it to a now applauding audience or Sojin’s as she muttered the name as though it were a given.

I was the male special awardee. Quite ironically, what only made the award special was the fact that Sojin had expected it to be me and that she was right. I couldn’t start to imagine my devastation if she were proven wrong.

I clasped her shoulder once as I rose from my seat and proceeded to receive the award. This time, I had risked looking at my parents. I didn’t regret it. Looming above them was pride so majestic that it probably towered over the neighboring parents as well. My mother was smiling, her eyes soft and full of understanding. My father’s expression was smug, but it was forced, because I knew deep down, he was pleasantly smiling as well. It was all that I could ask for.

When the time came for the female awardee to be announced, I was eagerly wishing for Sojin’s name to fill the air. I scanned the audience and saw that I wasn’t the only one anticipating the same. My gaze traced their line of sight and settled on her. But her head was hung low. I strained to dissect her expression as the Head Administrator gabbed about the female awardee, explaining once again the attributes that characterized the person to be awarded. It was basically the same as my description, except this time, it was going to be a female.

Just a split second before the announcement, Sojin’s head twitched and I thought she was going to meet my gaze. Instead, she was eyeing the person three seats from where she was situated. I followed course and landed eyes on -

“Li Chen.”

Again, I wasn’t sure which shocked me more, the Head Administrator’s booming voice or the fact that Sojin seemed to have known of the female awardee already. I was starting to suspect that the Head Principal had shown her the list of honors and awardees even before the announcements came out. But then again, this was Sojin we’re talking about.

Lichen was wide-eyed when she stepped forward to receive the award. She was nearly unresponsive when the Head Administrator shook her hand and donned her the medal and gave her a plaque. And then she sauntered towards me, her jaws still slightly agape. I smiled at her but she only frowned back in confusion. I laughed.

Lichen stared at her plaque as she muttered, “Guess I wasn’t the only one expecting it to be Sojin, huh?”

The ceremony master had now replaced the podium to wrap up the program. The hall was giddy again with excitement. Just a few more minutes before this culmination was to be culminated as well.

Sojin was smiling up at me when I returned to her side for the closing remarks.

“Congratulations, Prefect.”

I grimaced. “Are you mocking me?”

“Depends,” she smirked, keeping her voice low as the Senior level coordinator commenced her speech. “Are you mocked?”

I wasn’t. “A little.”

She muffled her own laughter. “Well, sorry not sorry.”

I suddenly noticed, since I laid eyes on her this morning, that she was unusually happy. I didn’t think her the type to get hyper over anything. Perhaps commencement exercises were an exception? I scanned the crowd again and realized just then that Sojin’s parents were actually seated beside mine. Ah, yes. I forgot that parents, too, had a seating arrangement to follow: according to the ranking of their children, and then alphabetically by class for non-awardees.

With Sojin’s parents and my own in one view, so many things were suddenly exploding in my head. Thoughts about possibilities. And then I shunned the path my thoughts were taking just as Sojin’s mother passed me a smile.

It wasn’t until so much later that I learned what her smile meant.

My watch blinked nine o’clock when my parents and I exited the restaurant. We had settled for a nice, private dinner, just the three of us, to celebrate my achievement. We had a quick talk regarding my plans for college and I had provided them my usual answer.

I had considerations for the arts and sports, but I had not yet zeroed in on any specific university. Not yet, at least. Sojin wouldn’t tell me where she was planning to enroll, and she’d been avoiding the topic since I had raised it a few weeks before the IAC finals. She wouldn’t even tell me what college she would be taking. My only knowledge was that she was going to proceed to university, and this I had gathered from Eunjin.

My mother was hinting on me to take up some business-related course, but I had other plans. I gave her the benefit of the doubt regardless - by saying I’d think it over. My father, as usual, was silent about the matter. He was neutral about it. And then we talked more about how they were doing. And then we finally decided to call it a night.

As I still had to clear out my apartment, I wasn't going to ride and spend the night with them. I had to go back while they'd proceed to wherever they had booked for the night.

"Luhan," my mother called before I climbed up my car. I remained by