GRADUATION
by
Jim McGregor

I pulled my collar up around my neck and waited for the gust of wind to move on toward the river. I hadn’t thought about him for a long time and until I got the phone call he had been like so many of my other students, just a kid I had known.

His name was always on the Honor Roll, top of the class, world at his feet. Always A’s or A+’s, the jock, the kid with the nice clothes and the very nice car, the guy with the pretty girl. The last time I remember speaking to him was in his senior year about two months before Grad. He was cleaning out his locker and told us all he was finished with school.

His hair and clothes were different; his open shirt revealed a display of bling around his neck equal to ½ my year’s salary. When I asked him why he was leaving he said he was setting his sights higher than the rest of us.

“What can possibly be higher than an A+?” I had asked him

He had leaned back on his locker and told me how so many of his friends had busted their ass and broke their parents going through university or torn up their knees or rotator cuffs trying to please some hack college coach and now they were detailing cars or working at Home Depot. That wasn’t for him. He had found a way to make big money and make it fast. My parting words to him that day were a warning, it was a life that would consume him, chew him and spit him out. He would wake up crying in the middle of the night praying for help and forgiveness. But he was young and they never listen.

Last night when I got the call I shook my head in disbelief, even though I had predicted it. The wind had moved on across the open park and I moved to the small clump of trees. He turned as I approached and I’m sure he didn’t recognize me, and I barely recognized him. He was shaking as I gave him the cash; he gave me the plastic bag and disappeared.

I wish he would have listened to me, I knew what I was talking about.