Royal Blood

The following morning we sat through several painfully boring English presentations. Students had revelations of being Web designers, pharmacists, and restaurateurs. I prayed we wouldn't get to Trevor and me, but the clock had ten minutes remaining. My prayers weren't answered.

"So what did you learn about yourselves?" Mrs.Naper asked.

Trevor, always the star, had no inhibitions about being the center of attention. He sprang up next to Mrs.Naper's desk while I walked past my classmates as if I were headed for the guillotine.

"When I was in kindergarten," Trevor began, "like most boys, I wanted to be a superhero." A few girls in the front row giggled. Trevor stopped and shot them a cold stare until the girls glanced away. "Of course, I'm not that kidanymore," he continued, "but I do like action, speed, and competition. What I've learned from this assignment and the interview is that when you are a kid, you don't worry about what others think of your ideas. And your dreams have no boundaries. It might be easy, predictable, and even safe to follow in my parents' professions. But my essay is about how a superhero has courage, and it takes courage to follow your dream. And my goal...," he began, and then turned to me, "is to be a professional soccer player."

"Tell us something we don't know," aPradabee said, flipping through her notebook.

I was really surprised at Trevor's speech. I had challenged my nemesis with my earlier assessment of him and he felt he had to prove to me that he wasn't the coward I thought he was. I wondered if I hadn't said anything, if Trevor would have stood here proclaiming he wanted to be a real estate developer like his dad.

The class applauded and Mrs.Naper grinned at her student pet. "Very interesting and well spoken, Trevor," she complimented. "Now we have just enough time for Raven's presentation before the bell rings."

I gazed out at my fellow students. They glared back like I was the lead act at a freak show.

"When I was young," I began, "I wanted to be a vampire."

My classmates snickered. I pursed my lips and clutched my fist.

"Settle down," Mrs.Naper commanded.

I looked to Becky, who gave me the thumbs-up sign.

"And since then," I continued, "I've lived my life in a way and style that reflects that. It never mattered to me what other people wore-"

"Obviously," I heard someone say.

"Orsaid" I continued. "And because of this I've always been an outcast. Just by being me. So I imagine that I'll find a profession that suits me-perhaps being an editor of my owngoth fashionmag ," I said enthusiastically. "But as we are looking toward our future, I'm not sure it matters what we want to be but ratherwho we want to be. Someone honestor deceitful?Someone kind or cruel?Someone loyal or unfaithful? In any profession we can elect to be any of those things. I think this assignment is not only about what we choose todo but about who we choose tobe. I choose to always be loyal to myself."

I stood in front of my classmates, waiting for their response. No laughter. No snickering. No booing. I turned to Mrs.Naper and Trevor, who both appeared stunned.

Just then the bell rang.

Relieved the assignment was finallyover, I followed Trevor and handed in my essay. As the students filed out of class, I overheard a cheerleader speaking with her friend.

"I know I said I want to be a model, but what I meant was anice model,"

"Yeah," said one of thePradabees . "When I have my designer clothing line, I'll give ten percent of the goods to charity."

After the two girls left, a member of the band was suddenly standing next to me. "I said I wanted to be a teacher, butI really haven't decided what I want to do," he shared with me. "You made me feel that it was okay to focus on myself for a while. And the rest will follow."

"I think it will," I said reassuringly.

Mrs.Naper put Trevor's and my essays in her folder. "In all the years I've been giving this assignment, yours and Trevor's presentations were two of the best." She gloated.

Trevor put his arm around me before I could bat it away. "Guess that means we'll be working together again very soon," he said triumphantly, and disappeared into the hallway.

Becky handed me my backpack."Seems like your presentation was more powerful than you planned. Maybe you should be a motivational speaker."

"Can I wear combat boots?" asked.

"You'll be the only one," she said, and dragged me out of class.