There was a uniform grayness about the auditorium which no attempt at decoration could disguise. The flowers on either side of the stage drooped wearily, the air permeated by that dull weighty smell of clothing none to frequently associated with soap and water; the clinging pungency which all but the most meticulously tended human body leaves behind, and faint traces of sea life - betraying the occupation of many locals.
A few fleeting memories of his own high school graduation returned to Kurt as he and the chief took seats near the front. No, school had not changed. Even a tinge of chalk dust had collected, lingered in the air in farewell to the graduates. In the midst of this familiar strangeness, one thing was ... His musing stopped as he saw Erik turn on the organ bench to look back. Though asked to play at the last possible minute by Don and his friends in the graduating class, he had acquiesced, saying that as he had played for Don's baptism and confirmation, he could not refuse him this. The rented instrument blasted out the opening bars of 'Pomp and Circumstance.' Rising with the others, Kurt searched the the swaying black-robed procession for the familiar face. There! Don's smug expression brought an inward chuckle.
During the baccalaureate, Kurt mentally compared the handsome figure on the stage with the half-starved child he'd picked up on the highway a year before. 'I may not have been Don's salvation,' he thought, 'but he's been mine. Even our differences have been minor, except for the matter of college mentioned one evening a few weeks ago:
"Why don't you want to go?"
"I'm sick of school." Don insisted.
"Wouldn't you enjoy studying art?"
"Not really."
"What are you two arguing about?" Erik stood in the doorway.
"Don refuses to even consider college."
"Why, Don?"
"You of all people should understand."
Erik nodded slowly. "I guess I can. You're perfectly happy here."
"You know it! I've had it with kicking around."
"This won't be the same, Don. You have a home here." Kurt said.
"I know, but it's been for such a little while. It'll seem like before if I leave now."
"I won't force you. You agreed to finish high school and you have. I just don't want you to be sorry later on that you didn't continue your studies."
"Thanks, Kurt. I'm not trying to be stubborn, but I need time to pull it all together. Maybe after I've thought about it some..."
The principal's voice brought Kurt back to the present. "... a most unusual occurrence. As you know, the valedictorian is chosen on the basis of grades for the last two years of school. This is the first time in my experience that a student has completed nearly two years of work in one while maintaining a high level of accomplishment in that year. Yet, such is the case this evening and I would be remiss if I did not accord recognition. It is with pleasure, then, that I present Don Warner."
Don's serious expression vanished, replaced with a smile directed at Kurt as he began: "Instead of speaking about school and the future, I want to tell you a story. There was once a boy without a family who ran away from the last of many foster homes in which he was placed by social services. School was something the law demanded he attend until he was sixteen. When he became old enough to quit, he said, 'No more!'
"Because he was beaten often, he ran away from the foster home where he'd been living and thumbed his way from town to town, working at any job he could find to get something to eat. If he couldn't find odd jobs, he begged or stole food to survive. He slept wherever he could, cheap rooming houses if he had some money or under any shelter he could find if he didn't. Finally he got so sick of his life he tried to end it. He learned three things: first, there's no one out there who cares whether you live or die; second, that when there's no one to love, love turns to mistrust making it impossible to relate to anyone without being suspicious of their motives; and third, that he had no place among the living.
"I said that he believed no one cared, so much so that he tried to kill himself, but he lacked the courage to do it. He wandered on until there came a day when he was so hungry he decided to rob a man to get money for food. Instead, that man seemed to know what this boy needed. He took the boy into his home and gave him work. After the work was finished, he let the boy stay on, making his home the boy's home, too. He offered love so the boy's mistrust turned into love. He found there was someone who did care, and the caring sent the boy back to school to finish. At last this boy found a home, friends, love - things which make life precious - things most people take for granted. Don't! These are the most important things in your life.
"By now, some of you have guessed I'm that boy. The things I found are the only reason I'm graduating tonight instead of being in jail or dead. Be thankful for the life you have, there are others who have it worse; learn from the experiences of others when they try to help you avoid their mistakes; love for the love you are given and have enough left over to give someone who has no love.
"This quotation from the Bible says it all, '... faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.'"
Kurt felt a hand touch his; the chief's smile and moist eyes conveyed his feelings. An elderly lady seated nearby wiped her streaming tears.
"Donald Warner."
Don crossed the stage to receive his diploma, standing with the others until the presentation ended. Erik played the recessional with abandon, for the graduates fled the building with shouts of joy.
Fighting his way through the crowd, Kurt at last reached Don and hugged him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know until day before yesterday. I wanted to surprise you."
"I don't think I can take another surprise like this. Thank you for what you said, but I don't deserve it."
"This is one time I'm sure I know better than you."
Erik stopped playing before the auditorium was empty and pushed his way through a side exit. When he saw Don surrounded by the chief, Tony, others of the off-duty crew, he ran and grabbed him up in a bearhug. "What you said was beautiful, babe. I wish I could tell Kurt how much he means to me like you did."
"You don't have to, he knows."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. He said so when he was telling me about you when you came back from the school."
Erik set Don back down as the others demanded that Don and Kurt accompany them all back to the station. The party lasted until the chief at last growled, "Tomorrow's a work day, remember?"