Some people have one person who influenced them more than anyone else. I learned while writing this speech how glad I am to have many. That it’s a series of people and events that shape who you become. I learned that even monsters could have a positive impact. I learned that there are people out there that will open their homes and hearts for nothing in return. I learned that strangers could be tolerant and kind. I learned that those who are always helping others help themselves last. Most important, because of all of them, I learned that I could do what I thought was impossible—that I can stand here today.
The room was quiet, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Mr. Santos cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mallory.”
Gazes followed me as I walked back to my seat. Keira looked like she was seconds away from crying as she shot me a huge grin. Even Paige stared as I sat.
I looked over at Rider.
His face held the same expression he’d worn the entire time he sat through my speech, knowing what no one else other than maybe Paige realized—that it was about him. He looked thunderstruck.
And I...I could’ve floated right up to the ceiling.
I’d done it.
Pressing my lips together to hide a stupid smile, I faced the front of the class. I’d done it. Holy crap, I’d really gotten up in front of the class and given a speech. I’d stumbled over words and there had been a lot of awkward pauses, but I’d done it. Tears, the good kind of tears, burned the back of my throat. I wanted to dance and shout. It took everything I had to sit there through Laura Kaye’s speech without jumping out of my seat and screaming.
Mr. Santos called on me when the bell rang. I dared a quick peek in Rider’s direction as I gathered up my stuff and walked to the front of the class.
Mr. Santos smiled as he clamped his hand on my shoulder. “You did really good, Mallory.”
My heart was pounding. “I...I did.”
He nodded. “I just want to let you know that I know how hard that was for you, especially with such personal subject matter. I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“Now I expect you to be up here for every speech,” he said. “Do you think you can handle that?”
Could I? I didn’t know, but I did know I would try. I nodded.
“Good.” He patted my shoulder. “Have a good evening.”
I murmured something along the lines of “You, too” as I turned around. Rider was already gone, and despite everything that had gone down between us, that surprised me. A lot. I’d thought he would’ve hung around to congratulate me, because he, of all people, knew what a big deal this was. But he was nowhere in sight.
Walking out of the class, I told myself I wasn’t going to let his disappearance burst my happy bubble of accomplishment. It sucked that he wasn’t there, but...but what I’d done today was more important, and I knew just how I wanted to celebrate it.
As soon as I got home from school that day, I went straight up to my room and dropped my bag on the floor by my bed. I opened the drawer on my desk, pulling out the supplies. I picked up the half-complete butterfly and took it over to the window seat. Sitting down, I finally finished the carving.
It was fully transformed with delicate wings spanning out on either side of its small body. I’d even added a tiny smile below the indents for eyes.
I placed it back on my desk, just below the last sketch Rider had done of me, and then picked up my history text. I had an exam to study for.
* * *
“Mallory?” Carl called. “Can you come downstairs?”
Shoving the index card into my history text to mark my spot, I flipped the book closed and scooted off the bed. My sock-covered feet hit the floor. It was too early for dinner that night, so I had no idea why I was being summoned.
I tucked a loose strand of hair back behind my ear as I went down the steps. Carl was standing just inside the living room. Rosa was standing beside him, but my gaze was glued to what he held in his hands. It was a small, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper.
My steps slowed. “What is that?”
“It’s for you.” He held out the package.
I stared at it for a moment before reaching out to take it. “Um, why?”
Rosa leaned into Carl. “It’s not from us, honey.”
“Oh.” I turned the light package over. There was no writing on it, and the brown paper reminded me of a shopping bag. “Who’s it from?”
“Why don’t you just open the package?” Carl advised.
Huh. Good idea. I slipped my finger under the edges and peeled off the tape. The paper came right off and the moment I saw what was underneath, my heart leaped into my throat.
It was a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit.
Not the old copy Rider used to read to me, but a shiny new one. A blue hardcover edition with the rabbit standing up on a small, grassy mound.
The brown packaging slipped from my fingers and fell noiselessly to the floor. There was a piece of paper sticking out of the pages. With trembling hands, I carefully opened the book. The thin slip of paper was nothing more than a torn sheet of notebook paper, but a large section of print was highlighted in blue.
“What is REAL?” the Velveteen Rabbit asked the Skin Horse one day. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”