Before the stage I stood, the litany of voices all around me, the hush of sudden confused whispering as the called people to quiet down, the mumbling inscrutible speaking of the man on stage as he tried to ignore my sudden decision to stand to my feet in the middle of his speech. The ghastly looks of the others on stage. Their eyes begging me the question, how could I do this? How could I stand?
How could I be so defiant?
The cacaphony of whispers and the presenter trying to keep his cool was enough to tell me that I had gained the upper hand. That I had broken the buzzing drone of one way conversation and had inserted myself into the dialogue without so much as word spoken on my part. The man's eyes met mine momentarily and for a moment our eyes were at war, and the war was clearly in my favor. He did not know what to do, what to expect. For the course of his entire career this man had been getting up on stage and giving his speech, over and over again, and this had never occurred. How to handle such unexpected a situation.
"Melinda please sit down," came the hushed voice of my friend Juliet next to me. "Please."
The harried cooridinator standing behind the presenter, trying to mime with her hands the lowering motions of sitting was not enough. It was not enough to stop me in my urgent and fierce need to show to the people of this room, to the presenters, to everyone, that I was serious in my decision, that I did not respect this man, this drone, and that I would listen no more.
Silence. The man on stage had stopped speaking. There was pure silence. This was my moment.
Taking my bookbag in one hand, I slung it over my shoulder, and turned and walked down the gymnasium past the groups of students watching me in a mixture of horror and humor, and went to the door. I pushed the handle down, pushed the heavy metal door open, and let is crash closed behind me as I swept out of the gymnasium into the silence of the empty school hallways.
Never again, after that moment, would I be forced to attend Sunday Mass in the gym. Never again would I have to sit in my chair and half fall asleep as the Principal gave his weekly sermons on abstinence.
Never again, however, would I sit next to Juliet, secretly touching her hand, her thigh, even under the Principals watchful eyes.
The reality of what I had done suddenly hit me, and I fell down my knees.
(Not really sure about this story/monologue/thing, it hasn't been proofread yet. Don't really like it, but eh, I write it in one sitting, so what can you do?)
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