“…. And without any further ado,” Principal Whitmoore continued, “It gives me immense pleasure to introduce our 2022 Lincoln High School valedictorian, Candice Flemming. Let’s all give her a big round of applause! Get on up here Candy!”

The gymnasium erupts with applause as I get up to give my speech. Mr. Whitmoore stands on the stage gazing down at me with a smile that makes my stomach churn. It’s the same smile that he had on that afternoon, just three months ago. He waited for me on his front porch and undressed me with his eyes. The smile that got bigger and bigger as he led me into his townhome.

As I approach him onstage he holds out his arms and pulls me in for a big hug. The touch of his hands repells me. How can he stand here in front of the whole school, and hug me like this, after everything that he’s done to me? I pull away from his embrace, but his cologne lingers on me. It’s the same stench that hasn’t left my nose since that day in February.

At the podium, I unfold my speech, and the audience sits in rapt attention. As I look out, I see so many faces, the faces of people who have allowed Whitmoore to get away with it all.

Today is a very big day for Lincoln High School. Our little town in the middle of nowheresville Illinois, is crawling with reporters and news cameras. Lincoln High has led the nation with a 100% graduation rate and a 100% matriculation rate, for fifteen consecutive years. Nearly 50% percent of it’s students will attend Ivy League schools. The townspeople are quite proud of this record and have turned out en masse to celebrate. Everyone credits this success to Principal Whitmoore, and immediately following the graduation ceremony, the main drag in town will be renamed “Jonas T. Whitmoore Boulevard” in his honor. Using his many connections he has been able to place the students of Lincoln High in the best colleges across the country. He asks for only a little in return, and the parents of our town are very happy to comply with him. “After all, it’s for the children,” they all say.

Seated in the center of the crowd are my parents, they are beaming at me. Their little girl is the valedictorian and will be going to Harvard in the fall. I wonder, was it worth sending their beloved daughter to that man, to have him grope her and pleasure himself all over her body? It wasn’t worth it to me and I know it wasn’t worth it to my friends. When Whitmoore hugged me onstage I looked into the eyes of the my classmates. There were tears, there was disgust, and some wouldn’t even look up at Whitmoore. Yet, our parents all sit like statues, as proud as heck of their little girls.

Every eye and every camera is fixed on me as I stand before them. My speech lay on the podium, but I crumple it up and toss it aside. My heart is racing. The man seated behind me, the one who molested me with my parent’s permission, shifts in his chair and I can see my parents whispering in each other’s ears. My best friend Allie, senses what I’m thinking and her face brightens with a glimmer of hope. The smile on her face gives me the confidence to begin.

“My fellow classmates, parents, family members, friends, and visitors who have come to our town for this special occasion.” I pause for a moment, the room is eerily silent. “Three months ago my parents arranged for me to meet with Principal Whitmoore. While at his home he told me to undress and lie on his bed where he proceeded to have sex with me. My parents were told that if I did that, he would get me into my choice of the finest schools in the country.” Gasps rise from the audience. I see my parents begging me to stop, and I feel Whitmoore’s hand on my shoulder pulling my away from the microphone. But at that moment Allie stands up and yells, “He did me too!” Then Stacy Wexford stands up and yells, “He did me too!” In the third row, five girls rise as one and scream, “He did me too!” And finally, the rest of the girls in our class jump to their feet and chant, “He did me too!”