The auditorium is teeming with guests. Somewhere in the crowd, I catch a glance of my parents. They look happy and proud. I hear a soft whisper that almost makes me jump. “We've made it through high school. Let's enjoy this moment” says Gradyn, his voice calm as usual. We had been studying together since our freshman year, and now, we will be attending the same university. Six years back, I would never have ventured to think that I, James Shepherd, would get a full scholarship to study forensic science at Harvard.

I used to hate school. I repeatedly told my parents that school was not my cup of tea, but they insisted on me attending. When I was in middle-school , I used to doodle scary-looking faces on my desk during science class to take my mind off the teacher’s everlastingly annoying lecture on “the wonders of scientific discoveries” and all these funky “derived” formulas that I was supposed to memorize (but did not because I did not want to). School was torture for me.

On the first day of 9th grade, I arrived late to school, but I did not care. The bell had already rung and students were heading to their respective homerooms. I was halfway to mine when I saw a peculiar student, a book in hand. He wore circular glasses with black rims and had short, brown, curly hairs. He seemed lost. “Hey. Do you need help?,” I asked. He walked silently away. I stood alone baffled, wondering what was wrong with him. Then, I walked to my homeroom.

It is a custom in my homeroom to welcome new students. After taking the attendance, Mr. Miller called up a certain Gradyn Smith. Everyone turned around to look at him. The new student was the weirdo I had met on my way to class about thirty minutes ago. His cold turquoise eyes had intrigued me.

My friends came up with the nickname “Grumpy Gradyn” that they only used with me, out of earshot. Grumpy Gradyn spent all his time immersed in academics. No one ever tried to talk to him because they did not like him (or else, they were scared of him). One day my friends and I were discussing how unfair it is for humans to be forced to attend school. Gradyn was passing by.

“Attending school is a huge privilege that brats like you cannot understand,” He said. That was rude. In a frenzy of irritation, Jack leapt on Gradyn, but Gradyn knocked him down right away and walked past us as if nothing had happened. All three of us stood there, speechless. Jack was swearing in between gasps. This newcomer seemed to have King Kong’s strength.

Jack and George repeatedly advised me to let Grumpy Gradyn grump in his grim corner, but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

“Come on, James. You’re wasting your time. Don’t you see that this grouch is an antisocial who cares about nothing else but books?”

Georges was partly right. One day, before the beginning of class, I saw Gradyn isolated as usual, book in hand. I got closer. “Hey Gradyn. That’s a huge book you got here. Is it interesting?” I asked. My attempt to start up a conversation with him had lamentably failed. He shot me a distrustful and purposefully disdaining gaze that communicated, “Leave me alone. I don’t want your company.”

“George is right. Our altercation with him in the hallway is enough proof of that. There is more chance of you getting a perfect GPA than him opening up to anyone. Giving up will spare you from further humiliation,” uttered Jack patting my shoulders.

Gradyn was an unusual phenomenon. He hated others’ company and didn’t mind expressing it. All the other forty students of my grade had decided to ignore him, but for an unfathomable reason I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. His gaze that day had bewildered me. There was something else in his eyes in addition to disdain. A gleam of sorrow. Who was Gradyn Smith?

A month later, I was walking back  home after a boring day at school when I encountered a masked man in a black suit. He wore black gloves over his hands. His bloodthirsty eyes transfixed me. The man drew out a short dagger with a sharp-edged blade that shone under the intense sunlight. At the sight of it, I gulped. “I wish my death could’ve been smoother,” I thought.

“You’re James Shepherd, the son of the unfair FBI officer who imprisoned my father, Rodolph. Because of him, my dear father was assassinated in prison a year ago. I will never forgive him. I vowed to myself that I would avenge Rodolph’s murder by taking away Mr. Shepherd’s most precious treasure, you. I have been tracking you down for months, looking for the right moment. I will kill you,” he said, his words full of resentment and bitterness.

“Killing me will not bring back your father,” I replied, trembling.

“Maybe not, but at least, your father will endure the same kind of pain I went through because of him. There is nothing more fulfilling than revenge,” He replied in a sadistic tone. I tried to back away but my back was against a wall. The neighborhood was quiet. I regretted having stopped pestering my dad about buying me a gun. The man pointed the sharp-edged knife to my heart. “Revenge is like drugs. At first, you desire it. Once you taste it, you delude yourself into thinking that it is good and necessary for your life. In the long run, you become addicted and you die progressively, sometimes without even realizing it,” I uttered desperately. I closed my eyes, waiting for my death. Suddenly, I heard a bang. I opened my eyes, expecting to be in the Kingdom of the Dead, surrounded by floating ghosts. I saw the man’s dagger on the ground between my feet and his body lying on his back.

“Am I alive?” I wondered out loud.

“See for yourself,” answered a familiar voice.

“Gradyn, is that you? How come you…” I whispered.

“Run! He is only unconscious. You better run if you don’t want to land in the Kingdom of the Dead for real this time!” Gradyn shouted, holding an iron stick. He looked tense.

“But what about you?” I asked.

“Run, I said! Don’t make me regret saving your life,” he yelled.

I ran away, Gradyn’s courageous act being the only thing in my mind. Back at home, I related the incident to my parents. They were expectedly shocked.

“You’re okay and  that’s the most important thing,” said my mum in a relieved voice.

My father looked at me with guilty eyes. I smiled to reassure him.

“Tomorrow I will stop by the police station. This criminal must be jailed,” He said.

Two days later, the psychopath who had tried to murder me was jailed. The morning following his imprisonment I was finally allowed to walk to school. On my way, I felt a presence behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and guess who I saw!

“Hey Gradyn!” I said pleased to see my savior.

“Hello,” he replied in a calm voice.

We walked quietly for about five minutes. Then, I broke the silence.

“Gradyn,” I ventured.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Thank you very much for saving my life the last week. If you hadn’t been there, my parents would be mourning me. You’re a hero,” I spoke.

“I didn’t do it for you. I was just passing by.” He was denying it, but I could see that he was worried for me that day. This was a strong proof that Gradyn was not the stern, stony person he appeared to be.

“Thanks again. Would you like to be my friend?” I pleaded. The flicker of sorrow I had seen that day when I addressed him in the classroom was back again in his eyes.

“No. I don’t need friends. I am happy the way I am,” he replied coldly. But at that moment, huge drops of tears trickled down his cheeks, betraying the arrogance he was trying to convey through his words.

“I have been observing you. You don’t show it but I know that you have suffered a lot in the past. Blurt it all out and you will feel better,” I encouraged. He looked at me defeatedly, then sighed.

“My father ...” he started, then stopped for a moment.

“My father was an alcoholic. He used to beat us up, my mother and me. When I was about six years old, he came back from work, drunk. My mum had been busy with house work, so she had not gotten to cooking the evening meal. Realizing that, my dad grew furious. He grabbed a knife in a nearby sink and stabbed her. I was hidden behind the curtains that day, so he did not notice me. Then, he ran upstairs, shouting my name. Afraid of suffering the same fate, I ran away from the house and never went back. I begged for my uncle’s hospitality, but he dumped me in an orphanage a few months later because he got tired of me screaming in my sleep. I felt like the whole world was against me. A year after, the Smith family adopted me. I was their only child and they treated me very kindly. Since then, I have lived with them. They enrolled me in school, realizing my sweetest childhood dream, but the pain in my heart never subsided. I tried to squish it back by focusing exclusively on studying and becoming the best in all my classes, but that didn’t help either. So now, I guess you understand why I got mad when I heard you talk the way you did about school with your friends that day in the hallway.” He was sobbing now. It was my turn to cry. Gradyn’s story was so sad. Everything appeared clear to me. He had had a difficult childhood and the overwhelming pain in his heart was what caused him to be reclusive and cold with others. He feared betrayal.

“I can feel you. Thanks for sharing this with me. But let me tell you one thing: by squishing back your pain you will only succeed in making it worse. You need a friend, and as far as I know, you have none. I want you to know that I will always be there to support you. I will be your friend,” I promised sniffling.

“You really want to be my friend despite the fact that I was mean and kept on rejecting you?” he asked. He was feeling ashamed.

“Gradyn, that wasn't you. You were under the influence of the pain in your heart. When a great amount of pain is locked away in a person's heart, they end up confused to the point of acting in opposition with their own selves,” I explained. Gradyn’s eyes widened.

“Thank you for opening my eyes and seeing the best in me. I want to campaign against the excessive consumption of alcohol and, by the same token, contribute to the reduction of domestic violence across the globe. I don’t wish any kid to suffer the way I did. This is why I study hard at school,” he said, wiping his tears with his hands. I was impressed by his vision.

Since the first day I stepped into school I had always found it useless and annoying, but after hearing Gradyn’s genuine words, I felt a part of me awaken. School was not the torture I had always thought it was. It was a means of ending someone else’s torture. I have always admired the FBI investigators like my father who used various chemicals and technologies to identify criminals. I could learn more in science to follow in their steps. Gradyn had awakened a dream that had been, until that moment, dormant in me. I decided that from then on I would study hard and pay more attention during class, especially in science classes, in order to become a specialized forensic scientist and track down criminals.

“Gradyn, I want to become a genius like you. I have a dream now. Please help me,” I begged.

“Alright. First step: you need to develop punctuality! Tomorrow morning I will stop by your house on my way to school,” he joked.

This is how our story began. Since then, we studied and hung out together, him teaching me how to be a good student, and me trying to permeate him with my sense of humor. The more we interacted, the more we learned from each other. Appearances are sometimes misleading. Gradyn is like a pineapple: hard on the outside but sweet and caring on the inside. I feel lucky to be his friend.

“James, are you asleep,” Gradyn whispers in my ears. I jolt back from my reverie.

“No,” I reply. “I was just reminiscing the good old times.”

“I see. Well, you will have to reminisce later because the director has just arrived,” he says smiling.

Mr. Millers walks solemnly to the center of the stage.

“Dear parents, teachers, and guests, welcome to the school's annual graduation celebration. We will begin with words from the director and other staff members. Then, two valedictorians will deliver their final speeches,” he said, and Gradyn shot me a knowing look.

We had come so far in just four years, but Gradyn and I were ready to take the podium together and share our story, inspiring the audience to look within themselves like we had, finding strength, friendship, and endless possibilities.