After the awards ceremony, Mr. Holland hurried over from the audience.
He practically jogged across half the hall and clapped a hand onto his student's shoulder.
"Williams."
"Sir."
The bald middle-aged man seemed to want to say something eloquent, then decided it would be too sentimental. In the end, he only managed:
"You've brought honor to all of Greenwood."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me. Thank yourself."
He gave Richard's shoulder a firm pat.
"Study hard when you get back. Don't get cocky."
"I know."
Mr. West walked over. He did not say anything unnecessary, merely extending his hand.
Richard shook it.
Ms. Grant blew her nose beside them.
She had probably been working herself up since the end of the second round, and she finally could not hold it in any longer.
"Ms. Grant, are you all right?" Mr. Holland asked with some concern.
"I'm fine." She stuffed the tissue into her pocket and lifted her head.
Her eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were red and bright. "I just think Williams spoke very well. That's all."
Palmer and Hutchinson came over from a corner of the audience, still carrying the paper wrappers from the pies they had finished.
Palmer crumpled his wrapper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby bin, then wiped the grease from his hands.
"Williams, tell me honestly." He tilted his head at Richard. "Have you been hiding your talents at school this whole time?"
"No."
"Then how did you suddenly get so good at talking?"
"I had a fever and figured out a lot of things." Richard gave him the same explanation he used on everyone.
"Damn. From now on, every flu season, I'll go get myself a fever too. Maybe I'll have an epiphany."
Hutchinson smacked the back of Palmer's head. "Even