Unicorn
Ken had a great, big, unsightly, and slightly off-center horn right in the middle (though not quite middle) of his head. Yep. There it was, big as life, right smack-dab in the not-quite-middle of his forehead. Of course, it's not exactly the kind of thing a person can hide. Everyone in school made fun of him over it and called him “unicorn boy” or even “uniKen” when they were being particularly clever.
Everyone except Jenny. She was always cool about it. “It'll be fine,” she told him before the big speech. “Just go out there and give it your best. They'll be listening and not looking, I promise!”
Easy for her to say. She didn't have a horn in the not-middle of her head. Ken let out a defeated sigh and stood up when the Dean called his name. Him and Jenny were parked off-stage on a pair of folding chairs and when Dean Markey stepped aside from the podium, it was his cue to go. Jenny had to push.
No sooner had he stepped onto the stage than the entire auditorium burst into a barely contained giggle. Smiling kindly, Dean Markey shook Ken's hand and passed him his diploma. Being valedictorian, he was certain, was more of a joke vote on the part of the student body; one last chance to point and stare at the unicorn. But he had learned to take what he could. Anyway, his parents were so flipping proud.
He took up his place behind the podium and spread out his notes. Nearly two hundred people were there for graduation and all of them were gawking at him. He kind of hated them. All of them with perfectly centered horns, and most of them in triple sets. Even kind old Dean Markey was double-horned.
Off-stage, Jenny gave him a thumbs up. She had a dozen horns...in spirals. Why in the world did she push him into this? Just smile and get through it, Ken told himself, just smile.
Ken had a great, big, unsightly, and slightly off-center horn right in the middle (though not quite middle) of his head. Yep. There it was, big as life, right smack-dab in the not-quite-middle of his forehead. Of course, it's not exactly the kind of thing a person can hide. Everyone in school made fun of him over it and called him “unicorn boy” or even “uniKen” when they were being particularly clever.
Everyone except Jenny. She was always cool about it. “It'll be fine,” she told him before the big speech. “Just go out there and give it your best. They'll be listening and not looking, I promise!”
Easy for her to say. She didn't have a horn in the not-middle of her head. Ken let out a defeated sigh and stood up when the Dean called his name. Him and Jenny were parked off-stage on a pair of folding chairs and when Dean Markey stepped aside from the podium, it was his cue to go. Jenny had to push.
No sooner had he stepped onto the stage than the entire auditorium burst into a barely contained giggle. Smiling kindly, Dean Markey shook Ken's hand and passed him his diploma. Being valedictorian, he was certain, was more of a joke vote on the part of the student body; one last chance to point and stare at the unicorn. But he had learned to take what he could. Anyway, his parents were so flipping proud.
He took up his place behind the podium and spread out his notes. Nearly two hundred people were there for graduation and all of them were gawking at him. He kind of hated them. All of them with perfectly centered horns, and most of them in triple sets. Even kind old Dean Markey was double-horned.
Off-stage, Jenny gave him a thumbs up. She had a dozen horns...in spirals. Why in the world did she push him into this? Just smile and get through it, Ken told himself, just smile.
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