The perplexing roller coaster of events has left you dreading what the future may hold. As you toil with your feelings for Negan--as you strive to protect Nicole--enemies prowl on the fence of The Sanctuary. Menacing storm clouds of war are brewing...
"Okay, everybody settle down and get quiet!" Your Rhetoric teacher, who couldn't have been much younger than a Paleolithic fossil, stood at the podium in front of the classroom. The students buzzed like fireflies. Their chatter was constant. Babbling in excitement, they scattered to their assigned seats and awaited Mr. Greco's announcements. The room hushed, and you sat up straight in your chair with your hands folded. Gio lounged behind you at his desk with his feet resting on the back of your seat. "Now, I know all of you are just about fed up with this school year. After reviewing your grades, I can tell a lot of you are suffering from senioridis," your teacher droned. A few of your classmates giggled. Gio rolled his eyes. "The good news is that you only have a week left until graduation."
The students burst into applause. Cheers echoed in the room, and Gio howled. He pounded on his desk and chanted, "Free 2011! Free 2011!" In reference to the year of your graduating class, he continued to boisterously shout and stomp his feet.
"Can it!" Mr. Greco yelled, and the students calmed themselves.
You swiveled in your seat and looked at Gio. "This isn't a fricken football game," you scolded him in a whisper.
He winked at you in reply. "Sue me," he chuckled.
The instructor resumed, "I see a couple of you marked yourselves down for the grad speech auditions." He pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose as he peered at his roster. "Giovanni Pecora," he called.
Instantly, Gio jumped up and raised his hand. "Yes, sir!" he shouted.
"You're on first," the teacher mumbled. "Results will be determined by style, quality, and length. If you have any questions, check out the rubric. After your speech, hand in your works cited page." His tone was unenthusiastic.
Gio strode to the front of the classroom with swagger in his steps. He didn't even bother to tie back his disheveled hair. The girls in the back laughed coyly amongst themselves.
You eyed Gio as he took his place as the podium. Fingers drumming on your desk, you were surprised that he, of all people, decided to audition for the commencement speech. This is going to be a shit-show, you mused.
Fixing his shirt and clearing his throat, Gio began his monologue. "Friends, classmates, West Virginians...lend me your ear!"
Oh my god, Greco is going to FAIL him, you thought, shaking your head.
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"This year's been a real party. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that I didn't even look at my Oral Communications book during this semester," he declared. "Let alone read it."
