Two—I’m surer than ever of what I need to do.

Then comes a short series of video clips, cast with a projector onto the stage curtain, showing people on wheels doing sports or other cool things. I wanted WCMX clips, of course, and they did use a couple of the ones I suggested. But there are also a bunch Dr. Grayling must have taken himself from some of his mission trips—one is of people in the jungle somewhere being given new wheelchairs by some medical team. There’s no sports, but plenty of grateful tears and soppy music.

Not exactly what I would have chosen.

Imagining what AK_SalmonGranny would say about it if she were here makes me feel a little better.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long. Soon, Dr. Grayling’s wrapping up, and Ms. Hernandez cues me to go out. We’ve talked about what comes next—I make a short speech and tell everyone how the money’s going to “change my life,” and then they hand me a huge cardboard check.

“Don’t forget,” she whispers as I poke the curtains open. “When Dr. Grayling shakes your hand, hold it a few seconds for the cameras.”

My heart’s pounding so hard I barely hear her, but I nod and grip my rims hard to keep my hands from shaking. Ale leans over.

“You got this, chica. I’ll be ready.”

Her voice in my ear calms me a little. “You better,” I whisper back, and we fist-bump. Then I breathe deep and go out onto the stage.

The crowd cheers, and I blink in the spotlight as Ms. Hernandez introduces me and then clips a wireless microphone to the neckline of my dress.

Now—finally—it’s my turn to talk.

I spent hours last night thinking about what to say. How the people in Devontae’s and my project might say it if they were making this speech.

But I’m just me—which will have to do.

“This is a lot of money,” I start. “And I’m grateful for what it can do.” I glance at Dr. Grayling, who’s got the big, cardboard check in his hands. He nods approvingly.

“But I think the school got it backward,” I continue. “A new chair’s been my dream for a long time—one I’ve been—am—working for. My wheels are my freedom, my gear. But what good is new gear if I have to use it at a school with no automatic door or ramps built to code?”

Dr. Grayling’s smile freezes.

I hear a few murmurs in the crowd. A flash goes off close by, and a reporter in the front row types furiously on her tablet.

But me, I feel like something is finally thawing out. Pieces melting into place. Maybe I struggled to find the words to explain how I feel to everyone one-to-one, but up here, with the lights in my eyes and the crowd at my feet … somehow the words just come.

I fidget with the mike clipped to my dress and keep going, more confident with each word.