One by one, familiar faces step up to the mic. And as they speak, they become real people to me.

The fog has burned off, and the sun is out. The day is warming up, and I have to take off my hat to keep my brain from melting. I’ve never listened so hard for so long in my life, and I start yawning uncontrollably. But I don’t want to go home.

A Twinkie I don’t know—Jim? Jeff?—hands me half a chocolate chip cookie, and I sit down on the grass. The cookie crumbles as I take a bite, sinking my teeth into a dense chunk of dark chocolate. Instantly, I feel more awake, and I realize that Zitsy was right about the importance of snacks.

I’m surrounded by kids who are planted on the grass, listening as everyone sounds his or her own barbaric yawp over the green. Some people cry. One girl even gets up there and sings an Indigo Girls song. And everyone listens.

We just listen.

It’s like group therapy for the whole school. With cookies. And it’s mostly very peaceful.