“Art may not save the world. Not directly,” Desta said. “But it can make the world a place worth saving. A home that we fill with beauty and magic and possibility. A canvas where we add our own brushstrokes, then pass it on to the next generation so they can add theirs. Because where there’s art, there’s hope. And I think that can save lives too.”

With a satisfied nod, Desta stepped back from the podium. The crowd applauded. Her friends shouted her name as she stepped down from the stage.

It was a full house. Everyone had left the exhibit hall and packed into the auditorium to hear the five speeches. Desta had gone first, and she had set a high bar.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick, Blue Sun Academy’s principal, reappeared onstage to introduce the next student. Archie didn’t register a word of what she said. The other speeches flowed past him like a river of muted sound punctuated by the thumping of his own heart. He’d never spoken in front of this many people before.

Finally, Mrs. Kirkpatrick called Archie’s name. As he approached the stage, he caught words from the principal like unorthodox and thought-provoking. Was that good?

He shook off the self-doubt. It didn’t matter. He had already taken the leap, and now he was determined to enjoy the flight. Stepping up to the podium, Archie unfolded his notes and gazed out at the crowd.

“They say you should never meet your heroes. It’ll always be disappointing,” he began. “But they never met mine. I lived with my hero for thirteen years. I heard his words, saw his choices, and I was never disappointed, even in the most . . . human moments. My biggest hope wasn’t that he’d live up to my expectations, but that I’d live up to his. That I’d make him proud.”

Archie glanced instinctively toward Grandpa. In the split second that their eyes met, he saw exactly that. Pride. He suppressed a wave of emotion before continuing.

“The future is scary when you’re thirteen. We wake up every day facing a fog. We charge into the unknown and try to find our way. Some days we get lost and all we can do is sit while the fog rolls over us. But on the good days, we remember our heroes. We borrow the light they used to find their way—light made of truth and just a little bit of fantasy—and we use it to find our own way. We try, and if we fail, we try again and do our best to get it right. Hopefully we make that light brighter, so that one day we can lend it to someone else who needs it. When that day comes, I hope I remember where my light came from. I hope I can look back and see my hero, Raymond Reese—father, teacher, and protector. I hope I’ll see that I made him proud. If I can do that, then it’ll mean I did something right.”

Archie let his gaze sweep over the audience, wanting to meet as many eyes as he could.

“The Stone-Katzman Project is supposed to be about the future. Some people think that means a career. We start high school next year, so adults say it’s time for us to figure out what we’re going to do with our lives. Well, I still have no clue what I’m going to do—not five years from now, or ten, or twenty. But I have learned who I want to be. Something tells me that’s what matters most.”

He gripped the podium. Almost there.

“So, thank you for this. Whatever you do, however you find your way through the fog, I hope you remember what makes it worthwhile. The people who travel through the fog with you, the lessons they teach you, and the purpose you find that gives your life meaning. I hope your life’s work isn’t just a job, but becoming the person you want to be. And when you get there . . . I hope you’re happy.”

Archie stepped back from the podium and walked away. Halfway across the stage, he realized the room was pin-drop silent. The only thing he heard was his own footsteps.

He felt a flash of panic. Was the speech that bad?

As his feet hit the stairs, the auditorium exploded in thunderous applause. Archie’s heart leapt as the wave of sound crashed over him, nearly pushing him back physically.

Everyone was on their feet. Stunned, Archie searched for faces he knew. Grandpa was clasping his hands and pumping them in the air with a victorious cheer. Mom was crying the good kind of tears.

He’d taken the leap and somehow landed on his feet.

“Time for a classie!” Zig called.

Then Archie was surrounded by his classmates. They pressed together, smiling and striking poses while Zig snapped pictures.

Archie knew he would never forget this.

This was one of the moments Grandpa talked about.