But Ethan didn’t do that.
Instead of walking across the stage, Ethan took a sharp left. He walked directly toward the center podium, where the microphone stood live, waiting for the closing remarks.
A frantic, terrified murmuring erupted from the faculty section sitting behind the podium. Principal Vance waved his arms wildly, signaling frantically to the A/V booth at the back of the room.
As Ethan leaned in, parting his lips to speak into the silver mesh, a loud, sharp POP echoed violently through the massive room, followed immediately by the dead, empty hiss of static.
They had cut the microphone. They had silenced him.
In the front row, Eleanor Harrington leaned back in her chair and smirked. It was a vicious, triumphant smile. She thought she had won. She thought the poor had been put back in their place.
Ethan tapped the mic. Thump, thump. Nothing. Dead air.
