Page 1 of Awakening the Sheriff
PROLOGUE
Auden - June 1993
Ibarely recognized the gym. The warm June sun streamed through the tall windows, casting shadows over the polished wooden floor. American flags had replaced the “Go Foxes!” banners of the Forestville Foxes, our high school football team, which was quite successful despite our school being so small. The entire gym was now a sea of red, white, and blue. A large stage had been set up at one end, and they had arranged two rows of foldable chairs in the front for our graduating class, twenty-nine kids in total.
I nervously adjusted my graduation cap and glanced around at my friends. Marnin, my best friend, was on my left. We’d always been there for each other through thick and thin. On my other side was Tricia, my girlfriend. We’d been dating for two years, and she was still as pretty as ever. Her golden hair shimmered beneath her cap, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. Farther down the row sat the Banner twins, Tomás and Tiago, their matching grins both mischievous and endearing. And finally, Essex, the last member of our friend group.
“Can you believe it, Auden?” Marnin said, breaking into my thoughts. “We’re about to graduate!”
“Time flies. I’m really grateful for all the amazing times we’ve had.”
“Me too. But soon, we’ll all be going our separate ways.” Marnin’s voice grew quieter, more contemplative.
I nodded, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat. By the end of summer, I’d be reporting to Fort Irwin for basic training. Tricia was bound for nursing school, while Essex was joining the Marines. Marnin would be off to Stanford to study engineering, and Tomás and Tiago would pursue their budding modeling careers full-time. Funny, but I hadn’t expected to be this emotional. But now that the moment was here, all I could think of was that our paths would forever diverge.
“No matter where life takes us, you’ll always be my best friend,” I said to Marnin. He looked at me funny for a moment—Marnin didn’t do sappy and wouldn’t know how to be, even if he tried—then slapped my shoulder.
“Same here, man.”
That was Marnin’s peak level of emotion.
Principal Hodgkins stepped up to the podium, and the gym fell silent. “Welcome, everyone, to the Forestville High School Class of 1993 graduation ceremony!” he announced. “We are so proud of our twenty-nine graduating students. You have each worked hard and grown tremendously during your time here. As you leave these halls and venture into the world, remember to leave your mark and make Forestville proud!”
I nodded along with his words, feeling the weight of that responsibility settle on my shoulders. My future was planned out: eight years in the Army with the Military Police, then back to college for my bachelor’s degree before becoming a deputy sheriff alongside my father. And when he retired, I hoped to take over as sheriff. On top of that, I wanted to marry Tricia and start a family—a big one, if we were lucky. Ambitious plans, but I was excited about the future.
“Next, please welcome our valedictorian, Fir Everett.” Principal Hodgkins gestured Fir onto the stage. The principal had resisted calling Fir by anything other than his legal name—Douglas or Doug—for years. But now, even he had capitulated to the nickname that had proven more stubborn and sticky than anyone had expected.
Fir walked hesitantly to the microphone, his eyes darting over the crowd. He was smart as a whip but not socially confident, and I was rooting for him to do well. He cleared his throat and began his speech.
“Good evening, fellow graduates, teachers, families, and friends. As we stand here today, on the precipice of a new chapter in our lives, I want to remind you of something Gandhi once said. ‘The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.’ This concept of serving others, dedicating our lives to making the world a better place, is what I believe we should strive for.”
His words resonated within me, echoing my aspirations of serving in the Army and eventually as sheriff. I wanted to make a meaningful impact on the world, and I loved that Fir shared that desire.
“Whether we become doctors, like I plan to, or engineers, nurses, soldiers, or artists,” Fir continued, “let us all remember that our lives are not just about ourselves. We have a duty to help others, lift them up, and inspire change. So I call upon each of you, my fellow graduates, to dedicate a part of your life to serving others, for it is through service that we truly find purpose.”
When Fir finished his speech, I clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd, a renewed sense of purpose washing over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I stayed true to my goals and remembered the importance of service, I would make it.
As Principal Hodgkins called us on stage to receive our diplomas, the anticipation in the room was palpable. Our friends and families looked on, their expressions a mix of pride and wistfulness. How I wished my mom could’ve been here to see me graduate. It had been eight years since she’d passed away. I loved my stepmom, Cora, but in moments like this, I missed my mom so freaking much.
As we stood in line on stage, alphabetized by last name, Essex made a joke about Fir’s speech. I couldn’t hear the exact words, but it was obviously meant to belittle Fir’s passionate call for service. I winced. Ugh, Essex needed to learn when to stay quiet. He always said stuff like that at the most awkward and inappropriate times.
Fir bristled. “You know, Essex”—his voice dripped with disdain—“You should really keep your mouth shut. Without my tutoring, you wouldn’t evenbegraduating today.”
Oh, damn! Essex’s face turned red. He hadn’t seen that coming. My friends and I exchanged glances, and I was secretly proud of Fir for standing up to Essex. He was my friend, but the dude could be a total dick. I bumped Fir’s shoulder. “Well said,” I mouthed.
He blinked at me as if surprised by my reaction, then smiled.
“Essex Coombe,” the principal announced, and Essex stepped forward with a hell of a lot less confidence than he’d had when he got on stage. Good.
“Auden Frant,” the principal called out, and my heart raced as I walked up to him. The principal shook my hand firmly. “This young man has chosen to serve his country as well. We’re all very proud of you, Auden.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After the ceremony, my father approached me, his eyes shining with pride, his sheriff’s uniform crisp and immaculate. He enveloped me in a strong embrace.
“Congratulations, son. I know you’re going to do great things.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I replied, my voice thick with emotion.