Their presentation was well done, but nothing extraordinary. Plus, their Cover Letters were basic, thought Lurcard. Their parents clearly didn't go out of their way!
William Boltson — whom everyone called Bill — and James Fredericks Garrett had just wrapped up their presentation to enthusiastic applause from the auditorium; even a few company presidents shared in the enthusiasm.
"They're clapping for that?" Helga noted, skeptical. "Those two kids must be the offspring of some important families. Well, okay, to be fair, they do know their topic well, but…"
"Nothing particularly groundbreaking, right?" added Bodwell.
"That's putting it mildly!"
"They presented the various characteristics of the fauna from the eastern and southern seas, and the consequences on navigation... Precise, but not very daring."
"That's for sure!" agreed Helga. "I hope Lurcard and Allan will do better than them."
"Shh! Can you two knock it off already?" Henriette interrupted. "Let's try not to draw attention, please."
"Forgive me, darling."
"Yeah, you're right, Henriette," Helga conceded.
On the stage, having gathered their documents, Bill and James were heading toward the steps, while the dean returned to the podium.
"Bravo again!" he congratulated them. "A fine presentation. The result of work you've carried out over these past seven years. Well done!"
Bill and James had returned to their seats. The rest of the students — those who had not yet been called — were fidgeting with impatience in their chairs. And it was becoming unbearable.
"Our next students to come up on stage are…" announced Willusworth as he read from his sheet,
"Allan Bodwell Johntoms and Lurcard Dario Goma!"
The announcement of their names had the effect of a thunderclap so powerful that they jumped in their seats. On their side, their parents themselves felt a lump in their throats. Henriette began to have such intense hot flashes that Helga was forced to fan her with her hat. As for Bodwell, he was sweating profusely while trying to assist his wife.
"Allan Johntoms and Lurcard Goma, where are you? It's your turn!" echoed the dean's voice throughout the hall.
Still frozen in their seats, Lurcard and Allan realized that it was their turn now. The two young men didn't dare look at the dean. One stared at the floor, hoping to find the courage to stand up, while the other examined the letters he held in his hands, trying to decide which one to take with him on stage.
Suddenly, struck by a surge of unexpected courage, Allan sprang from his chair and, in the process, knocked into his friend's hand. One of the letters fell to the ground. Apparently, fate had made the choice for Lurcard. The letter he was still holding was Mr. Johntoms's!
Was it chance that made it that particular letter? Lurcard could have dwelled on the question, but he didn't — because, truth be told, he was relieved not to have to make the choice himself. It was too hard! he told himself. And I definitely don't want to discover his message at the same time as everyone else!
Yes, this is simpler, he admitted with relief. With that, Lurcard picked up his father's letter, slipped it under his robe, and finally stood up.
"We're here, Dean!" he replied firmly, as if to dispel any remaining doubt within himself.
"Come on up, then. We're eager to hear from you," the old man encouraged them.
Lurcard gave Allan a pat on the back to urge him forward. Allan then took the lead.
Tense, the Johntoms couple watched the scene, holding their breath.
The two boys reached the stage. They handed their Cover Letters to the dean, who passed them on to his assistant. She disappeared backstage. The old man bowed to greet the two friends while gesturing toward the podium. Allan and Lurcard returned the bow, then stepped to the front of the stage — carrying their map scrolls and notebooks. They placed them on the podium.
Then, projected onto the large white curtain, the Cover Letters appeared.
"Here are the Mariners' Cover Letters written by Mr. and Mrs. Johntoms," announced Willusworth. "Written for Mr. Allan Johntoms and Mr. Lurcard Goma."
In response to the announcement, the audience applauded.
"Dear Lalan, it's Mom," began the dean aloud. "It appears this is Mrs. Johntoms's letter to our dear Allan."
The audience burst into laughter, and Allan only felt more embarrassed.
"Dear Lalan, it's Mom," the old man began again, a smile on his lips. "I know you don't like it when I call you that, but know that to me, you'll always be that little baby crawling all over the house and getting hurt. Despite your scrapes and bruises, you never stopped and that's what made me want to protect you from everything.
But your father kept repeating to me: He's not made of sugar! And he was right. You have that same strength of character. That's why I gave you the same name as him.
My Lalan, know that today, I see that you're no longer the baby I once tried to shield at all costs. You've proven stronger than all my doubts.
That's why I'm writing this to you: don't doubt your strength. Whatever storms may rise on your path, don't doubt. Because you are strong, as your father used to say: you're not made of sugar. You can overcome anything.
Signed: Your mom, who loves you with all her heart."
As the dean finished reading, the auditorium erupted in applause. From the stage, Allan could see his parents watching him, full of emotion. Lurcard, by his side, gave him a pat on the shoulder. Allan responded with a nod.
"Now, the letter from Mr. Johntoms for Mr. Lurcard Goma," Willusworth continued, turning toward the curtain.
"My dear Lurcard, in my eyes, you are one of the bravest boys in the world. I've seen you fight against the opinions of others. I've seen you fight against criticism and mockery. And yet, you suffered. You were even brought to your knees, but you always found the strength to get back up. I can never encourage you enough by telling you this: no matter the past, no matter today — what matters is what you decide today for your future, and that you fight for it.
I will tell you what I would tell Allan, because in my eyes, you are both my boys: The small storms of life prepare you to face the greater ones. Look straight ahead and stay the course.
Signed, Mr. Bodwell. I am proud of both of you."
Once again, the room paid tribute with applause. For a brief moment, Lurcard lowered his head to hide his emotions.
"Mr. Goma and Mr. Johntoms, the floor is yours!" announced the dean.
Immediately, Lurcard raised his head and fixed his audience with a sharp, determined gaze. Then he turned toward his classmate, giving him the floor.
Allan stepped up to the lectern with a resolute stride, stopping at the edge of the stage. As he watched his partner gain confidence and begin their presentation, Lurcard smiled, full of pride.
Allan cleared his throat."Ladies and gentlemen. Esteemed professors. Honored presidents and distinguished audience," he began with notable poise."My partner and I are going to present to you what we have called The Seas of Death."
This caused a sharp tension to ripple through the crowd—except for Helga, who, without hesitation, beamed with a wide smile. Finally, a bit of adventure! she rejoiced inwardly.
"A small clarification, ladies and gentlemen!" interjected Lurcard. "The title of our presentation is not meant to evoke death itself, but rather to emphasize the dangers involved in exploration. To carry out this project, Allan was in charge of mapping our nautical charts to provide you with a visual representation of the route we will be taking. He also calculated the distances and identified minor errors…
— As for Lurcard," continued Allan, "he also examined the charts with me, but his role was focused on researching the small mistakes and inconsistencies we discovered."
"Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to follow us on our exploration?" Lurcard called out to the auditorium.
"Yes!" Helga replied in a booming voice across the room.
This did not fail to elicit a reaction from the audience, who all turned to stare at her. Lurcard gave a discreet smile and turned to his friend. Allan looked toward the back of the stage."Could we have the maps, please?" he asked.
The next moment, a world map was projected onto the large curtain. The map immediately caught the eye of the more attentive viewers. The dean, the academic staff, and the presidents were all intrigued by the route traced on the map—a red line starting from the continent, with stars marking the stopovers, leading toward an unknown part of the world map.
Seeing the audience's reaction, Lurcard and Allan were pleased with the impact they had made.
"Shall we begin?" Allan asked, his voice full of confidence.