First Prize Winner - Youth Writers Short Story Prize 2026

The Leap by Tamika Retallack

I thought I’d know what to say when this moment came. You spend so much time trying to fit pivotal experiences into a few words you hope conveys the emotion and life within; but what do you do when you’re speechless? When something is so intense, words don’t come close to capturing what’s before you.
That was how high school graduation felt.
Now I knew it was coming, of course I did. I counted down the seconds every time I was troubled with an assignment, every time I was trapped in a room of screaming kids drilling deafening noise into my ears, and every time I would stare out the stained windows wondering what was to come when it was my time to step out.
And here I am now. In line to walk up onto the lit-up stage, the one I spent years dancing and laughing on, to finally see where all those years led me.
So why do I feel like that light is illuminating something more? The stage lights feel warmer than before, almost intrusive; as if it’s projecting everything I tried not to think about. What it took to get here. What I might lose.
I think of the amber skies creeping in through the window during the last classes of the day, reflecting off my friends’ bright smiles when laughing about things that felt so small but so large in my heart. I think of the sunny lunch times where everyone sat in a circle relaying their day and playing catch, the joy of the moment caught in the sunlight in their hair. And most of all, I think about how ready each and every one was for this day. How their futures shone through them, begging to be released from the cracks of the school to finally have a chance to shine the way they are supposed to. I thought I was like that too. But I guess their hypnotising light blinded me from recognising I had none of my own.
What if I pick something and realise I made the wrong choice? There are so many possibilities to the point they stretch out so far that I see nothing at all. I like writing, but is that what I’m meant to do? Does it fuel me with energy when I’m tired? Does it ignite something in me like it seems to for everyone else? Could I even make it a career?
The line is shortening, pushing more people off to the edge of their freedom. My heart starts to thump, turning the excitement into something closer to dread. Making the line in front of me feel like walking down the plank to awaiting sharks in pirate tales.
I want to run away. I want to run to the light outside with my friends, complaining about school and laughing the trivial things away. I want to feel safe again.
I feel the weight of someone looking at me from behind, although it doesn’t match the intensity consuming me. It feels gentle, like something warm. I turn around.
It’s Nancy.
When my eyes connect to hers that pool with blue and green, it feels like something snaps into place. Like every cloudy thought drifts away, revealing the reality of the sky and how it’s always present. I cling to her gaze, fearing the feeling may leave me. She doesn’t say anything – she just looks at me with a tender smile, steady and calm. Her eyes remind me of what I already know. All the nervous conversations we had before and how they always ended with clarity. How believing in the best, that everything will be okay, that the dreams forming in my head will be there to guide and evolve me, is the most real thing I can have.
The words she told me one night in particular at a sleepover, after another endless ramble of my fears interrupted her sleep, instantly come to my mind. As if she telepathically sent them with just a look:
“Do you know why people say ‘dare to dream?’ It is because when you put faith into something, when you dive off that cliff hoping to find a landing, you don’t truly know if there really is one. But when you dare to believe that there is something down there, you have already gone further than everyone still at the top.”
The person in front of me is called now. It rings in the air like a bell starting a boxing match, although at least now I feel like I have some boxing gloves. My stance feels stronger, and I turn and lock eyes with the light on the stage.
A part of me still just wants to cling onto Nancy and hide away. To make my friend take my place so I don’t have to face that the credits are truly rolling on this chapter. For some fire to break out so the graduation ceremony can be held later.
I know that can’t happen, and I know above all else that I’m ready. The warm light reminds me. It reminds me of the laughs, the annoyances, and the troubles of school; but it also reminds me of how those memories will never truly leave. That those gold embers that formed through the warm memories of the past will light up my future.
I don’t know what’s out there for me. I barely have a clue on what I’m going to do tomorrow.
“Jessica Rowlings.”
But I know I will dare myself to keep going. To dream.
I walk on stage.
I grab my certificate.
The cheers of parents and family echo out as I walk off.
I did it.
When I walk to the exit, I see cracks of light, golden light, lining the old door. I take a shaky breath and reach for the handle.
When I open it, light spills across my face. I step forward before my nerves catch up.
Because I took the leap.