Josh Meltzer | The Roanoke Times

With his turntable and Eminem record on his desk, Jorge "Lee" Cuestas adjusts his tie in a mirror before his graduation ceremony. He plans on attending college to learn music production.

Annoyed, at first, with his mother Mintrawattie Poole's presence at his graduation from the Gus Mitchell School in Salem, Jorge "Lee" Cuestas gets his cap adjusted while his siblings Roberto Cuestas (left) and Chandra Poole (right) look on.

"I can be an angry person at times," Cuestas says of his temper while working out in the gym at the Gus Mitchell School in Salem a day before his graduation.

Graduation season has come and gone, and left Jorge Cuestas Jr. -- Lee to friends -- with a high school diploma.

An almost-diploma, really, since he has a session of summer school first. But in his 17 years, Lee has traveled farther than most seniors to put on a cap and gown and get, as he puts it, that "piece of paper."

He has bounced between coasts and lived overseas, been kicked out of school and learned self-discipline at a Baptist residential care facility on a hill in Salem.

And on June 13, Lee joined the largest graduating class in the history of the center's Gus Mitchell School: four.

"I'm happy I could make my mom happy," he said last week, sitting outside HopeTree Family Services, his home for the past 16 months.

"Just can't wait to get to college, then can't wait to get a real job. Can't wait to get wealthy," he continued, imagining life after he turns 18 and leaves in August. "It's like a giant math equation."

High school did not fit in Lee's plans a few years ago. His mother and stepfather were stationed with the U.S. Army in Germany, then Iraq, making him a refugee in the home of an aunt, then grandparents. He thought of dropping out of school, joining a gang and "doing a Mafia type thing."

Lee has a thin goatee and an athletic build, and when asked to describe himself, answered "moody" and, girls tell him, "good-looking." He hasn't seen his father, the Salvadoran man who gave him a first name he doesn't like, since he was a little boy. He has struggled to get along with his stepfather.

"Fifth grade is when I started my emotions," he said. Anger.

When he was 15, Lee was living with his parents in Germany and was caught shoplifting at the Army post exchange. He was sent home to relatives in Virginia, where he mentioned truancy, then quickly, getting "caught with a weapon" -- a knife.

He came to HopeTree in February 2007. There, on a campus founded as an orphanage more than a century ago, he has lived the second longest of any home he has ever had, he said. HopeTree "changed my world."

Lee mellowed from the short-tempered teenager he was when he arrived. He took a part-time job with a preschool group. He produced a rap album with another resident.

Lee is "not a highly religious guy," he explained, and credited his turnaround to straight thinking. He mentioned the influence of a former member of the HopeTree night staff and the encouragements of his girlfriend, Annais.

"I don't want to put up with you being in jail," Lee recalled her saying. "That's a motivation right there."

Lee's mother returned from Iraq in the spring and visited several times, bringing Lee's three younger siblings, who adore him.

Before his graduation, on a sunny Friday morning, the family gathered in the lounge of Lee's cottage. Lee swept in wearing the tuxedo he had worn to his prom in May.

"A lot of people looking at Lee like they never seen him look good before," he said, mock anger on his face. "Every day, I look good."

"So snotty," said his mother, Mintrawattie Poole, with a smile. Later, she added, "I always try to make a big deal about things like this because I want him to feel the glory."

Come August, Lee plans to move to Maryland, to be close to his girlfriend and go to community college. He hopes to study music production, seeing his future in rap.

Tommy Barber, the education director for HopeTree, said the facility helps its graduates make these transitions, paying tuition for alumni who go on to technical school, college, even graduate school.

"These kids are fragile. They've had a life of inconsistency and disappointments," Barber said of the two to three dozen youth residents who stay at HopeTree's Salem campus in a typical year -- the majority of whom receive "benevolent care" at no cost.

"We've seen in Lee, and now he's seen in himself, what he's capable of," Barber said.

After graduation services, families gathered in the HopeTree chapel for lunch. Lee was last to fill his plate, lingering over boxes of pizza. He had something to add to his story: Yes, he's been angry, he's been in trouble, he said. But that's just like a lot of teenagers.

Then he joined his family to open a tall stack of graduation cards. His favorite card was from his stepfather.