Chapter 22: Devin's POV: The Fellowship

Devin's POV

Harmon Hall held two hundred people, and by ten to six every seat was taken.

Megan had said to bring anyone you love, and the program had done exactly that.

I sat in the front row, as invited, with an empty chair on each side of me.

My father and Shane's father sat in the back in their good jackets, shoulder to shoulder, not speaking.

Jo stood against the side wall in a dark green dress with her hospital lanyard still on.

The girl from the ER sat three rows behind me, holding her wrist in her lap.

Megan's roommate was in the second row with a cream-colored purse on her knees and both arms around it.

At the AV table at the back, the girl who filmed everything sat with her laptop open.

Her face was white.

She looked at me once.

I nodded.

The dean introduced the Lisbon Fellowship in a warm voice, with a long list of thank-yous.

Then Megan walked up to the podium.

She wore a cream dress and her gold hoops.

She carried a cream folder to the lectern in both hands.

The room clapped.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you all. I'm going to keep this short."

She did not.

She spoke for eight minutes about courage and healing and the friends who had stood by her.

She said there was something she had carried alone for four years, and tonight she wanted to be brave.

She described a girl at a birthday party and a boy she'd trusted.

She never said his name.

The room had gone soft and sorry for her.

"And I would like to invite a very dear friend up here," she said.

"He has agreed to read something for me. Shane?"

Shane stood up from the aisle seat.

He wore his old varsity jacket, not the gray shirt.

He walked to the stage with his shoulders level.

Megan smiled at him, tender and proud.

She held out the folder.

"You know your lines," she said into the microphone, and the audience chuckled.

Shane took the folder.

He opened it and looked down at the first page.

Then he closed it and laid it on the lectern, squared to the edge.

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