Chapter 20: Graduation

Graduation was on the second Saturday in June, on the football field, in eighty-degree heat.

The seniors sat in rows of folding chairs in navy gowns, fanning themselves with programs.

I was in the fourth row, between a boy I'd shared a locker hallway with for four years and a girl I had never spoken to.

Kayla sat three rows behind me, and Brett was across the aisle.

They had both been living in my house for four months.

Neither of them had asked me to be friends, and I had not offered.

They had washed their own dishes and paid for their own phones, and in March Brett had cried in the garage while pretending to look for a wrench.

The bleachers were full, and Esther sat in the front row in her green vest, with a thermos.

Gary sat beside her in a tie, the first tie I had ever seen him wear without being told.

Behind them, up near the top of the stands, I saw a camel coat in the heat.

Janet had come early to get her seat.

She had a blue folder on her lap.

The principal gave the welcome, and then the superintendent gave a speech about futures.

A student sang, and a band played, and they began to read the scholarship names.

"Hallie Braeburn," the principal said. "Full scholarship, University of Pennsylvania."

The applause was big, and it was warm, and it came from people I had walked past for years.

I stood up.

"Excuse me!"

Janet's voice came down from the top of the bleachers, loud and pitched to carry.

"Excuse me, I have something the school should know."

Heads turned.

She was already coming down the steps with the folder held against her chest, past the row where the pastor's wife sat with her hands folded.

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