Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“He is watching every corridor,” Kayla said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He has the teachers checking the restrooms for copies.”
“We will find another way,” I said, though my chest felt tight with a sudden, heavy pressure.
At three in the afternoon, Arthur met me at the town library, where the air was thick with the smell of old paper and damp carpets from the basement storage.
We sat at the only public computer terminal in the corner of the local history room, surrounded by dusty shelves of town directories.
Arthur took off his spectacles and polished them with a grey silk cloth before pointing at the glowing monitor.
“The school board keeps their meeting minutes archived on the county server,” Arthur said, his deep baritone quiet in the empty room. “We need to look at the resolution they passed in April.”
I leaned closer to the screen, watching him scroll through a long list of digital files on the yellow legal pad he had laid across the desk.
“There,” I said, pointing to a document titled Resolution Eighty-Two.
