Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
I carried Olivia’s white graduation cap in both hands, holding it flat against my coat.
Kayla stood near locker one hundred and twelve, a roll of blue painter’s tape in her hand.
She was decorating the metal door with paper stars.
She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and dropped her tape when she saw me.
“Mrs. Miller,” she said, her words rushing together with rapid energy.
“I didn’t think you would be here today.”
“I came to see the administration,” I said.
Kayla looked down at the white cap in my arms, then back up, her eyes moving quickly.
“Principal Vance is acting really distant about the ceremony,” she whispered.
“He told us we couldn’t put her picture on the memorial board in the lobby.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“He said it was school policy, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye,” Kayla said.
“He has been in his office with the door shut all morning.”
The gold pen in Principal Vance’s hand made a steady, sharp clicking sound against his polished mahogany desk.
He offered me a seat with a quick, polite nod that did not reach his eyes.
“We want to keep the focus on the achievements of the graduating class, Margaret,” he said.
“I only want to sit in her designated seat,” I said.
I spoke slowly, holding my silver locket tightly between my fingers.
“Just to hold her place in the row.”
He tapped the pen twice more against the paper blotter.
“The seating chart was finalized three weeks ago,” Vance said.
“The county guidelines do not allow us to leave empty chairs on the gymnasium floor.”
I stood up, letting go of the silver locket.
“I understand,” I said.
I walked out of the school and drove home through the quiet streets of Oak Creek.
The afternoon light came through the window, shining directly on the kitchen table.
