Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“How was the meeting?” he asked, his voice gruff as he turned off the water.
“They dismissed it,” I said, setting my purse on the counter.
“Vance told them I was too emotional to understand the rules,” I said.
Brian took a slow sip of water, his eyes fixed on the dark window pane in front of him.
He rubbed his temples with his free hand, a familiar gesture that always meant he was closing himself off.
He did not look at me, but kept his gaze near the wall where the calendar hung, the month of June still showing all of Olivia’s graduation events in her neat pencil.
“I warned you this would happen, Margaret,” he said.
“You went there expecting them to be reasonable,” he said.
“I expected them to care about a student who died,” I said.
“They care about their jobs,” Brian said, setting the glass on the counter with a soft thud.
“They care about the school board and the town image,” he said.
“You cannot force people to feel what you feel,” he said.
“I just wanted her name spoken,” I said.
