Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“And now they think we are the ones causing trouble,” Brian said.
He wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked toward the hallway.
“I am going to bed,” he said.
He left the room, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.
I stood by the counter, the silence of the house settling around me like dust.
I looked at my own reflection in the dark kitchen window, my face pale and unfamiliar in the glass.
The next morning at ten, Arthur sat behind his desk with a heavy green volume open in front of him. He polished his spectacles with a small square of grey silk, his eyes narrowed against the glare from the window.
“There is a section here under the state education code,” Arthur said, his deep voice filling the quiet room. “Section thirty-three, paragraph four.”
“Does it mention graduation?” I asked.
He set his glasses back on his nose and tapped a thick finger against the cream-colored page. “It says any student who completes at least eighty percent of the required coursework before their passing is eligible for an honorary diploma.”
