Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“He was so polite about it,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“Of course he was,” Kayla said. “Because if you agree to this, his problem goes away. The school board stays happy, and the graduation goes off without anyone having to remember what we lost.”
A bell rang above our heads, a loud, brassy tone that signaled the start of the next period. The students began to scatter, leaving the wide corridor suddenly empty and quiet.
“Don’t sign anything yet,” Kayla said, turning toward her classroom. “Just promise me you won’t agree to their private little meeting.”
I walked out of the school and straight to the town library, where Arthur had asked me to meet him at one o’clock. The new wing of the library was bright and smelled of fresh carpet and fresh paint, a stark contrast to the dark oak shelves of the older section.
Arthur was waiting near the main lobby, polishing his spectacles with a small silk cloth. He looked up and smiled as I approached, his calm, resonant baritone filling the quiet space.
“Did you speak with Vance?” he asked, tucking the cloth back into his breast pocket.
