Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“I cannot do this with you,” he said. “I cannot spend every night fighting the school board and the principal.”
“I am not asking you to fight them,” I said. “I am asking you to stand with me.”
“I am standing right here,” he said, but his eyes were fixed on the back door. “I just want to get through the next two weeks without making this family a spectacle.”
“We are already a spectacle, Brian,” I said. “We are the parents of the girl who is not allowed to have her name read.”
He did not answer. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, his heavy footsteps fading as he moved toward the garage.
The sun had set by the time I drove to the high school, leaving only a thin band of purple light along the western horizon. The parking lot was nearly empty, except for a few cars near the administrative wing where the lights were still burning.
I waited in my car until I saw Principal Vance walk out the double doors. He was carrying a leather briefcase, his gold pen clipped to his breast pocket, shining faintly under the mercury vapor lights of the parking lot.
