Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“It is her name,” I said. “And she earned it.”
“She is gone, Margaret,” Brian said, his voice cracking slightly before he pulled it back into a hard, flat line. “No amount of shouting at the school board is going to bring her back to this room.”
“I am not shouting,” I said, zipping the suitcase shut. “I am just leaving.”
“If you walk out that door, Margaret, I am not coming with you,” Brian said.
“I know,” I said.
I picked up the handle of the suitcase and walked past him down the hallway, the silence in the house heavier than any argument we had ever had.
The air inside Arthur’s office was cool and still, smelling faintly of lemon wax and old paper. Arthur sat behind his desk, his large frame filling the high-backed leather chair. He took off his spectacles and began polishing them with a small silk cloth, his movements slow and practiced.
“I reviewed the municipal code and the district charter after you called, Margaret,” Arthur said, his calm, resonant baritone filling the quiet room. “The school district has absolute authority over the campus during private, ticketed events. Legally, the trespass order is completely valid.”
