Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“She looks terrified,” Brian whispered beside me.
“She promised Olivia she would do something,” I said.
“What did she promise?” Brian asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, watching her blue gown disappear into the front rows.
When the seniors had all taken their seats, Principal Vance stepped up to the wooden podium at the center of the stage. He adjusted the gooseneck microphone, the static cutting through the gym with a sharp, metallic hiss that made several people in the front rows wince. He wore a heavy black academic robe that looked far too warm for the June heat, and his gold pen was tucked neatly into his breast pocket.
“Welcome, parents, faculty, and distinguished guests,” Vance said, his voice smooth and professional as it echoed off the concrete walls. “Today, we celebrate the culmination of four years of dedication, growth, and excellence.”
I looked down at our joined hands, the weight of the moment pressing into my shoulders like a physical hand. Every word from the podium felt like a barrier, a deliberate attempt to pretend the last four years had been perfect and uncomplicated.
