Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“Are you even coming to the gymnasium on Saturday?” I asked.
He did not look at me as he turned toward the hallway, his shoulders hunched.
“I have a lot of work to finish at the shop,” Brian said.
The sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs was the only answer he gave, leaving me alone in the quiet dining room.
Arthur sat behind his heavy walnut desk the next morning, a silk cloth in his hand as he polished his spectacles. The room smelled of old paper and leather, a quiet sanctuary from the bright June sun outside.
I sat in the leather chair opposite him, watching him set his glasses back on his nose and adjust his tie.
“The school board guidelines are very specific about graduation eligibility,” Arthur said, his calm, resonant baritone filling the small office.
He pulled a thick black binder from the shelf behind his chair and laid it open between us on the desk.
“If a student completed the required coursework before passing, their name must be included in the official program,” he said.
