Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“Is that before or after the administration fees?” I asked.
“Before,” he said. “But Arthur waived his filing costs, so every penny of Olivia’s college fund is sitting right where it belongs now.”
I picked up the next folder, feeling the slight grain of the paper under my fingertips. The name on the tab was a girl from the high school track team, a quiet runner who had spent her senior year volunteering at the local animal shelter.
“What did she write about?” Brian asked, leaning in to look.
“She wrote about the dogs that nobody wants to adopt,” I said, scanning the neat print on the page. “The old ones with grey muzzles. She says they deserve to spend their last years sleeping in the sun instead of on a concrete floor.”
“She is right,” Brian said. “They do.”
“She needs four thousand dollars to cover her first semester of tuition at the state college,” I said. “Her mother works at the dry cleaners on Main Street.”
“We can do that,” Brian said, his hand reaching out to touch the corner of the folder. “We can do more than that if we budget the interest for the winter term.”
