Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
“Vance told me the template was already locked,” I said. “He said the printer couldn’t change it.”
Arthur ran his finger down a photocopy of the school board bylaws, stopping at section four of the graduation protocols.
“The board has a contract with a printing company in Mansfield,” Arthur said. “They allow changes up to forty-eight hours before the ceremony begins.”
“So he could have added her name,” I said. “He had four days.”
Arthur picked up a red pen from his desk and drew a neat circle around the printing clause on the page.
“They are trying to make it seem as if she was never there, Arthur,” I said.
He looked at the red circle for a long moment, then set the pen down beside the paper.
“This is not a clerical error, Margaret,” Arthur said.
I stared at the red pen marks Arthur made on the copy of the school guidelines.
I bought a cup of lukewarm chamomile tea costing three dollars at the lobby cart, holding the paper cup to keep my hands warm while I watched Kayla.
