39

Mother Nature delivered blue skies and puffy white clouds for Cody’s graduation day. The football stadium was decked out in balloons and streamers in the school’s colors of green and white. Banners from local businesses congratulated the seniors.

“Look over here,” Dean insisted, snapping his fingers at Maggie like she was a distracted toddler. They were standing on the far side of the stadium’s concession stand while the school’s faculty and administration clumped together in their caps and gowns and sunglasses, ready to enjoy a student-free summer.

A whole summer off. Maggie wondered what she would do with that.

“Enough with the pictures,” she grumbled. Dean snapped a series of shots while she batted away the tassel that hung in her face. “I can’t believe I said yes to this.”

He lowered the camera and smirked. “I can’t believe you did either.”

When the high school principal had cornered her in the aisle at Tanner’s General Store and asked her to speak at the graduation, Maggie had been too intent on finding caulk to iterate a firm no. And when the woman had showered her with praise for everything she was doing for Cody, the Old Campbell Place, and young girls in the community, Maggie felt pressured to accept.

So there she was, staring at the rows of metal chairs positioned on the football field for faculty and the future of America, wishing she had ducked into the plumbing aisle instead.

“The kids are all lined up, and the marching band is warming up,” Dayana reported. “Last hair and makeup check.”

Maggie stood still while her sister reached into her gigantic designer mom bag and produced a travel-size hairspray. She fluffed and then shellacked Maggie’s hair. “I see Silas kissed your lipstick off,” she noted, handing Maggie a small mirror and a tube of very expensive lipstick. “Try this color.”

Since it gave her something to do, Maggie carefully applied the dusky rose color.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Dean asked, snapping a candid shot of the two women. “You speak to an audience of a million every week.”

Not in front of them though. Not directly to them. In Maggie’s mind, that was a distinct difference. The filter that allowed anonymous users to leave snarky, ignorant comments was also the same filter that cushioned her from the real-time, real-life reactions of her audience.

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “I’m just wishing I would have said no so I could enjoy the ceremony. It’s a big deal. And instead of basking in Cody’s achievements, I have to worry about giving a speech and not saying ‘shit’ and appalling an audience of grandmas and kids because there’s no editing.”

“She’s totes nervous,” Dean stage-whispered to Dayana.

“Am not,” Maggie argued.