Chapter 6
My name was called near the end.
“Emma Parker.”
I stood.
My knees shook.
Mr. Harris waited at the edge of the stage.
Beside him stood Dad.
He looked confused.
Then Mr. Harris handed him the program.
“As requested,” the principal said into the microphone, “Emma Parker will be escorted by her father, Mr. Thomas Parker.”
A murmur moved through the auditorium.
Dad looked at me.
I nodded.
He walked toward me carefully, as if the whole stage might vanish if he stepped wrong.
I took his arm.
His suit sleeve felt thin.
His hand covered mine.
We crossed the stage together.
Halfway across, Dad whispered, “Your shoes are untied.”
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Even here.
Still Dad.
I whispered back, “Keep walking.”
The audience clapped.
At first politely.
Then louder.
Maya stood up.
Then her parents.
Then more students.
By the time we reached the principal, the front half of the auditorium was standing.
Dad looked overwhelmed.
I took my diploma with one hand and held onto him with the other.
The photographer captured that moment.
My father in his old gray suit.
Me in my cap and gown.
May you like
His cracked shoes beside my polished ones.
Both of us standing.
