“She didn’t tell me,” I whispered, my chest tightening with a complex cocktail of pride and incandescent rage.
“She was informed yesterday,” Vera said. “She told me she wanted to surprise her father at the dinner afterward. She wanted to give you one untainted moment of joy.”
The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked together with a sickening metallic snap. Candace hadn’t shredded that gown because Isabella was a “failure.” She had shredded it because she had found out she was the best.
Vera Rice leaned back, her eyes narrowing. “You should know that Meredith Bird’s mother, Erin Bird, sits on the school board with Candace. They’ve been locked in a social arms race for fifteen years. Candace must have found out through a leak on the board.”
I understood the pathology instantly. In Candace’s warped reality, Isabella’s success was an insult because it happened in a field she found “impractical”—environmental science. She had won, but she had won on her own terms, which meant she couldn’t claim credit for the victory. If she couldn’t own the Valedictorian, she would simply ensure the Valedictorian didn’t exist.
“I have a request, Vera,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous frequency. “I want to change the order of the ceremony. And I need a specific list of the guest speakers.”
Vera Rice studied me for a long time. Then, a sharp, wolfish smile touched her lips. “Candace Mann has spent the last three years trying to cut our ecology funding and calling Isabella’s independent study ‘tree-hugger nonsense.’ I think it’s time the school board saw what success actually looks like.”
“What about the gown?”
“I’ll have a fresh one in my office,” she promised. “And Steven? Make it count.”
I left the office and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. Arnold Costa. Arnold was an old-school tailor downtown who owed me a favor from when I designed his flagship store.
“Arnold, it’s Steven Griffin. I need a miracle. A full navy cap and gown, adult medium. I need it in an hour.”
“Graduation season, Steven? You’re asking for a miracle,” Arnold’s raspy voice crackled.
“Candace shredded my daughter’s gown three hours before the walk.”
The line went silent for a beat. “I’ll be at the shop in ten minutes. I’ll pull one from the back stock if I have to steal it from the manufacturer myself.”
