“He really thinks I’m that good?” Isabella whispered.
“He knows you are,” I replied. “Now, listen carefully. When we get to the school, you’re going to stay in the back with Principal Rice. I’m going to go to the main seating area. I want you to avoid your mother until you are standing at that podium.”
“Dad, she’s going to be in the front row. She’ll try to stop me.”
“She won’t,” I said. “Because I’ll be sitting right next to her.”
We arrived at the high school at 6:30 PM. The parking lot was a chaotic sea of minivans, SUVs, and students in fluttering navy gowns. I saw the Mann family’s black Mercedes parked in the VIP section. Candace was already there, no doubt holding court with her parents, maintaining the fiction that her daughter was “unwell” and would be missing the ceremony.
Principal Rice met us at the side entrance. She ushered Isabella into a back room, zipping her into the fresh gown Arnold Costa had provided. It was a perfect fit. She then handed her the gold honor cords—thick, braided symbols of her academic dominance.
“You look like a leader, Isabella,” Vera said, her voice softening. “Now, go show them why.”
I made my way into the auditorium. It was a cavernous space, smelling of floor wax and nervous energy. I scanned the front row and saw her. Candace looked impeccable. She wore a cream-colored designer dress and pearls, her hair styled in perfect, cold waves. To her left sat Roger and Lynn Mann, both looking as if they were attending a funeral rather than a graduation.
I walked down the center aisle, feeling the eyes of the local socialites on me. I took the empty seat directly to Candace’s right.
She stiffened as if I were a contagion. “Steven? What are you doing here? I told you, Isabella is having a nervous breakdown. She’s back at the house.”
“Is she?” I asked, my voice conversational. “That’s strange. I could have sworn I just saw her.”
Candace’s eyes flashed with a frigid anger. “Don’t start your games, Steven. She isn’t coming. She’s a failure who couldn’t handle the pressure of graduation. I’ve already informed the school board that she’s withdrawing.”
“Well,” I said, leaning back and crossing my legs. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what the Principal has to say about that.”
The lights dimmed. The processional began.
