Reality was this robe.
Reality was my name printed in the program.
Reality was the dean waiting outside the door to escort me to the stage.
Ms. Carter handed me a folder. “Your speech, Dr. Hensley.”
I looked at the pages.
Then I closed the folder.
“I’m not using it.”
Her eyes widened. “The speech was approved by the board.”
“I know.”
Dean Bradley, standing nearby, crossed his arms. “Should I be nervous?”
“Yes,” I said.
He smiled. “Excellent.”
The ceremony began twenty minutes late. The official reason was “weather delays.” I almost laughed when I heard it through the backstage speakers. In a way, it was true. There had been a storm. Just not the kind listed on university schedules.
I stood behind the curtain as the procession moved. Names were announced. Faculty took their seats. Families applauded. I peeked through a narrow gap and found them almost instantly.
My father sat in the third row of the VIP section, stiff and furious. My stepmother sat beside him, whispering behind her program. Haley looked miserable, holding her phone in both hands, no longer smiling. My stolen ticket had been replaced with a regular guest badge. That alone seemed to have wounded her deeply.
Good.
Let her survive the tragedy of not being special for one afternoon.
Then Dean Bradley approached the podium.
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