“I’m okay.”
Before we left, he went upstairs alone.
When he returned, he had something tucked inside the hidden side pocket of the dress.
I didn’t ask what it was.
I should have.
The gymnasium held almost seven hundred people.
By the time Eli’s row stood, my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.
One student crossed.
Then another.
Then another.
Finally:
“Elias Carter.”
Eli walked toward the stage.
Halfway there, he unzipped his graduation gown.
Then removed it.
The red dress appeared.
The room reacted instantly.
Whispers.
Gasps.
Laughter.
Somebody actually clapped sarcastically.
I heard a man say,
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
My nails dug into my palms.
Eli kept walking.
He accepted his diploma.
Then stepped down.
But instead of returning to his seat, he walked straight toward me.
The laughter followed him.
