Then she looked up.
“My name is Adriana Vale,” she said.
Her voice was quiet, but the microphone carried it into every corner of the room.
“I know most of you were expecting me to walk across this stage alone.”
A murmur moved through the audience, then vanished just as quickly.
Adriana tightened her hold on the baby, not nervously now, but protectively.
“I was expecting that too.”
My chest ached so suddenly that I had to grip the edge of my seat.
This was not part of the ceremony. There had been speeches by the valedictorian, the class president, and the superintendent. Adriana had not been listed anywhere in the program except among the graduates.
She should have walked across, smiled for a picture, and returned to her seat.
Instead, she was standing beneath the lights, eighteen years old, holding a newborn, facing a room full of people who thought they already knew her story.
