At least, that was what I believed.
Before she joined the graduates, Sophie kissed my cheek.
“Save me a seat in front.”
“Always.”
I smiled.
She walked away.
And I sat down certain I knew how the day would end.
“SOPHIE BENNETT.”
The principal stepped toward the microphone.
“Each senior has chosen one person who helped them make it across this field.”
Parents applauded.
“Please step forward together when your name is called.”
I straightened my tie.
Names came one after another.
Mothers.
Fathers.
Grandparents.
Coaches.
Teachers.
Then:
“Sophie Bennett.”
I stood immediately.
My hand lifted toward her.
I was already smiling.
Waiting for her arm to slip through mine.
Sophie walked toward my row.
Then passed me.
At first, I thought she simply hadn’t seen me.
“Sophie?”
She didn’t stop.
Her mouth trembled.
Her eyes were wet.
But she kept walking.
Past me.
Past the bleachers.
Toward the edge of the track.
