“That is not something you say to make your father less nervous.”
She laughed, but the laugh broke halfway through.
“Come on. We’re going to be late.”
Roosevelt High held graduation on the football field every June.
The same football field where I had played badly for two seasons before finally admitting I was not destined for athletic greatness.
The same hallways I had walked as a teenager.
And, strangely enough, some of the same people still worked there.
One of them was an older custodian named Walter Reed.
At least, I thought his name was Walter.
I wasn’t even certain.
That realization would haunt me later.
When I attended Roosevelt, he had been a young maintenance worker who swept the halls before first period.
He was quiet.
Always polite.
He nodded at everyone.
Years later, when Lily became a student there, he was still around.
