“See, Mom?” he had said. “The principal knows I’m still part of the class.”
I had forgotten about that letter.
Emma had not.
“Why are you asking?” I said.
She shook her head.
“I just wanted to remember what Felix said about it.”
Then she put the envelope away.
I didn’t ask again.
On graduation morning, the school gym was decorated with blue and white balloons. Rows of folding chairs filled the floor, and proud families crowded the entrance with flowers, cameras, and phones.
The graduating students gathered near the stage in matching gowns.
Then Emma walked through the doors carrying Felix.
For three seconds, people simply stared.
The cardboard figure was almost her height. His graduation cap sat slightly crooked, and his gown had been carefully fastened around the edges so it wouldn’t slip.
Emma held him by the shoulders as if she were helping an exhausted friend stand upright.
