She and Eva walked through the chattering crowd of family and friends who had come to see the class of 2004 graduate. Lexi kept her head down, not making eye contact with the reporters at the flagpole. As she passed them, she heard one of them say, “Two hundred and seventy-two seniors, Phil. It should have been two hundred and seventy-three.”
At the edge of the football field, Lexi paused.
“You better hurry,” Eva said. “We’re late.”
Lexi nodded, but as she looked at the rows of folding chairs set up on the green football field, she felt sick to her stomach.
“I’m proud of you, Alexa,” her aunt said. “You’re a good girl. And don’t you dare think otherwise.”
Eva gave her a bright smile and then disappeared into the crowd of proud parents streaming up into the bleachers.
Lexi saw the Farradays up there. Jude and Miles were seated in the second row, with Molly and Tim and Grandmother Caroline. Even from here, Lexi could see how pale and thin Jude looked. The black sunglasses she wore accentuated the pallor of her skin and the sharpness of her cheekbones. She had no lipstick on, and she was carrying Mia’s pink purse.
Lexi knew then she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t walk through this crowd and go into the gymnasium, where all her friends were dressed in caps and gowns, waiting to walk triumphantly to the seats on the field. She couldn’t see Zach, not on this day, when Mia’s absence would be so keenly felt.
She pulled off her cap and unzipped her gown, stuffing them both in her big patchwork purse. She was about to leave when the class of 2004 filed onto the field, a stream of royal blue and marigold yellow robes against a cloudless sky.
She moved into one of the empty aisles beneath the bleachers. On the field below, her classmates moved into their assigned seats.
Zach was walking alone. In sunglasses （probably to protect his burned eyes in this bright sunlight）， with his shaved head and burned jawline, he hardly looked like himself. Like Jude, there was a new hollowness to his face, and he wasn’t smiling.
When the last of the seniors had taken their seats, the audience burst into applause.
Amid the noise, Principal Yates walked onto the stage and stood at the podium. He spoke eloquently about Pine Island and what it was like to grow up on land that was surrounded by water, how it strengthened the sense of community. At the end of his speech, he said, “This is a class that has been touched by a sudden, terrible tragedy, and these students who were on their way to adulthood have grown up in the past week. We hope as they move forward and are faced with choices in their lives, both big and small, they will remember what they learned about consequences in the year 2004.” He gave the class a sad, knowing smile. “And now, Amanda Martin is going to sing a song in memory of a very special girl, who should have been with us today.”
Lexi tried to steel herself, but when the music began, she felt a terrible ache in her chest. And then Amanda’s voice, pure and sweet, rang out: “I can show you the world … shining, shimmering, splendid…”
The song brought Mia bursting back to life, twirling on the dance floor, singing off-key. She’d loved the Disney movies so much. I’m Ariel, she used to say all the time. You’re Belle. No Snow White or Cinderella, not for us; we’re the new-school Disney girls … we go for what we want …
Lexi wasn’t the only one sobbing when Amanda finished her song. At least half of the senior class was crying.
The applause was thunderous, and when it faded once again, the commencement began. One by one, her friends’ names were called, and blue-robed girls and boys bounded onto the stage to take their diplomas and wave to the crowd.
“Alexa Baill.”
The audience stilled. People looked around.
Onstage, the principal cleared his throat and went on. “Andrew Clark…”
Lexi’s heart pounded. She was sure someone would point to her, yell, “There she is; there’s the girl who killed Mia.”
“Zachary Farraday.”
Zach walked woodenly up the aisle and onto the stage. He took his diploma from the principal and faced the bleachers. Slowly, he upheld a framed photograph of Mia and then leaned closer to the microphone. “She wanted to do a cartwheel today…”
A cartwheel, Lexster … that would get their attention.
Lexi sagged back against the sun-warmed concrete wall, closing her eyes. The ceremony went on, calling names and handing out diplomas, but she hardly noticed. All she could hear were memories, things Mia had said to her over the years …