Always working.
Always around.
When I was a teenager, he used to nod at me every morning in the hallway.
I never knew much about him.
Years later, when Sophie enrolled at Westbridge High School, I realized he was still there.
Older now.
Gray hair.
Same quiet nod.
I had seen him at parent nights.
School plays.
Sports events.
He seemed to have spent his entire life in those hallways.
“Funny,” I said as I parked.
Sophie looked at me.
“What?”
“Some people just stay.”
She stared through the windshield.
Then quietly said:
“Yeah.”
I should have noticed the way she answered.
I didn’t.
I THOUGHT I KNEW EXACTLY HOW GRADUATION WOULD GO
The school had created a special tradition.
Each graduating senior chose one person who had helped them get through school.
When their name was called, that person would walk beside them across the field.
Obviously, I assumed Sophie had chosen me.
Who else?
Every school event since kindergarten, she had hooked her arm through mine.
When she was too small to see a stage, I lifted her onto my shoulders.
When she cried after her first bad grade, I sat beside her until midnight.
When she got sick, I slept outside her bedroom.
When some boy broke her heart sophomore year, I bought ice cream and pretended not to notice she was crying.
This was our walk.
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.
