Chapter Twenty-Four
Five years later
“Ashleigh Johnson.”
Until the moment my name is called, part of me doesn’t believe it’s real. I stand up and climb the steps to the stage. The band plays their short crossing-the-stage montage. It’s a small department in a small school, with a graduating class of 20 in the School of Natural Science. The dean smiles at me and mispronounced my name—Ash-lee—and hands me a rolled sheet of paper. We pose for pictures. It feels like a blur, like maybe this is a dream instead of real.
Only when I’m crossing the other side do I see him.
The audience sits on white folding chairs across the green lawn, the mass of them moving. Parents. Siblings. Friends. That’s why he stands out. Other people look down and leaf through the program. Other people wave at their
