That leaving meant abandoning.
That perfection was something you could measure.
And then he exposed something worse.
Something I had never admitted.
I had been measuring him too.
The auditorium rose.
Not slowly.
Almost all at once.
Three hundred people stood.
Teachers.
Parents.
Students.
The principal.
Hannah.
Everyone.
The applause thundered through the room.
Ethan jumped slightly at the volume.
Then he smiled so hard his glasses fogged.
He pulled them off and wiped them on his shirt.
The woman hosting the ceremony leaned toward him.
“Would you like Claire to come up?”
Ethan stared at her as though she’d asked whether water was wet.
“That’s the point.”
The room exploded with laughter.
I walked toward the stage.
By then I could barely see.
I climbed the steps.
Ethan opened his arms.
I hugged him.
Hard.
He smelled like Mom’s laundry detergent and the peppermint gum he constantly chewed.
I whispered, “You made all of this?”
