Dry mouth attacked her. What if she stumbled?
Their row stood and walked in a line to the side of the stage. The person in front of her moved forward one step. Trish turned to look at the audience in the bleachers. Her rooting section included David, her mom, Brad, and Patrick. Four tickets—that’s all they’d been allowed. If only her father were here to see her. Trish bit her lip against the
if only’s.
Her father
was
here. He wouldn’t miss it.
“Tricia Marie Evanston.” Head high, Trish took in a deep breath. She mounted the steps, shook hands and smiled at Mr. Patterson, and crossed the stage.
“Congratulations, Trish.” The superintendent handed her the crimson folder.
“Thank you.” She smiled at the camera, stepped forward, and down the stairs.
My own winner’s circle.
She clenched her fist and gave a triumphant pump at her side. Then head held high, she flipped the gold tassel to the other side.
She felt like dancing. Shouting. “Look out world! Here I come!” The ovation echoed off the rafters.