Chapter 9 - Graduation
In late May, the high school gymnasium was hot and smelled of floor wax and fresh-cut flowers.
I sat in the third row of folding chairs, wearing a dark blue cap and gown, looking out over the crowd of parents, farmers, teachers, and neighbors.
When Principal Harris called my name—"Carter Thomas Miller"—the roar from the left side of the bleachers was louder than I expected.
I looked up. Mr. Henderson was standing up, whistling through his teeth. Mr. Olsen from the grain elevator was clapping his big, calloused hands. Mr. Vance was sitting quietly in the second row, nodding with a soft smile.
And in the front row, sitting side-by-side, were Lily and my mother. Lily was holding a cardboard sign she had painted herself that said THAT'S MY BROTHER! in bright glitter letters.
I walked across the stage, took my diploma, and shook the principal's hand.
After the ceremony, we all gathered in the farm yard under the big walnut tree. The sun was setting over the western fields, throwing long, golden light across the eighty-four acres of green wheat that were blowing in the prairie breeze like sea water.
Mr. Olsen came up to me, holding a plastic cup of lemonade.
"What's the plan now, graduate?" he asked, looking out over the fields.
"I got accepted to the agricultural management program at Kansas State," I said, pulling the diploma case out of my pocket. "Night classes in Salina starting in August. And I'm staying right here."
"Going to farm it?"
"Going to farm it," I said. "I'm leasing thirty acres to the cooperative this fall to pay for Lily's tuition, and I'm planting the rest in soybeans next spring."
Olsen patted my shoulder, a heavy, proud weight. "Your granddad would be proud, Carter. Your grandma, too."
When the guests began to leave and the sky turned a deep, bruised purple shot through with orange, Lily and I walked out to the edge of the barn.
The barn doors were open wide. The fresh pine boards on the back wall were visible in the warm twilight, solid and clean against the old cedar studs.
"Do you ever think about that night?" Lily asked, leaning her head against my arm.
"Sometimes," I said. "When it rains hard."
"I used to be scared that Ray would come back," she said softly. "Or that Mom would leave again. Or that we'd get kicked out of somewhere else."
She looked out over the fields, her brown hair blowing across her face in the evening wind.
May you like
"I'm not scared anymore," she said.
"Good," I said, putting my arm around her. "Because nobody's kicking us out. Ever."
