Everything I knew about kindness and responsibility came from him.
So I turned back to her.
“I’ll get tested,” I said.
The crowd murmured again.
“Not because you’re my mother,” I added, squeezing Dad’s hand, “but because he raised me to do the right thing.”
Dad wiped his eyes.
This time he didn’t pretend it was allergies.
A moment later the principal stepped forward.
“I believe,” she said, smiling toward us, “there’s only one person who should walk this graduate across the stage.”
The crowd erupted in applause.
I slipped my arm through Dad’s.
“You know you’re stuck with me forever, right?” I whispered.
He laughed softly.
Continued on the next page
