The convention doors opened behind us.
Students began pouring outside.
Somebody called Nathan’s name.
I barely heard it.
“So what does any of this have to do with today?”
Noah looked toward the building.
“Evan asked us to qualify for state.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
“Noah.”
“We need you to trust us for another few hours.”
“I am your mother.”
“We know.”
Nathan reached for my hand.
“And
everything we’re doing today is because you’re our mother.
”
I looked from one face to the other.
Then at the convention center where Michael’s name hung forty feet high on a banner.
For the first time in thirteen years, I felt something stronger than grief.
Fear.
5
At four o’clock, the awards ceremony began.
The auditorium was enormous.
Rows of blue seats curved toward a stage framed by state flags, sponsor logos, and university banners.
I sat near the aisle.
Michael and Rebecca sat four rows behind me.
Evan was with them.
Noah and Nathan sat in the competitor section near the front.
Professor Park sat among the judges.
I tried to concentrate on the announcements.
History.
Computer Science.
Biology.
Engineering.
Then:
“Applied Mathematics.”
My heart began pounding.
Third place.
Second place.
Neither Noah.
I gripped the program.
“And first place, with a final score of 98.7 and unanimous judges’ recommendation…”
Pause.
“
Noah Hartley, Westbrook Regional High School.
”
The auditorium erupted.
I stopped breathing.
Noah walked to the stage.
Seventeen years collapsed into one second.
The premature baby who once weighed less than four pounds.
The six-year-old who waited beside a telephone on his birthday.
The ten-year-old who asked whether his father remembered his name.
The teenager now walking beneath bright stage lights while hundreds applauded him.
Professor Park placed the medal around his neck.
Then she hugged him.
