小说园

第15部分（第2页）

stabbing　at　the　list　of　graduates　with　his　index　finger；　his　gray…blond　eyebrows　knitted　together　in

outrage。

Nate　picked　up　the　program　where　it　had　fallen　between　his　Church？s　of　London　tan　suede

lace…ups　and　studied　it　to　see　if　he　could　figure　out　what　his　dad？s　problem　was。　Forty…three　boys？

names　were　printed　neatly　in　navy　blue　in　two　concise　columns。　The　very　first　name　on　the　list

had　a　tiny　asterisk　next　to　it；　and　at　the　very　bottom　of　the　program；　next　to　a　matching　tiny

asterisk；　was　the　note；Diploma　pending　。　Nate　squinted；　wondering　if　his　thoroughly　baked　brain

was　playing　tricks　on　him；　but　there　it　was　again；　an　asterisk　next　to　his　name？Nathaniel

Fitzwilliam　Archibald。　*　Diploma　pending。

Fuck！

Father　Mark；　the　ancient　former　pastor　who？d　been　the　St。　Jude？s　principal　since　at　least　1947；

hunkered　over　the　podium　set　up　in　the　front　of　the　gym；　his　hands　shaking　as　he　began　to　read　out

the　boys？　names。　Of　course　Nate　was　first。　？Nathaniel　Fitzwilliam　Archibald！？

Nate　stood　up　and　walked　to　the　front　of　the　gym；　keeping　his　eyes　on　the　black　and　blue　lines

duct…taped　to　the　floor　for　hoops　and　floor　hockey。　？Way　to　go；　man；？　a　bunch　of　guys　whispered

sarcastically。　Nate？s　neck　burned　with　shame。　There　was　an　asterisk　next　to　his　name。

Father　Mark　handed　him　a　square　navy　blue　faux　leather　folder　and　shook　his　hand　just　like　he

was　supposed　to；　without　any　acknowledgment　of　the　asterisk。　Nate　turned　around　and　walked

back　to　his　seat；　nearly　colliding　with　Coach　Michaels；　who　was　blocking　the　aisle　in　his　frigging

red　Lands？　End　windbreaker。　He　grabbed　Nate？s　shirtsleeve　and　lunged　forward　to　whisper　in　his

ear。　？I？ve　got　your　number；　boy；？　he　wheezed；　then　patted　Nate　roughly　on　the　shoulder　before

letting　him　go。

？Aw。　Isn？t　that　sweet？？　somebody？s　mother　cooed；　mistaking　Coach？s　threat　for　a

congratulatory　embrace。

Nate　returned　to　his　seat；　breathless　and　sweaty。　？Anthony　Arthur　Avuldsen！？　the　old　principal

croaked；　impatiently　waving　the　blue　folder　containing　Anthony？s　diploma　over　his

white…peach…fuzz…covered　head。

Anthony　lumbered　over　Nate？s　khaki…pants…clad　knees　with　stoned　concentration。　Nate　clapped

his　friend　on　his　muscular　back。　？You　made　it；？　he　murmured　weakly　as　the　now…familiar　choky；

about…to…cry　feeling　welled　up　in　his　throat。

？Charles　Cameron　Dern！？　Father　Mark　croaked　hoarsely。

？Dude；？　Charlie　murmured　to　Nate　as　he　stumbled　by；　？what？s　with　the　little　star？？

Nate　was　too　perplexed　to　cry。　He　just　sat　there　in　stoned　numbness；　his　father？s　furious　stare

burning　holes　in　his　back　as　his　fellow　classmates　collected　their　diplomas。　The　blue　leather　folder

lay　closed　on　his　lap。　He　nudged　it　open　with　his　thumb　just　a　crack。　Just　as　he？d　suspected：　The

folder　was　empty。