The senior committee chairman stood at the folding table in the middle of the floor with a microphone that squealed whenever he shifted his weight.

He asked for parent volunteers for the post-prom breakfast and asked whether anyone could pitch in extra money for the gym decorating budget.

Right then Rory came in through the side doors of the gym in his heavy brown work jacket with the brass zipper.

He didn’t join Tasha on the front bleacher.

He climbed the wooden steps and slid into the empty spot right behind me.

“We still need eighty dollars to finish buying the green tulle for the archway,” the chairman announced over the microphone.