They moved down the dim corridor in single file past a row of stainless steel warming trays.

Claire held the faded manila folder tight against her ribs, listening to the muffled sounds of the enormous building.

Voices echoed from the main concourse just beyond a set of massive wooden double doors.

Claire could hear the low hum of hundreds of parents finding their seats, broken by the sharp squeal of microphone feedback from the main stage.

Vanessa and Daniel were out there, sitting in the front row.

Vanessa probably assumed Claire was already driving out of Oakridge in total defeat.