Chapter 5 - The Dawson-Hargrove Plaque
The ceremony was not finished.
I returned to my seat with my diploma holder and felt my heartbeat settle into something steady. A few names later, the dean came back to the podium.
“Before we continue,” he said, “the Spears School of Business would like to recognize this year’s recipient of the Dawson-Hargrove Award.”
A murmur moved through the business section.
I stood.
Not quickly. Not dramatically. I simply rose, straightened my gown, and walked toward the stage for the second time.
This time, the dean said my full name clearly.
Craig Alan Weber.
The microphone carried it clean across the auditorium.
No stumble.
No hesitation.
No mistake.
He spoke about academic achievement, faculty nomination, my internships, my GPA, my service as a peer tutor in the accounting lab, and the unanimous committee vote. As he listed each thing, I became aware of a different sound gathering behind me. Applause, first from the business students, then from faculty, then from families who did not know me but understood enough to clap for excellence when it was named in front of them.
I accepted the plaque.
It was heavier than I expected.
When I turned toward the audience, I did not look at my family first. I looked at Sloan. She was standing with both hands pressed over her mouth, tears shining on her face. Emmett had both arms above his head. Dr. Tulliver was beaming like a proud father, which nearly undid me more than anything else.
Then I looked toward Section G.
The matching shirts were still there.
May you like
But the cheering had stopped.
My mother was staring at me with her phone lowered in her lap. My father’s mouth was slightly open. Colton looked confused, not angry, not proud, just confused in the way people look when a piece of furniture they never noticed suddenly speaks.
