It had been grand, being in school, decided Janet, and now she felt just a little scared. Life was ahead and life was so vast and uncomprehending and she knew it could be cold and cruel and merciless.
They bowed their heads at the benediction, there was a final swell of music from the orchestra and the lights in the gymnasium glared. It was over and Janet, in that moment, felt years older. She was a high school girl no longer....
Parents and friends of the graduates crowded around them and Janet saw her father beckoning.
“Get your diplomas,” he called. “We’ll meet you outside.”
Janet and Helen went up to the assembly where they turned in the paper scrolls which had been presented to them at the program. In return they received their real diplomas.
Outside they found their parents.
“We were tremendously proud of both of you,” said Janet’s mother. “You were by far the prettiest girls on the stage.”
“I’ll cast my vote in support of that statement,” put in Helen’s father, “and that’s from someone who should know a pretty girl when he sees one.”
They had planned a light supper at Thorne’s and all of them enjoyed the walk home for the air was close. Dark banks of clouds, illuminated once in a while by flashes of lightning, were mounting higher and higher in the west.
“Looks like we’ll get a real one tonight,” said Janet’s father, and the others agreed.