The gym got quiet.
Not all at once. In waves. From the floor up. Until the only sound left was the hum of the old scoreboard and somebody’s baby fussing up in the corner.
Travis lifted the microphone to his mouth.
His hand was shaking. I could see it from the front row.
“I’m Travis,” he said. “I’m Kaylee’s stepdad. I’ve been her stepdad for nine years.”
He stopped.
He looked down at the floor.
My father didn’t move. Kaylee didn’t move.
“Tuesday night at supper,” Travis said, “she asked me to walk her out tonight. And I told her no. I told her this walk was for real dads.”
There was a sound from the bleachers. Not quite a gasp. More like four hundred people letting out their breath at the same time.
“I said it because I thought I didn’t have the right,” Travis said. “I thought I’d be taking something that belonged to somebody else. I’ve thought that for nine years.”
