Martha looked up, her expression softening slightly. “The system shows zero checked-in guests for your list, Clara. The main gates open in ten minutes.”
“Is there a secondary list?” I asked. “Perhaps they registered under my father’s name.”
Martha sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I checked the last name Evans, dear. Only your student profile is listed. There are no guest names attached to your reservation. Usually, families submit their security clearances by the first of May.”
“I sent the reminders,” I said.
“I am sure you did,” Martha said. “But the portal is closed now. Even if they show up, they will have to sit in the general admission section at the very top of the bleachers.”
I looked at the tickets in my hand. Row C, right in the front, where the families of the graduates were supposed to sit. Four empty chairs.
The gate hinges groaned as the security guards pushed the heavy iron barriers open, letting the first line of families flood toward the entrance.
