Gwen had hidden it all from me on purpose.
I walked back into the gym.
The principal was standing at the microphone, going on about proud traditions and bright futures. I walked straight down the center aisle, past staring teenagers and confused parents, right up to the stage.
"Excuse me."
He looked down at me, startled. "Ma'am, this isn't—"
I climbed the two steps to the stage and gently took the microphone from his hand.
I walked back into the gym.
He was too shocked to do anything, or maybe something in my face told him not to try.
"Before any of you try to stop me, I need to say something important about my granddaughter."
The room went absolutely silent. I looked out at the sea of faces.
"My granddaughter, Gwen, should be here tonight. She spent months dreaming about this prom. About this dress." I held up the letter. "And tonight I found something she left behind."
Whispers moved through the crowd.
"And tonight I found something she left behind."
"My granddaughter wrote this before she died. Gwen was proud of this school, and proud of her friends, so I think she'd want all of you to hear what she had to say."
I unfolded the paper slowly, though my hands were still shaking.
"A few weeks ago," I read, "I fainted at school, and the nurse sent me to a doctor. They told me there might be something wrong with my heart rhythm."
