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before, the overhead lights came on in a flash, this time accompanied by a track of ambient music intermixed with subtle bird calls and songs. The crowd gave a polite and appreciative round of applause while they all admired the ceiling’s flock. Just at the right moment, as voices began to grow and people started to mingle, the music swelled and the miniature spotlights went into action. The room again plunged into silence, except for a few surprised gasps and exclamations, before it erupted into a nearly thunderous ovation. Aunt Tessa was bombarded by congratulations, while Headmaster Stewart, stationed by her side, smiled broadly and genuinely.
    I spotted Amy in the crowd and went to join her, swiping another glass of champagne on my way. I carried it discreetly at my side andhoped that my aunt—or the headmaster—wouldn’t notice. Amy and Caleb were both grinning at me by the time I reached them.
    â€œThat was freaking
incredible,”
Caleb said. Amy nodded in agreement before grabbing my champagne and taking a big swallow. “Amy told me it would be great, but wow, yeah. I had no idea. And I wondered why the ceiling in here had been draped in black cloth since the beginning of the semester. So this is really what your aunt does all the time?”
    I could feel the proud smile pushing at the limits of my cheeks before I snuck my own sip of my drink. “Isn’t she amazing? It’s not always the same exhibit, of course, and sometimes she just does sculptures. It’s not always so exciting either. Most of the time, half the attendees have done this kind of thing a million times before too. See those two guys over there?” I pointed to the side of the room where two men stood separate from most of the crowd, chatting and gesturing. “Those are art critics from the city. I remember them from when we lived in Boston a few years ago. I think they were impressed, too, though. Usually they’re just straight-faced and a little bored looking.”
    Caleb eyed the men with curiosity while Amy made a little pout in their direction. “I don’t know how they
couldn’t
be impressed,” she said. “Unless they’re blind or dead, and it doesn’t look like they’re either. Well, maybe a little dead-ish, but not
dead
dead.”
    I giggled. “Well, we can read what they thought in the paper tomorrow. At least one of them will write up their review tonight.” The men broke from the side of the room and started toward where my aunt was standing next to a bronze plaque that had also been unveiled. “This is where she tells them all about the piece and her inspiration and all that. They could read it all on that plaque, but it’s more interesting to hear my aunt tell it. She’ll entertain them for a while now.”
    And she did. My aunt began a long dialogue with the critics, as well as a crowd of other interested listeners, and I made a loop around theroom, stopping to greet Amy’s parents and a few other friends, before drifting over to listen to some of her explanation. I wanted to hear it too.
    â€œâ€¦symbolizes the diversity of the student body, but also their similarities. They’re all from different places and backgrounds, cut from different cloths so to speak, and have been folded and molded in different ways by their families, their experiences, this school. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, but they also all have one thing in common: they’re about to take flight. Their future is before them, and we can only hope we’ve prepared them well. I worry daily about setting my own niece free to fly,”—she gestured to where she’d noticed me lingering at the edge of the group—“but have to believe I’ve done my best to make sure she’s ready. Sending her here, to Northbrook, is certainly one of the best assurances I could have.”
    She paused to smile first over at me, and then at