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“That’s why everyone is here today.” Her voice turns solemn. “Not because I asked them to be, but because they wanted to give back to someone who has given them so much. Kenzie, you are such an inspiration. You are admired and respected by me and everyone here. You’ve changed lives. You’ve...you’ve changed my life.”

There are a few sighs and mutters of ‘Awww!’ as Moira’s voice catches and she has to stop and collect herself. My legs go weak, and I’m grateful I’m already sitting.

“So thank you, Miss Kenzie, for everything you’ve done, and everything you’ve yet to do. We love you.”

I press my hands over my mouth again and feel hot tears slide over my fingers as Georgie fills her pipes. Guided by Moira, the students all start moving in unison to perform the Tribute to JL McKenzie.

It’s my favourite dance. It’s the one I did to Nickelback while clutching a photo to my chest as Moira and I goofed around in her house.

I sit there crying and shaking, my eyes roaming over the kids I’ve taught these very steps to. I’ve known many of them and their parents for years.

They won’t realize it until Catherine makes the official announcement, but today, this dance is also a goodbye.

The drone of the bagpipes reverberates deep in my chest, every aching note a bittersweet one.

* * *

Somehow, I plaster enough of a smile on my face to get through the chatting and hugs that follow the performance. I shake hands and give high-fives. I chuckle and make small talk about end of year showcases and summer training camps.

I squeeze my hands into tight fists behind my back and take deep breaths each time the ache in my chest gets to be too much.

Lydia and Margaret are the last ones to leave. I lean into Margaret’s hug just a little too long, letting her warmth give me strength. She gives me a searching look when I pull back but doesn’t ask any questions.

Once Margaret has left, Lydia finishes up her conversation with Moira and pulls me into a hug too.

“You may just have the bestie seal of approval,” she says, stepping back to hold my shoulders at arm’s length, “but I’ll confirm at a later date.”

Moira hauls her off me. “Get out of here, you weirdo.”

When we’re finally alone again, I step back over to the picnic table and brace my hand on the top, turning away from Moira. My lungs ache from holding so much inside me, and I know I’m about to fall apart. Looking at her will only make it happen faster.

“Something’s wrong,” she says, the words a statement rather than a question. I hear her take a few steps closer and come to a stop just behind me. “I’m really sorry if this wasn’t the right move. I—”

“It was perfect,” I interject, hardly able to speak above a whisper. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sunlight. The glare feels harsh rather than comforting now. “I mean it. I...I can’t tell you how much it meant.”

She’s close enough now that I can hear her breathing, but I still don’t turn around. “So what’s wrong?”

“It’s just...I...”

My throat is threatening to close up and choke me. I curl my fingers and dig my nails into the weathered wood of the table’s boards.

“I don’t think I can tell you here,” I get out. “I want to tell you. I do. I will. Just...can we go somewhere?”

Gently, like I’m a pair of delicate wings that might snap in her hands, she grips my upper arm and spins me around to face her. “Of course. Come on.”

She slides her hand down to intertwine with mine again, and that’s how we walk out of the park. She doesn’t let go until we reach the now familiar green station wagon where it’s parked two blocks away.

“My mum took the other car today, thank god,” she says as she digs around in her jacket pocket for the keys.

We drive for about fifteen minutes, the silence between us heavy but somehow comforting as I stare out the windows to watch the tall buildings shrink and the streets widen until I recognize where we’re heading.

“This okay?” Moira asks when we turn onto the street that leads to the Murray School of Highland Dance. “Seems kind of like...our thing.”

I watch the corner of her mouth lift and reach over to rest my hand on her thigh. “I like that we have a thing.”

She blushes, and the rosy tinge of her cheeks reminds me that no matter what else happens, today is still a very good day.

After she’s parked and we’ve gotten out of the car, I reach up to rub my hands along my arms. The sun is starting to set now, and the temperature is dropping quickly.