Cassie fiddles with the beads of her handmade bracelet as we wait for her sister’s name to be announced. I scoop the hair fallen into her face and tuck it behind her round little ear, careful not to knot it around the golden stars decorating her lobes. She offers me a sheepish smile, brown eyes reflecting the sun’s mid-afternoon rays.

The rattling of plastic jewelry hushes as I take her hand, soothing her boredom with the caress of my thumb, and together we turn back to the graduates. The next to board the outdoor stage looks to his crowd, spins on his heel, and backflips. And just like the few others to have done the same––keeping her moderately entertained these past three hours––Cassie’s delicate frame ripples in response, laughing as she rips from my grasp to clap furiously. As he walks off, her excitement vanishes, and she rests her head on my shoulder, tired, bored, but determined to wait for her sister.

“How much longer, Dad?” Her words are muffled by the applause and the stiff fabric of my shirt.

“Any time now.”

Cassie groans lightly and stirs, and I smirk––since she can’t see it––because I’ve memorized a handful of names from the list that countdown to our star, and they’ve already been said out loud.

“Nora Wilkes.”

It takes a moment for her to process, and then Cassie looks at me, lips parted by a loud gasp, and she’s on her feet before I am, springing in place. And when a familiarly short, cloaked figure climbs the steps, hiking her ceremonial gown above her high heels, Cassie’s voice rises several octaves above the obligatory clap of audience hands.

“Noooraaa!”

The woman on stage covers her mouth, though the gesture fails to hide her beam, and waves back, beginning the descent to her diploma.

There’s a pop. And before Nora completely turns away from the crowd, her hand drops, showcasing a different expression. With her gaze still trained on her family, I look down at Cassie––statue-esque, arms hovering midair, pastel dress now darkly speckled.

Pop! A scream shudders nearby as it rains in quick bursts, though clouds lack overhead.

Pop! Cassie finally twists to face me, her skin lacerated, flesh peeling in open flaps along her arms, her throat. Shards of glass lodged in the clinch of blood; crystal embedded in her cheeks; scarlet staining the maw that was open to the attack as she howled for her sister.

The venue is just as loud as it was, but now with cries and scrambling from seats. The popping becomes booming, and I shield Cassie from chairs and wood and more lights exploding.

“Dad!”

I sacrifice an arm from Cassie to reach for Nora’s sprinting body. She hits me promptly, blown forward from another blast erupting onstage. In an instant her black gown disintegrates; instead of embracing my daughter, a wash of hot crimson coats my face––Nora’s melted flesh that now drips down my chest.