“What are you doing?” I asked.
He jumped and covered the notebook like it was a test.
I pulled the notebook toward me.
He’d written:
“Rent Groceries Gas Prom tickets?
Brynn dress??”
“Dad,” I said, and my voice came out choked.
He instantly looked guilty.
“Hey, hey. You don’t have to go. I just thought… if you wanted to.
But if it’s about the money, I can figure something out. I’ll grab an extra shift. Don’t worry about—”
“I’m going,” I said.
He froze.
“You… wanna go to prom?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I’m going.”
He stared at me, then smiled slowly.
“Okay then,” he said. “We’ll make it happen.”
We went to a thrift store two towns over.
I found a dark blue dress that actually fit.
No sparkles, no huge skirt. Just simple and pretty.
I stepped out of the dressing room and did an awkward spin.
“Well?” I asked.
He swallowed.
“You look like your mom,” he said softly.
My throat closed up.
“We’ll take it,” he told the cashier, before I could even ask.
Prom night came fast.
He knocked on my door.
“You decent?” he called.
“Yeah,” I said.
He opened the door and stopped.
“Wow,” he said.
“Look at you.”
I laughed. “You kind of have to say that.”
“I’d say it even if you were in a trash bag,” he said. “But the dress helps.”
He was in a plain black suit that pulled a little at the shoulders.
“You have to work?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“They need extra hands. I’ll be like a ghost. You won’t even notice me.”
That made my stomach hurt.
We drove in his old Corolla.
No limo, no playlist.
He drummed his fingers on the wheel.
“You nervous?” he asked.
“Just remember,” he said, “nobody there is better than you.
Some of them just have shinier cars.”
We pulled up to the curb.
Girls in sequins and guys in suits spilled out of SUVs.
I stepped out and instantly heard it.
“Isn’t that the janitor’s kid?”
“Wait, she came?”
I kept my head up.
Then I saw him.
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