My stepmother bought me the worst dress she could find to embarrass me at the prom – but before the night was over, she was crying and begging me to take it off.
Alexis appeared behind her, hands intertwined, with an expression that could only be described as wounded.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.
“It’s awful,” said Brianna.
“I spent hours looking for this dress. Hours. It’s the perfect dress for Emma.”
I held it against my body. “Alexis, it looks like something from a secondhand store.”
“Sorry?”
“Sorry. I just want to say that it doesn’t look new.”
Her eyes widened. “I drove through three counties to find this dress. If you can’t be grateful, that’s your problem.”
I went to look for my father.
He was in the garage, half under the hood of the car, as he always was when the voices started rising in the house.
“Dad, can you see the dress Alexis bought for me?”
He wiped his hands on a cloth and followed me back inside.
I showed him the mustard gold dress hanging on my closet door. He looked at it for a long time, then turned to me and said something that broke my heart.
“Yes, dear. She tried,” she said in a low voice.
“Dad, please.”
“It’s just one night. Just appreciate the effort, okay? I don’t want another fight in this house.”
His voice was tired. The kind of tiredness that begs you not to make things harder.
I swallowed everything I wanted to say. In three months I would be gone, living in a dorm in another state.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, Dad.”
Prom night arrived faster than I wanted. I stood in front of the mirror in my mustard gold dress and tried not to look directly at myself.
Alexis drove. Brianna sat in the front seat, fiddling with her phone, taking selfies with the rearview mirror.
