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.
Then I noticed Miss Carter walking towards us. Her eyes were fixed on me with the strangest expression.
“Emma,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away. “May I look at your dress?”
I blinked. “My dress?”
She circled around me without waiting for an answer. Her fingers hovered over the bodice, near the waist seam, then slid down to the hem.
“Ms. Carter, what are you doing?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
He bent down, lifted the corner of the fabric near my ankle, and remained completely still.
When she stood up, her eyes were full of tears.
“I’m so glad you wore this,” she said. “I know it’s out of fashion, but to see this dress again after all these years… what a beautiful way to honor her.”
“Honor whom? My stepmother bought this dress for me. Probably from some second-hand shop.”
Miss Carter shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Emma.” Her voice faltered. “I’d recognize this dress anywhere. Your mother wore it to her prom. She chose a vintage dress and altered it herself. I helped her sew the hem back on after a few stitches came undone.”
The noise from the gymnasium disappeared. I looked at Ms. Carter, my ears ringing.
“That’s impossible. Alexis told my father she bought it for me… he gave her the money.” Then another thought hit me. “Wait, you knew my mother?”
“We were close in high school.” Miss Carter frowned. “Didn’t you know? She kept a diary back then. As for the dress… I thought you’d found it among your mother’s things and chosen to wear it.”
Suddenly, everything made sense.
All of my mother’s things that Alexis had kept… the sounds I heard in the attic the night after my father gave the money for the dresses…
I turned and crossed the gym, the mustard-gold fabric brushing against my ankles as if it knew the way.
“Alexis.”
She looked up, still smiling slightly. The other parents turned to her.
“Where is the money my father gave me for my dress?”
Her smile faded. “You’re wearing it, Emma.”
“I’m not. Because this dress came from our attic. It’s my late mother’s graduation dress. You told my father you would buy me a dress, but you lied.”
A whisper ran through the chaperones.
“She’s been calling me ungrateful for months,” I said, my voice echoing. “Saying I eat too much. Choosing my clothes. And tonight she dressed me up as a joke.”
A mother recoiled from Alexis as if she had touched something hot.
