I wore a dress to prom because I wanted one night where I did not have to hide. When the whole school laughed, and my boyfriend admitted what he had done behind my back, I nearly walked out before Dr. Morrison called us onto the stage.
The laughter wasn’t the sound that stayed with me.
What stayed with me was the silence after Dr. Morrison, our principal, called my name.
Laughter lets you pretend people are only being stupid. Silence makes you wonder if they mean it.
***
Two hours earlier, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, staring at the dark green dress I’d bought with three months of coffee shop tips and one questionable online coupon.
It was simple, soft at the waist, and beautiful enough that I couldn’t pretend I was wearing it as a joke.
Jada, my best friend, sat on my bed, eating fries and doing her makeup, as if I wasn’t five minutes away from changing into the backup suit on my closet door.
“Well?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “Damien, you look expensive.”
“That’s not an answer… not for this.”
