“So. Prom with Caleb.”
Hannah kept her eyes on the sink.
“Enjoy your one night, sweetie,” Brittany said. “Make it count.”
She smiled at Hannah in the mirror — warm, practiced, completely without warmth — and then walked out.
Hannah stood at the sink for another thirty seconds, cold water running over her hands.
What Her Mother Did With the Old Dress, and What Hannah Noticed About Caleb’s Hands
Her mother came home that night smelling like the diner. Hannah sat on the edge of her bed and told her everything — the invitation, Megan’s concern, Brittany’s comment in the bathroom. Her mother listened through all of it
“What if it’s a joke, Mama?”
Her mother took her hand. “Then we’ll know who he is. But you’ll still know who you are.”
She went to the back of her closet and pulled out a dress she had worn to a New Year’s party fifteen years earlier. It was dated in a few places, the cut not quite right for current styles. That week, after her shifts, she stayed up two nights at the kitchen table with a needle, thread, and the lamplight, altering it by hand. She refused to let Hannah help, said she wanted to do this one thing herself.
