Prom night arrived.
I nearly stayed home.
Instead, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror wearing Mom’s dusty pink dress.
For a moment, I saw her face in mine.
Then I touched the blue K hidden inside the lining.
“I won’t disappear, Mom.”
Downstairs, Dad looked up and froze.
“You look just like your mother.”
For one second, I thought he finally understood.
Then Shirley called from the kitchen.
“Hopefully she doesn’t spend the entire night crying like her.”
Dad flinched.
I stared at him.
“Say something.”
He barely managed, “Shirley, please.”
That was all.
When Gary arrived, he looked at me and smiled.
“You’re beautiful.”
At prom, I finally began relaxing.
Friends complimented the dress.
When I told them my mother had made it, their expressions softened.
Gary handed me a cup of punch.
“She would be proud of you.”
Then the doors opened for the parent chaperones.
I looked for Dad.
Instead, I saw Shirley.
My cup slipped from my hand.
She was wearing my mother’s dress.
Not the original—but an almost perfect copy.
Same dusty pink fabric.
Same fitted bodice.
Same handmade-looking flowers.
The only thing missing was Mom’s tiny blue K.
Someone whispered, “Is that Delilah’s mother?”
Another student answered, “No. That’s her stepmother.”
Shirley walked directly toward me.
“Oh, Delilah! Look at us. We match!”
“You copied Mom’s dress.”
She leaned closer so only I could hear.
“You don’t own grief, sweetheart.”
“How could you do this?”
Her smile became colder.
“You thought tonight would make you special. I wanted you to understand that you’re ordinary.”
I turned to my father.
“Tell her to stop.”
Dad lowered his eyes.
“Not here, Delilah.”
“She copied Mom’s final gift to me.”
“Please lower your voice.”
That hurt almost as much as Shirley’s cruelty.
I turned toward the exit.
Then Gary grabbed my elbow.
“Don’t disappear.”
Mom’s voice returned instantly.
I stopped.
“Everyone is staring,” I whispered.
Gary looked around.
“Good.”
Then he added:
“Let them see what she did.”
I told him I couldn’t fight Shirley in front of hundreds of people.
“You don’t have to fight her alone.”
Gary walked toward our senior adviser, Mrs. Chen.
What I didn’t know was that Gary had already spoken to her after our visit to the alteration shop.
Mrs. Chen had also known my mother.
Mom had volunteered for years helping with school theater productions.
And Mrs. Howard happened to be at prom helping prepare a memorial display.
The truth was already inside the building.
Gary only needed Shirley to step into it.
