“My mom’s pushing the prom thing.”
“Of course she is. Moms always do.”
I almost laughed.
When we reached school, I went straight to my locker. I turned the lock, opened the door, and pulled out my history textbook. Then I shut it.
And there he was.
Caleb was standing beside my locker, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual easy smile softened into something almost nervous. The football jacket, the dark eyes, the impossible image of him standing right next to me.
I froze. The most popular boy in school did not usually stop by my locker.
“Hey, Hannah,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?” I waited, my heart doing something foolish inside my chest.
“Would you go to prom with me?”
I stared at Caleb, convinced I must have heard him wrong. The noise in the hallway faded into a dull sound behind my ears.
“You want me to go to prom with you?”
He smiled and leaned one shoulder against the lockers as if this were completely normal.
“Yeah. I do.”
“Why?” The word came out harsher than I meant it to. My fingers tightened around my notebook.
“Because you’ve always seemed kind, Hannah. And I’ve noticed how people treat you. It isn’t right.”
I searched his face for a joke. I could not find one, at least not one I could see.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, yes.”
At lunch, Megan almost dropped her sandwich when I told her.
“Hannah. People like Caleb don’t just decide things like that,” she said, lowering her voice. “Please. Be careful. Something about this feels… wrong.”
I pushed my tray away, suddenly unable to eat.
Part of me knew she might be right. A larger part of me desperately wanted her to be wrong.
That afternoon, I went into the second-floor bathroom to splash water on my face. Brittany came in behind me, her perfume arriving before she did.
“So. Prom with Caleb.”
I did not answer. I kept my eyes fixed on the sink.
“Enjoy your one night, sweetie,” she said, voice dripping honey. “Make it count.”
She smiled at me through the mirror, then walked out.
