My sister, Megan, cried when I told her. “Lauren, she deserves this. Let her have this.”
“I want to let her have this,” I’d answered. “I’m trying.”
But a small voice inside me kept asking the question I couldn’t shake. Why her? Why my Rosie, when he could have walked into any classroom and chosen any girl?
I told myself I was being unfair. That good boys still existed.
“You look like a princess.”
“Mom?” Rosie stopped turning and looked at me. “You’re making that face.”
“What face, honey?”
“The worried one.”
I set down the tea and stood up. “Come here. Let’s get you into that dress.”
She followed me down the hall, humming. I unzipped the pale blue gown we’d found on clearance and slid it carefully over her shoulders.
“You look like a princess,” I whispered.
“I do?”
“Yes.”
Then Steven walked toward her. The whole room seemed to slow down.
She giggled and reached back for the zipper. My fingers shook a little as I pulled it up.
“Mom, you’re crying.”
“Tears of joy, sweetie.”
In the mirror, Rosie beamed at her reflection like the world had finally given her a turn. I pressed my lips to the back of her hair and said a silent prayer that this boy was exactly what he seemed.
And somewhere behind the prayer, a quieter thought I refused to name kept asking why.
***
The gymnasium had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. I stood near the back wall, clutching my purse. Rosie waited near the dance floor in her beautiful dress, her silver shoes catching the light every time she moved.
Then Steven walked toward her. The whole room seemed to slow down.
For a fleeting moment, I felt hopeful.
