My mother's lips pressed together. She knew Brittany's name. Brittany had tormented me for years, but always got away with it. I suspected it was because she'd led the cheerleading team to a win in state competitions.
I pushed a noodle around my plate. "Mom, I don't want to go to prom. I really don't."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Hannah, listen to me. You only get one senior prom. Just one. Give yourself one good memory before you graduate. Please."
"A good memory," I repeated quietly. "Mom, the only memory I'd make is being the girl in the corner."
"Then stand in the middle of the room for once," she said softly. "Just once."
I didn't answer her. I just stared at my plate.
The next morning, my bestie, Megan, was waiting for me at the bus stop, her backpack hanging off one shoulder. She was the only person in that whole school who cared about me.
"You look like you didn't sleep," she said.
"My mom's pushing the prom thing."
"Of course she is. Moms always do."
I almost laughed.
When we got to school, I went straight to my locker. I spun the lock, opened the door, and grabbed my history textbook. I shut it.
And there he was.
Caleb stood beside my locker, hands in his pockets, that easy smile of his softened into something almost shy. The football jacket, the dark eyes, the whole impossible picture of him standing next to me.
I froze. It's not every day the most popular boy in school stops by your locker.
"Hey, Hannah," he said. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes?" I waited, my heart doing something foolish inside my chest.
I stared at Caleb, certain I had misheard him. The hallway noise faded into a dull hum behind my ears.
"You want me to go to prom with you?"
He smiled, leaning one shoulder against the lockers like this was the most normal conversation in the world.
"Yeah. I do."
"Why?" The word came out sharper than I meant. 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 the punchline. There wasn't one, or at least none I could see.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay, yes."
At lunch, Megan nearly 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 not hungry.
A part of me knew she was right. A bigger part of me did not want her to be.
That afternoon, I went into the second-floor bathroom to splash water on my face. Brittany walked in behind me, her perfume arriving before she did.
"So. Prom with Caleb."
I didn't answer. I kept my eyes on the sink.
"Enjoy your one night, sweetie," she said, voice dripping honey. "Make it count."
She smiled at me in the mirror, then walked out.
