“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.
When the dress was finished, it fit Hannah the way the original never could have fit anyone.
On prom night, Caleb knocked at exactly the right time. He was wearing a dark suit that looked like he had made an actual effort rather than grabbing whatever was already pressed. He held out a corsage.
Hannah noticed that his hands were shaking slightly.
She noticed that, and she filed it.
“You look beautiful, Hannah.”
“Thank you.”
In the car, he barely talked. He asked a few questions about her plans for after graduation, said something about his older sister going to college in a state he didn’t name, and then went quiet. His phone sat face-down on his leg. Every few minutes she could see the screen light up faintly through the case. He didn’t check it.
