SO WHEN SENIOR PROM CAME AROUND, I ALREADY KNEW WHO I WANTED TO GO WITH
Apparently—
Ethan wasn’t as certain.
One afternoon at Willowcrest High School, he found me beside my locker.
“Sophie.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember first grade?”
I pretended to think.
“No.”
His face fell.
“Seriously?”
I laughed.
“Ethan, I’m kidding.”
“That wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
Then he held out his pinkie.
And suddenly—
I remembered everything.
Raisins.
Dinosaurs.
That cruel boy.
One silly promise.
I hooked my pinkie around his.
“Prom?”
He nodded.
“Prom.”
Then grinned.
“I already bought the bow tie.”
“When?”
“November.”
I stared.
“Ethan, prom is in spring.”
“I know.”
“Why did you buy it in November?”
“Stores run out.”
“They were not going to run out of bow ties.”
“You don’t know that.”
And that was Ethan Harper officially asking me to prom.
PROM NIGHT
I was upstairs fighting with an earring when the doorbell rang.
My aunt shouted:
“Sophie! Ethan’s here!”
“Two minutes!”
From downstairs, Ethan yelled:
“She said that fifteen minutes ago!”
Traitor.
I checked myself in the mirror.
Dress.
Curled hair.
Makeup my aunt had spent nearly an hour doing.
I was nervous.
Not about Ethan.
About prom.
About graduation.
About suddenly realizing childhood was almost over.
Then Mom opened the front door downstairs.
Silence followed.
Not ordinary silence.
The strange kind.
I stepped toward the landing.
Ethan stood in the entryway.
Navy suit.
White shirt.
Perfectly straight bow tie.
A small corsage in one hand.
He smiled.
Mom didn’t.
