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.
