I wore a dress to prom because I wanted one night where I did not have to hide. When the whole school laughed, and my boyfriend admitted what he had done behind my back, I nearly walked out before Dr. Morrison called us onto the stage.
The laughter wasn’t the sound that stayed with me.
What stayed with me was the silence after Dr. Morrison, our principal, called my name.
Laughter lets you pretend people are only being stupid. Silence makes you wonder if they mean it.
***
Two hours earlier, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, staring at the dark green dress I’d bought with three months of coffee shop tips and one questionable online coupon.
It was simple, soft at the waist, and beautiful enough that I couldn’t pretend I was wearing it as a joke.
Jada, my best friend, sat on my bed, eating fries and doing her makeup, as if I wasn’t five minutes away from changing into the backup suit on my closet door.
“Well?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “Damien, you look expensive.”
“That’s not an answer… not for this.”
“Fine,” she said, lowering her plate. “You look more like yourself than you have in a long time.”
I looked back at the mirror.
By senior year, everyone at school knew I was gay. Some people supported me. Others spent four years reminding me I only belonged when I made myself easy to ignore.
“What if they laugh?” I asked.
“Then they have boring lives, D.”
“Jada…”
She stood behind me. “You’ve survived four years of whispers and fake jokes. Tonight, you get to walk in as yourself.”
I smoothed the skirt again.
“Stop it. You look lovely.”
The doorbell rang downstairs.
My stomach tightened so fast that I pressed one hand to the dress again.
I let go. “What if he thinks it’s too much?”
“Noah?” She gave me a look. “The boy who saves your coffee order in his phone like it’s a medical allergy?”
“That doesn’t mean he’s ready to walk into prom with me like this.”
“Then ask him.”
“I hate when you make sense.”
She stepped behind me and squeezed my shoulders. “Say it first.”
“That you chose this.”
The dress wasn’t a dare. It wasn’t a costume. I’d bought it because, for once, I wanted to walk into a room without dressing for other people’s comfort.
“I chose this.”
“There he is. Now, let me run home and get dressed. I’ll see you at prom.”
When I opened the front door, Noah stood on the porch in a black tux, holding a green corsage. He froze so completely that my stomach dropped.
What happened next changed everything… continues on the next page.
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