Students were already gathered outside taking pictures.
Brooks offered me his arm. “You go in there and dance, you hear? That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and a few kids nearby started whispering before I’d even reached the doors.
Inside, the gym was loud and bright. Mrs. Lopez spotted me by the door.
She crossed the floor, eyes wide. “Chelsea, is that your dad’s jacket, hon?”
“I made this dress for tonight.”
She touched my sleeve gently. “You honor him, sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that.”
“You go in there and dance, you hear? That’s an order.”
By then, half a dozen people had turned to look. Someone near the punch table whispered, “She made that from her father’s uniform?”
I braced for the worst.
Instead, someone started clapping. Then more joined in. The applause spread across the gym.
My friend, Sarah, found me in the crowd and grabbed my hand.
“You hear that? They love it. This is your night.”
We danced, awkward at first, then free.
I braced for the worst.
***
Later, Brooks drove me home.
The porch light was still on.
Inside, Camila sat at the kitchen table with the attorney’s papers spread in front of her. Two suitcases stood by the stairs. Lia’s eyes were red, and Jen wouldn’t look at me.
Camila’s phone lay face up beside the papers, lighting up again and again with messages she wasn’t answering.
Lia’s eyes were red, and Jen wouldn’t look at me.
On the table beside the papers was another envelope with my name in Dad’s handwriting.
I saw it the moment I walked in earlier that night… but I couldn’t open it yet. I wasn’t ready then, but I was now.
“Chels, if you’re reading this, it means you made it.”
You’re braver than you think.
Love, Dad.”
I pressed the note to my chest and looked around the quiet house.
