“Would you go to prom with me?”
I stared at Caleb, convinced I must have heard him wrong. The noise in the hallway faded into a dull sound behind my ears.
“You want me to go to prom with you?”
He smiled and leaned one shoulder against the lockers as if this were completely normal.
“Yeah. I do.”
“Why?” The word came out harsher than I meant it to. My fingers tightened around my notebook.
“Because you’ve always seemed kind, Hannah. And I’ve noticed how people treat you. It isn’t right.”
I searched his face for a joke. I could not find one, at least not one I could see.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, yes.”
At lunch, Megan almost dropped her sandwich when I told her.
“Hannah. People like Caleb don’t just decide things like that,” she said, lowering her voice. “Please. Be careful. Something about this feels… wrong.”
I pushed my tray away, suddenly unable to eat.
Part of me knew she might be right. A larger part of me desperately wanted her to be wrong.
That afternoon, I went into the second-floor bathroom to splash water on my face. Brittany came in behind me, her perfume arriving before she did.
“So. Prom with Caleb.”
I did not answer. I kept my eyes fixed on the sink.
“Enjoy your one night, sweetie,” she said, voice dripping honey. “Make it count.”
She smiled at me through the mirror, then walked out.
My mother came home that night smelling like the diner where she worked her second shift. I told her everything.
She sat on the edge of my bed, took my hand, and looked at me for a long moment.
“You deserve a beautiful night, baby.”
“What if it’s a joke, Mama?”
“Then we’ll know who he is. But you’ll still know who you are.”
After that, she pulled an old dress from the back of her closet and stayed up for two nights altering it by hand beneath the kitchen lamp.
When Caleb came to pick me up on prom night, he held out a corsage. His hands were trembling slightly. I noticed.
“You look beautiful, Hannah.”
“Thank you.”
In the car, he barely spoke. He kept glancing down at his phone, then placing it face down on his leg. I told myself he was nervous. I told myself a lot of things.
The gym was bright, loud, and filled with faces staring at us.
Caleb took my hand and led me onto the dance floor. He danced with me like he meant every second of it, eyes on mine, ignoring the whispers rising around us like a wave.
Then a boy near the speakers cupped his hands around his mouth. “Did Caleb decide to host a charity event tonight?”
Laughter moved through the room.
A girl I did not even know shouted next. “Oh my God, did someone actually pay Caleb to do this?”
The wave crashed over me. The lights suddenly felt too hot, the music sounded far away, and every pair of eyes felt like a needle pressing into my skin.
“Caleb, I want to go. Please.”
“Hannah, listen to me.”
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“I want to leave. Now.”
He nodded quickly, his jaw tight, and placed a hand on my back to guide me toward the doors. I kept my head down. The laughter followed us across the floor.
We were almost at the exit when the gym doors swung open from the other side.
Three police officers stepped inside, their boots heavy against the polished floor, and walked straight toward us.
The officers stopped directly in front of us.
The tallest one, his badge catching the lights from the gym, looked at Caleb with a careful expression.
“Sir, you need to come with us immediately.”
For 20 years, my mother fed the homeless boy behind our house. After her funeral, he held my hands and whispered, “Before she d.i.e.d, she made me promise never to reveal her secret.”
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