“I think so, Mom.”
Inside, the gym burst with color—streamers, pink and silver balloons, a photo booth filled with silly props. Pop music pulsed against the walls. Fathers and daughters twirled under a disco ball, little shoes flashing.
Katie slowed as we stepped inside.
“Do you see any of your friends?” I asked, scanning the room.
“They’re all busy with their dads.”
We moved along the edge of the dance floor, staying close to the wall. Every few steps, people glanced at us—at my simple black dress and Katie’s too-brave smile.
A girl from Katie’s class, Molly, waved from across the room while her dad dipped her in a clumsy waltz. “Hi, Katie!” she called. Her dad gave us a quick, polite nod.
Katie smiled but didn’t move.
We found a spot by the mats. I sat down, and Katie curled beside me, knees pulled in, her badge catching the colored lights.
She watched the dance floor, eyes bright with hope. But when a slow song began, the weight of missing Keith seemed to shrink her even more.
