“That’s right, sweetheart.”
Why my Rosie, when he could have walked into any classroom and chosen any girl?
Steven. The star quarterback. The boy whose name was on the morning announcements every Friday.
Three weeks ago he’d knocked on our front door holding a single white tulip. He’d looked Rosie in the eye and asked her to prom like she was the only girl in the county.
I’d said yes before she could, then apologized and let her say it herself.
My sister, Megan, cried when I told her. “Lauren, she deserves this. Let her have this.”
“I want to let her have this,” I’d answered. “I’m trying.”
But a small voice inside me kept asking the question I couldn’t shake. Why her? Why my Rosie, when he could have walked into any classroom and chosen any girl?
I told myself I was being unfair. That good boys still existed.
“You look like a princess.”
