We were standing in the school hallway after parent-night check-in. Wren had wandered half a step ahead of me, then she stopped near the flyer for prom.
« A Night Under the Stars, » it said in gold lettering. The borders were decorated with glitter.
« It’s all fake, anyway, » she added.
She gave a small shrug and kept walking.
But that night, long after I heard her bedroom door click shut, I went out to the garage looking for the extra paper towels and found her standing completely still in front of a storage closet.
« I don’t need to go to prom. »
A garment bag hung from the open door.
Her father’s police uniform.
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