She didn’t hear me come in. She was staring at the zipper with her hands hovering near it, not touching.
Then she whispered, so softly I almost thought I imagined it, « What if he could still take me? »
I stood there for another second before I said, « Wren. »
She jumped and spun around.
Her father’s police uniform.
« I wasn’t— » she started.
« It’s okay. »
She looked back at the garment bag. « I had a crazy idea… I mean, I don’t want to go to prom, so it’s fine if you say no, but… but if I did go… I’d want him with me. And I thought, maybe, if I used his uniform… »
Wren had spent years pretending not to want what other girls wanted. Birthday parties, team trips, and father-daughter events at school.
She had turned disappointment into a personality so early that it scared me sometimes.
