I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I’m not sure, Lia. I think they’ll both look great on you. I haven’t thought about prom yet.”
Lia grinned. “You really don’t have a plan? It’s like, the most important night ever.”
I just smiled, but inside I was thinking about Dad teaching me to patch a torn sleeve, his big hands guiding mine at the sewing machine.
Back then, it was just Dad and me, and after Mom died, those small moments became everything.
“You really don’t have a plan?”
The house changed after Dad married Camila. Suddenly, there were two stepsisters, and Camila’s fake affection whenever Dad was around.
But the minute he left for duty, her smile faded. My “chores” doubled, and Lia and Jen started dropping laundry outside my door.
Sometimes I’d stand in Dad’s closet, hold his old jacket to my chest, and whisper, “Miss you, Dad.”
“You’ll make me proud, Chels,” I imagined he’d say. “Whatever you do, wear it like you mean it.”
The house changed after Dad married Camila.
***
It was that night I decided I’d wear his uniform to prom. Not the way it was, but transformed, something new built from what he left behind. It felt like a secret between us.
For weeks, I worked in silence.
After scrubbing the kitchen floor and folding Jen’s endless stacks of shirts, I’d retreat to my room and stitch under my desk lamp.
Sometimes, in the quiet, I’d whisper goodnight to Dad.
I decided I’d wear his uniform to prom.
