I thought about giving up.
***
The night of prom, the whole house was in chaos. Camila was already in the kitchen, sipping her second cup of coffee, tapping her nails against her mug like a metronome. She didn’t even look up when I walked by.
“Chelsea, did you iron Lia’s dress?” she barked, eyes still on her phone.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered quietly, folding dish towels.
I could smell burnt toast and Lia’s perfume battling in the air.
Lia breezed in, waving her phone and holding her sparkling clutch. “Jen, where’s my lip gloss? The gold one. You promised not to touch it!” Her voice echoed down the hallway.
She didn’t even look up when I walked by.
Jen came stomping out in her heels, every step a threat to the tiles. “I didn’t take your stupid lip gloss. Why do you always blame me?”
“Because you always do! Mom, tell her —”
Camila cut in, “Both of you, enough. Chelsea, did you clean up the living room? There are crumbs everywhere.”
“I did it after breakfast,” I said, wishing I could disappear.
***
Upstairs, I slipped into my room and shut the door.
“Both of you, enough.”
My hands shook as I buttoned the bodice, the sash made from Dad’s service tie feeling heavier than ever. I pinned his silver pin, the one from basic training, at my waist and stared at my reflection.
For a second, I hesitated. Was I about to make a fool of myself?
Downstairs, laughter rolled through the house. I could hear Jen saying, “She’s probably wearing something she found at Goodwill.” Her voice carried straight up the staircase.
