My daughter wore a prom dress she created from her late father’s police uniform. When another girl dumped punch all over it, she didn’t scream or cry—she just stood there, desperately trying to clean his badge. Then the girl’s mother took the microphone… and revealed something no one expected.
“I don’t need to go to prom,” Wren said.
We were standing in the school hallway after parent check-in. She had paused in front of a glittery flyer that read A Night Under the Stars.
“It’s all fake anyway,” she added with a shrug before walking on.
That night, long after she went to bed, I went into the garage looking for paper towels. That’s when I found her.
