I do not know how long I sat there. Long enough that my legs went numb. Long enough that the light in the hallway changed.
A few days later, there was a knock.
I opened the door in yesterday’s clothes. Eli stood on the porch in a faded hoodie, holding a small notebook against his chest. He looked nervous. He also looked decided, which was new on him.
“Mrs. Mave. Can I talk to you out here?”
I stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me.
“Is Hazel okay? Did she text you?”
“No, ma’am.” He took a breath. “I need her measurements.”
“Eli, what—”
“Prom is in two weeks. I can do this. I know how that sounds. But I need you to trust me. And I need you not to tell her anything. Not one word.”
I stared at this boy I had watched grow up two houses down. Seventeen years old. Bitten fingernails. Holding a notebook like it was a contract.
