He told Shirley not to return until he had spoken with an attorney.
Then he asked me quietly:
“Can we start over?”
I looked at Mom’s picture.
“No.”
His face fell.
“But we can start with the truth.”
Before going to bed, I touched the tiny blue K inside my dress.
Shirley had come to prom hoping to make me feel like a cheap copy.
Instead, hundreds of people saw exactly whose daughter I was.
