She wanted an exact copy finished before prom.
Mrs. Howard had refused.
“What did she look like?” Gary asked.
“Tall. Blonde. Around forty-five. Expensive handbag. Very impatient.”
I didn’t need to say Shirley’s name.
We all knew.
Then Mrs. Howard lifted the inside lining of Mom’s dress.
In tiny blue thread was a single letter.
K.
Kathy.
Mom had signed her work.
I touched the little blue letter and cried.
Now I knew what Shirley had been planning.
But I had no idea how cruel she intended to be.
Prom night arrived.
I nearly stayed home.
Instead, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror wearing Mom’s dusty pink dress.
For a moment, I saw her face in mine.
Then I touched the blue K hidden inside the lining.
“I won’t disappear, Mom.”
Downstairs, Dad looked up and froze.
“You look just like your mother.”
