Another student answered, “No. That’s her stepmother.”
Shirley walked directly toward me.
“Oh, Delilah! Look at us. We match!”
“You copied Mom’s dress.”
She leaned closer so only I could hear.
“You don’t own grief, sweetheart.”
“How could you do this?”
Her smile became colder.
“You thought tonight would make you special. I wanted you to understand that you’re ordinary.”
I turned to my father.
“Tell her to stop.”
Dad lowered his eyes.
“Not here, Delilah.”
“She copied Mom’s final gift to me.”
“Please lower your voice.”
That hurt almost as much as Shirley’s cruelty.
I turned toward the exit.
Then Gary grabbed my elbow.
“Don’t disappear.”
Mom’s voice returned instantly.
I stopped.
“Everyone is staring,” I whispered.
Gary looked around.
“Good.”
Then he added:
“Let them see what she did.”
I told him I couldn’t fight Shirley in front of hundreds of people.
