Prom was all I could think about when I was eighteen, a senior in high school. I was going to wear the ideal outfit, dance with my pals, and create memories. I saved for months before I eventually purchased the most exquisite baby blue gown. It was exquisite and timeless, giving me the feeling of being a princess—everything I could have ever imagined. My father shared my excitement. The fact that my mother would not be around to see me was the sole painful moment. It had just been Dad, me, and my stepmother, Carol, since she had died away years ago. Carol was complicated now, to put it mildly. Let us just say that we were not close when she married my dad when I was fourteen. Though we did not talk much, we also did not dispute much.
Particularly when it came to her daughter Julia, she always seemed to be thinking about other things. When Carol married my dad, she had already grown up and left the house. We have never really talked, but we have always been polite to one another. I therefore had no idea what would happen next. My pulse raced with excitement as I leaped out of bed the morning of prom. My makeup was ready, my hair appointment was scheduled, and my dress was hanging in the closet. Everything was going to be ideal. Grinning, I went to my closet to give my outfit one last glance before getting dressed. You know, I just wanted to admire it. However, my heart stopped when I opened the closet door. “No… no, no, no!” I let out a gasp.
My lovely baby blue gown was ruined. Thick streaks of black paint covered the fabric as it was sprayed all over. I merely stood there, motionless. What I was seeing was too much for my mind to handle. My eyes filled with tears. “What… how…?” I muttered. I caressed the torn fabric with trembling hands. It could not be fixed. In a moment, what I had been dreaming about for months was gone. My ideal outfit. My ideal evening. Tears were running down my face as I ran downstairs. “Carol!” I let out a cry. Carol, my dress was destroyed by someone! It’s—it’s covered with paint!”
As if everything was fine, Carol was enjoying her coffee while seated in the kitchen. When I told her what had happened, she did not even seem astonished. She gave me a bored look as she glanced up. “Oh no,” she responded in a cool, collected voice. That is very bad. Perhaps you ought to take greater care when handling your belongings and where you store them. I fixed my gaze on her, my chest tense. What does “more careful” mean? I insisted. How on earth is this possible? I found it in my closet! Unfazed, Carol took another drink of her coffee. “Perhaps it is a sign,” she answered with poise. “Perhaps prom was not meant for you after all. You know, it is not the end of the world. I blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “A sign?” I repeated, my voice trembling with anger and confusion.
