I touched the fabric and whispered, “You made this.”
The next morning Melissa saw it hanging on my door.
She stopped, stared at it, then walked closer.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“What?” I said.
“That thing.”
“It’s my prom dress.”
She burst out laughing.
“That patchwork disaster?”
Ethan came out of his room immediately.
Melissa looked between us. “You’re actually serious?”
“I’m wearing it,” I said.
She placed a hand on her chest dramatically. “If you show up at prom wearing that, the entire school will laugh at you.”
Ethan stiffened beside me.
“It’s fine,” I said quietly.
“No, it’s not,” she snapped, waving toward the dress. “It looks pathetic.”
“I made it,” Ethan said suddenly.
Melissa turned to him slowly.
“You made it?”
He lifted his chin. “Yeah.”
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