Chapter 27 #2
“And guess what?” I added, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll be there too—chaperone duty. So you’d better save me a dance.”
Kayla laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously excited for you,” I said, already spinning mental images of her in sequins and Jason fumbling with a corsage.
Her grin wavered, though, just for a second. I caught it.
“What?” I asked softly.
She fiddled with the strap of her backpack. “It’s just that one of my best friends can’t go. She’s in foster care, and… She doesn’t have the money for a ticket or a dress or any of it.” Kayla’s voice dipped. “She told me she’s just gonna skip it.”
Something in me pinched tight. I knew that feeling, watching from the sidelines because life handed you the short straw. Foster care didn’t come with prom tickets or pretty dresses. It came with hand-me-downs and excuses.
I thought of everything I’d seen these past few days.
The way the whole church promised to guide a baby’s life during baptism, the farmers opening their barns and gardens like they belonged to everyone, even the way people here had opened their hearts to me.
Willowbrook showed up for its own. Always.
And now Kayla’s friend was about to miss a night she’d remember forever, just because life hadn’t dealt her the right hand.
Not on my watch.
I squeezed Kayla’s hand across the table. “Then we’ll fix it. I’ll talk to Lynn and Ben. Between the church, the teachers, and the community, we’ll come up with something. No one’s missing prom if I have anything to say about it.”
Kayla’s eyes went wide, hopeful. “Really?”
“Really,” I promised. “Now finish telling me about Jason before I explode.”
By the time the sun leaned west, Kayla had skipped off for a babysitting job, cheeks still pink from talking about Jason.
I finished a few last notes in my binder while Ethan closed the register and stacked the last of the receipts.
The store felt different in the hush after closing—softer somehow, like the whole day had been exhaled.
I’d just clicked my pen shut when he spoke. “So… prom.”
I blinked at him. “You were eavesdropping again.”
He leaned against the counter, arms folded, but his tone was gentler than his words. “Hard not to. You’re literally the loudest person I’ve ever shared a bookstore with. You’re really gonna take that on?”
I hesitated, then let the idea spill the way it had been building in my head.
“Why not? We could gather gowns and suits from the community—closets, donations, even a few of my own. Make a space where kids can come and pick something that makes them feel… extraordinary. Not charity. Something fun. They could take it for free or ‘pay’ in Summerfest volunteer hours.” I hated always being on the receiving end in foster care.
But this way? They’d earn it. Be part of it.
His face shifted, caught between surprise and something softer. “That’s… actually brilliant.”
I laughed a little, brushing hair from my face. “You don’t have to sound so shocked.”
“I’m not shocked.” His voice was steady now. “I’m impressed. And if you need space—fittings, racks, whatever—the bookstore’s yours.”
The words landed deeper than I expected, warming me straight through. For once, I didn’t deflect. I just nodded, throat a little tight. “Thanks, Ethan.”
We closed the way we’d started—together, but without fanfare.
He flipped half the lamps; I gathered up the stray bookmarks scattered across the counter, glancing up to catch his eye as I tucked one into my pocket with a wink.
He counted the drawer while I tidied the display of local authors, arranging their books with care.
We moved in easy silence until there was nothing left to do but lock up and head out.
By the time I arrived home and let myself in, Lucky came bounding down the hall. He skidded to a stop at my feet, tail high, then immediately wound himself around my ankles with a demanding meow.
“Alright, alright.” I scooped him up, pressing a kiss between his ears. “You win. Dinner first.”
He purred like an idling motor while I filled his dish. Watching him dive in, so sure of his place, made something ache in me. That friend Kayla mentioned kept circling my thoughts. I couldn’t shake it—how familiar it felt.
I leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around myself.
I’d never had a prom dress, never sat at a kitchen table comparing corsages or slow songs.
While other kids were out dancing, I’d been working any job I could find, cramming for tests, counting tips from the diner just to prove I could claw my way toward college.
No sparkly nights. No fairy lights. Just grit and hope.
I tried turning music on for a distraction, a little Savage Garden on low, but the sound felt small against the weight in my chest. Even Lucky’s antics, pawing at the hem of my sundress, couldn’t pull me out of it.
Finally, I sighed and glanced at the warm light spilling from Carol’s kitchen window next door. If anyone knew how to settle the whirl in my head, it was her.
“Come on, Lucky,” I murmured, though he was already padding toward the door like he knew the drill. I headed across the grass, hoping Carol’s steadiness might be exactly what I needed.
Carol’s screen door creaked open before I even knocked. “Well, look who the wind blew in,” she said, a dish towel slung over her shoulder.
“Don’t get too excited,” I said, stepping inside. “It’s just me, looking for a free therapist.”
She laughed, that warm chuckle of hers. “You and half the town. Sit, I’ll get you some lemonade.”
I slid into one of the kitchen chairs, Lucky already twining himself around Carol’s ankles, while Carol obliged with a scratch behind the ears.
“Busy day?” Carol asked, setting down two glasses and easing into the seat across from me.
“Busy good,” I admitted. “We survived the bookstore rush, made a little headway on the Summerfest schedule. Ethan’s getting frighteningly good at finishing my sentences.”
Carol’s brow arched, but she just sipped her lemonade. “Mm-hm. And how’s our Miss Harper feeling about all that?”
I waved her off, though my cheeks warmed. “Like I’ve been adopted by the whole town. Again. Which is… still weird. But good weird.”
Carol smiled, her eyes soft. “That’s how Willowbrook works. We claim people before they know what’s happening.”
I toyed with the condensation on my glass, letting the words sink in. “Kayla and Jason stopped by, too. She was glowing. Told me he asked her to prom.”
Carol’s grin went crooked. “That Jason’s always been too shy for his own good. I’m glad he finally worked up the nerve.”
“Me too,” I said, then hesitated. “But she also said one of her best friends can’t go. Money’s tight, no dress, no ticket.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “And I… I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Carol tilted her head, watching me. Not pushing, just waiting.
I traced the rim of my glass. “I know what that feels like. Standing on the outside of every normal teenage thing because you just… can’t.”
The words slipped out before I could catch them. I froze, pulse thudding. For half a second, I thought about telling Carol. About the girl I’d been, the things I’d missed, the baggage I carry. How much lighter it might feel to finally say it out loud to someone who would just listen.
But the moment passed. I shoved it back down where it belonged, tucked tight behind the smile I knew how to wear.
“I don’t want to explain how I know what it feels like,” I said carefully, steadying my voice.
“But I do. And I don’t want any kid here to feel that way if we can help it.
So maybe we can fix it. A pop-up boutique with donated dresses and suits.
Kids could ‘buy’ them with Summerfest volunteer hours if they didn’t want to just take them. ”
The words tumbled faster the more I spoke, excitement sparking despite the lump in my chest. “We could string lights, set up mirrors, make it feel like a real shopping experience. Not hand-me-downs. Magic.”
Carol reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Sounds like you’ve already got it half-built in your head.”
I laughed softly, blinking too fast. “Maybe I do.”
“Then don’t stop,” she said gently. “Lily, you’ve got a gift for seeing what people need, even when they don’t know how to ask for it. That’s not charity. That’s community. That’s love.”
Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, steady and sure. “And if anyone can make it sparkle, it’s you. Don’t let the doubts talk you out of it.”
Her certainty was a warm weight in the air, settling somewhere deep in my chest. For a second, it almost felt possible. Not just the idea, but me being the one to make it real.
Carol gave my hand another squeeze before letting go.
She studied me for a moment, eyes kind but sharper than I expected.
“And Lily… whatever you don’t want to say right now, that’s okay.
I’m not going to pry. Whenever you’re ready, Lily—whether it’s your past or something else—you don’t have to carry it alone. I’ll always be here.”
The lump in my throat returned, heavier this time.
I swallowed hard and managed a small nod, grateful in a way words couldn’t touch.
But as I turned away, a flicker of resolve ignited within me—I knew I had to confront my past eventually, and maybe, just maybe, I would find the courage to do it here, in Willowbrook.