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She breathed in. She breathed out. She took his arm.
In the car, she went gray. At the gym doors, she stopped dead, one hand on the frame, the other gripping mine so hard my ring bit bone.
“Mom. I can’t go in there. They’re all in there.”
“One song,” Eli said softly, on her other side. He didn’t touch her. He just held out his arm and waited. “If you want to leave after the first note, we leave. I swear it.”
She breathed in. She breathed out. She took his arm.
Inside, heads turned. The same classmates who once whispered went quiet. I stood in the parents’ section, undone.
Then Eli walked to the DJ booth. He stood there a long moment before he took the microphone, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above the music.
Her hands shook as she reached into the fabric.
“Sorry. I have to— I have to say one thing.” He swallowed. “Hazel. Look under the biggest rose.”
Her hands shook as she reached into the fabric. She pulled out a folded length of embroidered silk and made a sound I’d never heard her make, then lifted it high so the light caught the dark thread of the stitching.
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