That night ended in a blur. People hugged me. Teachers complimented Ethan. Melissa disappeared before the final dance.
When we got home she was waiting in the kitchen.
“You think you won?” she snapped. “You made me look like a monster.”
“You did that yourself,” I said.
She pointed at Ethan. “And you. Little freak with your sewing project.”
Ethan flinched.
But for the first time in a year, he didn’t stay quiet.
“Don’t call me that,” he said.
She laughed. “Or what?”
His voice shook, but he kept talking.
“You mock everything. You mocked Mom. You mocked Dad. You mocked me for sewing. You mocked her for wanting one normal night.”
A loud knock interrupted him.
At the door stood the attorney and Tessa’s mom.
The attorney said calmly, “After tonight’s statements and previous concerns, these children will not remain here alone while the court reviews the guardianship and trust funds.”
Three weeks later Ethan and I moved in with our aunt.
Two months after that, control of the money was taken away from Melissa. She fought it in court.
She lost.
The dress now hangs in my closet.
An art teacher sent pictures of it to a local design program, and Ethan was invited to attend a summer course. He pretended not to care for an entire day before I caught him smiling at the acceptance email.
Sometimes I still touch the seams of that dress.
Melissa wanted everyone to laugh when they saw it.
Instead, it was the night people finally saw us.
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