Okay, buckle up, because you need to hear this wild story about my prom night!
I’m Emily, 17, a senior in high school. I live with my dad, my stepmom Carla, and her son Mason, who’s 11. Mason and I get along like real siblings—we laugh, play video games, tease each other. But Carla? Oh boy. That woman cannot stand me.
It all started years ago. My mom passed away from a sickness when I was just 10. My dad was devastated, but within a year, he was already dating Carla. And then—bam—they got married.
I still remember what my aunt whispered at the wedding, her nose wrinkled in disapproval:
“Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he? And who is Carla anyway? She’s nothing compared to your mom!”
At first, Carla pretended to be sweet, trying to win me over. But soon, the mask slipped. The little digs, the passive-aggressive comments—they started piling up. I’ll never forget one moment:
She looked me up and down one evening and said coldly,
“You look too much like your mother, Emily. It actually pains me to look at you. No wonder your father spends more time with Mason. He feels closer to him.”
I wanted to scream, but instead, I sighed and turned away, swallowing my anger.
Dad? Oblivious. Totally blind. It was like Carla had put him under some spell.
Fast forward to this year—prom season. Like every other girl, I was dreaming of that perfect night. I saved months of babysitting money and bought a gorgeous violet dress. Violet wasn’t just any color—it was my mom’s favorite. Wearing it felt like having a piece of her with me.
I even booked a hair appointment at this fancy salon. My friends and I were all going there. Everything was ready.
Or so I thought.
The morning of prom, I bounced into the salon, my heart racing. But the receptionist gave me this confused look.
“Emily? Are you sure?” she asked, scrolling through her screen. “It says here you canceled.”
“What?!” I gasped. “I didn’t cancel! Why would I cancel on prom day?”
She frowned. “Hang on, I’ll get Zelda.”
I waited, trying to stay calm, but my stomach was already twisting. Zelda, my hairdresser, came out looking guilty.
“I got a call this morning,” she explained. “The woman said she was your mom, and she canceled the appointment. I thought it was you.”
My chest tightened. My mom? I don’t even have her anymore. And then I turned my head and saw her.
Carla.
Sitting in the salon chair, smirking at me as a stylist curled her hair.
That witch had canceled my appointment just to crush me—and then she took it for herself!
“Can you squeeze me in at all?” I begged Zelda.
She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. After your appointment was canceled, someone else grabbed the spot. We’re fully booked.”
My throat burned, but I forced myself not to cry right there in front of Carla. She was watching me, her eyes glittering with victory.
I ran out of the salon, humiliated, and barely held it together until I got home. Upstairs in my room, I broke. I tried fixing my own hair in front of the mirror, but every attempt made me cry harder. My dream night was ruined.
I looked at my violet dress hanging on its hanger. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to wear it anymore.
Then came the honking.
At first, I ignored it. But when it wouldn’t stop, I dragged myself to the window, thinking it was some random car. My jaw dropped.
A sleek, black limousine gleamed right outside my house.
My heart skipped. No way. That couldn’t be for me. None of my friends had said anything, and their parents had already turned down the idea. Still, I ran downstairs.
On the porch, the driver tipped his hat.
“I’m here for Miss Emily,” he said, handing my dad a small card.
“For Emily?” Dad blinked.
Shaking, I took the card and opened it. My eyes filled with tears when I read the neat handwriting inside:
To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about anything. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money. Have a magical night, sis. Love, Mason.
“Mason?!” I gasped, running upstairs.
He was in his room, grinning like the little mastermind he was.
“I heard Mom on the phone earlier, canceling your appointment,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, I made other plans.”
I hugged him tightly, still crying. “But Mason… did you really use your money?”
He smirked. “Not really. I borrowed some from Mom’s secret stash. You know, the one she’s been saving for that diamond necklace she wants? Dad told her no, but she still kept saving. I used it.”
My jaw dropped. Mason wasn’t done.
“I also went to Mr. Johnson next door—he owns the limo company. And Mrs. Evans across the street? Her daughter’s a stylist. She’s coming here to do your hair and makeup. Should be any minute now.”
Right on cue, the doorbell rang.
“That’s her!” Mason said proudly. “Go wash your face, Em. You’re gonna look amazing.”
I don’t know when Mason grew up, but in that moment, I swear he was my hero.
Twenty minutes later, I looked in the mirror and saw a princess staring back. Sparkling eyes, perfect hair, glowing makeup. Tears pricked my eyes again—not from sadness, but from gratitude.
When Carla’s car pulled up the driveway, I was already stepping into the limo, dress flowing like in a movie. She froze, her jaw hanging open.
“Richard? Did you do this?” she screeched at my dad.
I caught her expression right before the driver shut the door. Priceless. I wished I had snapped a photo.
Prom night was magical. I arrived like royalty, heads turned, and my friends squealed when they saw me. We danced, laughed, and took endless pictures. For the first time in years, I felt my mom close, like she was watching over me.
Carla tried to ruin me, but Mason saved me. And you know what? That night proved something: you can’t steal someone’s joy—not when love steps in to protect it.
And let me tell you—my little brother? He’s a legend.