The zipper stuck for a moment, but I got it closed. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to decide whether I liked what I saw or not. It wasn’t perfect, but something about it made me pause.
I saw a version of myself I hadn’t stood face to face with in years. She was older, yes. She was softer in some places, yes. But she looked hopeful.
She looked like someone who still wanted to be chosen.
Then I heard those horrible girls again. I heard their laughter and their mocking comments.
“Do you think she actually put it on?” Kayla asked, barely containing her amusement. “Do you think it actually fits her?”
“Who knows?” Jenna replied. “Maybe she’s trying to start a new trend. Senior couture.”
They laughed again, and this time, it hurt deeper.
But I didn’t cry. I looked back in the mirror, straightened the lace sleeves, and stood a little taller.
They weren’t going to take this from me.
I took a shaky breath and opened the fitting room door. They didn’t see me at first.
