Chapter 4: The Boy Who Knew Too Much
At 5:42 p.m., I stood in front of my mirror wearing the dress I'd rebuilt from the ruins.
The crimson rose curved across the skirt, its silver edges catching the light whenever I moved. The dark blue bodice fitted perfectly, and the back seam held firm.
For the first time since Mom died, I felt beautiful without wondering whether someone would take that feeling away from me.
I put on a pair of simple silver earrings and slipped my phone into a small black purse.
Then I heard a knock.
Dad stood in the doorway.
He looked at the dress for a long moment.
"Claire," he said softly, "you made that?""
"Yes.""
His eyes moved to the rose.
"It's incredible.""
I looked at him carefully, searching for pity or the awkward politeness people used when they didn't want to criticize something.
I found neither.
"Thank you.""
He swallowed.
"I should have protected you yesterday.""
I turned toward the mirror.
"Yes, you should have.""
He nodded, accepting the answer.
"I spoke to Patricia. I told her Vanessa has to take responsibility for what she did.""
"What did she say?""
"She said I was exaggerating.""
I almost laughed.
"Of course she did.""
Dad rubbed his hands together.
"I can't force you to forgive either of them. But I want you to know I'm going to handle this differently.""
I wanted to believe him.
"Then start by letting me go to prom without another argument.""
He smiled sadly.
"Fair enough.""
He offered to drive me, but I declined. I needed to meet Ethan, and I didn't want Dad caught in the middle of another confrontation.
At 5:58, I arrived behind the school.
The sky was turning gold, and music drifted faintly from the gym. Students were beginning to arrive, their parents taking photographs beside the entrance.
Ethan stood near the loading dock, wearing a dark suit and holding his phone in both hands.
When he saw me, his expression changed.
"Claire.""
"What's going on?""
He looked at my dress.
For several seconds, he seemed unable to speak.
"You made that?""
"Yes.""
"It's beautiful.""
"Thank you. Now tell me why you canceled.""
He looked down.
"I didn't cancel because I wanted to.""
"Then why did you?""
He hesitated.
"Vanessa called me this morning. She told me you had a breakdown after ruining your own dress. She said you were threatening to accuse her of things she didn't do, and that you were planning to use me to embarrass your family.""
I stared at him.
"She told you I ruined my own dress?""
"Yes.""
"Did you believe her?""
"Not completely. But then she sent me a picture of your bedroom. There was paint everywhere.""
"Because she threw it at me.""
"I know that now.""
"How?""
He held out his phone.
"Because I got another message from her.""
He opened the conversation.
The first messages were familiar. Vanessa had sent him a photograph of the paint-covered carpet, claiming I'd lost control and destroyed my own dress.
But beneath them was a message he'd received at 3:14 that morning.
If you take Claire to prom, I'll tell everyone what happened between us last summer.
I read it twice.
"What happened between you two?""
Ethan looked miserable.
"Nothing happened. That's the problem. Vanessa told people we were secretly dating last summer. I rejected her, and she got angry.""
I blinked.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought she'd stop if I ignored it. Then she started telling people I was leading her on.""
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"When she threatened me this morning, I panicked. I thought if I stayed away from you, she'd leave you alone.""
"So you abandoned me because you were afraid of her?""
He flinched.
"Yes.""
I looked toward the gym.
The entrance was decorated with silver stars and blue ribbons. Students in formal clothes were laughing beneath the lights.
"I needed you to tell me the truth," I said.
"I know.""
"I didn't need you to rescue me. I needed you not to believe a lie without asking me.""
"I'm sorry, Claire.""
For a moment, I considered walking away.
Then I noticed his hands trembling.
"Do you have proof that she lied?""
He nodded.
"She sent me a voice message last night. I saved it because I thought she might delete it.""
He pressed play.
Vanessa's voice came through the speaker, clear and unmistakable.
"Listen carefully, Ethan. If you take Claire to prom, I'll make sure everyone knows you were the one who helped her destroy that dress. I can make people believe anything I want. They already know she's jealous of me.""
The recording ended.
Ethan looked at me.
"I should have told you immediately.""
"Yes, you should have.""
"I can't undo it.""
"No.""
He swallowed.
"But I can still go with you, if you'll let me.""
I studied his face.
I didn't want a date who was afraid of Vanessa. I didn't want someone who needed to be convinced that I deserved basic respect.
But Ethan had admitted his mistake without blaming me.
That mattered.
"You can walk in with me," I said.
"But I'm not pretending nothing happened.""
"I understand.""
We started toward the main entrance.
Before we reached it, Ethan stopped.
"There's something else.""
I closed my eyes briefly.
"Of course there is.""
He gave a nervous laugh.
"Vanessa isn't just trying to keep you away from prom. She's been telling people you're entering the young designers showcase.""
I stiffened.
"How does she know about that?""
"She saw your application.""
"I haven't submitted it.""
"She took a picture of the brochure when you left it on the kitchen counter. She sent it to some people at school.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did she say?""
"That you were planning to claim a famous designer's work as your own.""
I stared at him.
"That's ridiculous.""
"I know. But she's been telling people all afternoon.""
For a moment, the lights around the entrance seemed too bright.
Vanessa hadn't merely wanted to ruin my evening. She wanted to make sure that even if I recovered, nobody would believe in what I'd created.
She wanted my talent to become another reason to laugh at me.
"Did anyone believe her?"" I asked.
Ethan hesitated.
"Some people did.""
I looked at the dress.
My dress.
Every stitch represented hours of work. Every red petal reminded me of the moment I could have given up and chosen to cry instead.
I wasn't going to hide it.
"Then I'll let them see the truth.""
Ethan nodded.
We entered the gym together.
The room was filled with music, glittering decorations, and students taking photographs beneath an arch of silver balloons.
For a few minutes, everything seemed normal.
Then I noticed the crowd near the center of the dance floor.
Vanessa stood beside Patricia, wearing a shimmering gold gown. Several students surrounded her, laughing at something on her phone.
When she saw me, her smile disappeared.
Then she raised her voice.
"Oh, look. Cinderella actually made it.""
People turned.
Vanessa lifted her phone.
"Everyone, I have a question. Does anyone here know who really designed Claire's dress?""
The laughter faded.
She stepped toward me, holding up a photograph of my design brochure.
"Because Claire has been telling people she's a fashion designer now. And I think we should all know the truth.""
I felt Ethan tense beside me.
Vanessa's eyes glittered.
"Go on, Claire. Tell everyone where you stole that design.""
I looked around the room.
Dozens of faces stared back.
Some were curious.
Some were amused.
And a few looked uncomfortable.
I took a slow breath.
Then I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone.
"Before I answer that," I said, "I think everyone should hear something.""
I pressed play.
Vanessa's recorded voice filled the gym.
I can make people believe anything I want.
Her smile vanished.
For the first time all evening, she looked afraid.
But before I could play the rest of the recording, someone behind me shouted, "Wait! Is that the same dress from the video?""
I turned.
A student near the entrance held up his phone.
On the screen was a video of me standing in my bedroom, wearing the pale blue dress before it had been ruined.
The clip had been taken from somewhere inside my house.
May you like
And in the reflection of my bedroom mirror, barely visible in the background, stood Vanessa.
Holding the bucket of red paint.
