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My classmates made fun of my birthmark for years, and by senior year, I had already accepted that no boy would ever ask me to prom. Then the most popular boy in school reached for my hand and changed everything. But when police officers walked into the gym looking for him, my whole world broke apart.
I kept my gaze lowered to the floor, my dark hair brushed across the left side of my face to hide the birthmark that spread over my cheek like a map of a place nobody wanted to see.
At 17, I had become very good at disappearing.
That Tuesday, she was actually home for dinner, which almost never happened. She placed a plate of spaghetti in front of me and lowered herself into the chair with a tired sigh.
“Hannah, sweetheart, you’ve barely touched your food.”
She looked at my face with that quiet attention only mothers have. “Is it school again?”
My mother’s lips pressed together. She knew Brittany’s name. Brittany had bullied me for years and somehow always escaped consequences. I suspected it had something to do with the fact that she had led the cheerleading team to a state championship.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Hannah, listen to me. You only get one senior prom. Just one. Give yourself one good memory before you graduate. Please.”
“A good memory,” I repeated quietly. “Mom, the only memory I’d make is being the girl in the corner.”
I did not answer. I just kept staring down at my plate.
The next morning, my bestie, Megan, was waiting for me at the bus stop with her backpack hanging from one shoulder. She was the only person in that school who truly cared about me.
“My mom’s pushing the prom thing.”
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