“It became my business,” the principal said calmly, “when I heard one of our students almost skipped prom because she was told there was no money for a dress.”
A ripple moved through the crowd.
He gestured toward me.
“Then I heard her younger brother made one by hand from their late mother’s jeans.”
Now everyone was staring.
Carla tried to laugh it off.
“You’re turning gossip into theater.”
Before the principal could answer, a man stepped forward from the aisle.
I recognized him vaguely from Dad’s funeral.
He took
