Finding Grace by B. E. Baker

Author:B. E. Baker [Baker, B. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple Puppy Publishing

9

Addy

**TEN YEARS AGO**

Mary and I are rummaging through my closet for the fourth time, hoping that something viable will miraculously emerge, when Mom knocks on the doorframe.

“Still panicking over prom?” Her expression is compassionate. I told her weeks ago, but I also understand we don’t have money for a fancy dress.

“It’s fine, Mom. I told you. I’ll figure something out.”

“You could put the plaid skirt with that white shirt.” Mom reaches for the skirt.

Oh good. The richest guy at school asked me to prom, and I can go dressed as a Catholic private school kid with a slightly-too-small plaid skirt.

I know we’re lucky that mom makes enough to pay for necessities. I’m also grateful that grandma and grandpa pitch in when things get unbearably tight, but some days I don’t feel super lucky. Today is one of those days.

“Prom’s tomorrow, Mom. Mary came over to brainstorm.”

“I’m here right at the perfect time, then.” Mom sighs. “Because if you didn’t tell me that the plaid skirt idea was stupid, you’re really desperate.”

Of course I’m desperate. I’m a sophomore going to prom with a senior, and my best option for a dress is. . .I don’t have a single one.

Mom’s beaming when she reaches behind my door and pulls out a bag. “I realized when I was in the attic looking for—you know what? It doesn’t matter. The point is that the Christmas pillows I bought with my bonus still had the tags on them. It was a little over 90 days, but the lady at Ross took pity on me and. . .” She whips something slinky out of the bag and extends it toward me.

I take it from her greedily, my hopes soaring.

“It was originally over a hundred dollars,” Mom says.

It’s a champagne colored sheath dress, and I can barely believe my eyes. Until I put in on, that is. The dress itself isn’t so bad—it’s even the right size. But someone stupid dolled it up with cascading flowers sewn on from the bottom of my bust on the right side, all the way down to my hip. The embellishments are bright white flowers that are almost blinding against the champagne fabric. The material they’re made with wasn’t the highest quality to begin with, and possibly from being on the rack for so long, or possibly from the heat of a warehouse, the flowers have drooped.

They look like blobs of melted marshmallows sliding down the side of my body.

Ugh.

It takes every ounce of my energy to convince my mother that I’m absolutely giddy about her brilliant find, but the second she leaves, I start bawling, and I can’t stop. Not even when Ben calls—Mary tells him I’m taking a shower, which is ridiculous. Who takes a shower at five in the afternoon?

It takes me almost half an hour to calm down, and I’m not sure I would have, except for Mary’s idea.

“What if we took the flowers off?”

I wipe at my face. “If we did what?”

“The dress isn’t so bad. It’s the flowers that ruin it.

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