More laughter. I knew then it was going to be a long night, but I had no idea just how crazy it would get.
“Did she seriously bring her little brother to prom?”
I felt Elliot’s hand tighten around mine for half a second before he relaxed it again.
“Don’t look at them,” he whispered calmly.
But it was impossible not to.
Girls covered their mouths while giggling. Boys elbowed each other and stared openly. Some people even pulled out their phones.
And the worst part?
None of this was new anymore.
Some people even pulled out their phones.
Two years earlier, Elliot had transferred to our school midway through sophomore year. I still remembered the way the classroom had gone quiet when he walked in behind the principal for the first time.
He had achondroplasia. Dwarfism. He was short enough that people noticed before they noticed anything else about him, like his smile, his wicked sense of humor, or how smart he was.
Our teacher had introduced him like any other student, but by lunch, the jokes had already started.
He had achondroplasia.
“Do they charge half price for school photos?” One boy said.
“Can he even reach the top locker?” Another replied.
“Did somebody lose their kid?” One of the popular girls said to her friends.
Most people laughed because everyone else did.
I didn’t.
I sat next to him in chemistry three days later because nobody else would.
At first, I think that Elliot expected pity from me. Instead, we argued about movies for an hour.
Most people laughed because everyone else did.
We quickly became friends. Then, somehow, without me even realizing when it happened, he became the person I wanted to talk to first every morning.
He listened when I was stressed about exams.
He brought soup to my house when I got sick.
And when he laughed, really laughed, he made me laugh too.
Eventually, I fell in love with him, and we started dating.
Unfortunately, everyone else at school decided that made me a joke, too.
I fell in love with him.
“Why are you dating him?”
“You know you could get a normal boyfriend, right?”
“I guess she likes feeling tall.”
At first, the comments hurt.
Then they became background noise.
Or at least, I pretended they did.
“Why are you dating him?”
Elliot usually handled it better than I did. He had years more experience pretending cruel people didn’t matter.
But every now and then, when someone thought he couldn’t hear them, I would catch this tiny flicker in his face.
Like he was tired of having to prove he deserved basic respect.
That was why prom mattered to me so much.
I wanted one perfect night for him.
Just one.
That was why prom mattered to me so much.
My mom had spent weeks helping me choose my dress. Elliot showed up at my house in a navy suit with a tiny blue rose pinned to his jacket.
My father shook his hand at the door and said, “You look sharp tonight, son.”
And Elliot smiled so hard his entire face lit up.
“Are you ready?” he asked me nervously.
