“Oh my God, did she bring her little brother?”
“Look at that! One and a half dates!”
Someone shouted, “Maybe you should carry him so he can reach the punch bowl!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. I felt my cheeks burn. Elliot’s hand tightened around mine, but he kept his head high and led me straight to the dance floor like he owned it. The DJ was playing “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. Elliot pulled me close—or as close as our height difference allowed—and we swayed together. He looked up at me with so much love that the cruel words faded into background noise.
For a few beautiful minutes, it was just us.
Then a group of girls near the bleachers started up again. “Maybe she should just pick him up and dance with him like a baby!”
Tears stung my eyes. I leaned down and whispered, “Maybe we should go. We don’t need this.”
Elliot shook his head. “No, Aaliyah. This is our night. They don’t get to take it.”
Before I could respond, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Mrs. Parker, our math teacher and one of the prom chaperones. She had always been kind to both of us.
“Aaliyah, Elliot—could you two come up on stage with me for a moment?”
The music was still playing, but people were already groaning and complaining as we followed her up the steps to the stage. Whispers spread like wildfire.
“What’s this about?”
“Probably another pity award.”
Mrs. Parker took the microphone and signaled the DJ to cut the music. The gym fell into a restless quiet.
