Part 3 

After prom, Noah and I returned home exhausted, but Carla was waiting in the kitchen.

“You think you won?” she snapped. “You made me look like a monster.”

“You handled that yourself,” I replied.

She pointed at Noah.

“And you. Sneaky little freak with your sewing project.”

Noah flinched at first.

Then, for the first time in over a year, he didn’t stay quiet.

“Don’t call me that,” he said.

Carla laughed mockingly. “Or what?”

His voice trembled, but he kept going.

“You mock everything. You mocked Mom. You mocked Dad. You mocked me for sewing. You mocked her for wanting one normal night. You take and take from people, then act shocked when they finally notice.”

I had never heard him speak like that before.

Before Carla could respond, someone knocked on the front door.

It was the attorney and Tessa’s mom.

The attorney spoke calmly.

“Given tonight’s events and prior concerns, the court will review the guardianship and the trust funds. Until then, these children won’t be left here without support.”

Three weeks later, Noah and I moved in with our aunt.

Two months after that, Carla lost control of the money completely.

She fought it.

She lost.

The dress still hangs in my closet today.

One of the teachers sent photos of it to a local arts director, and Noah ended up getting invited into a summer design program.

He pretended not to care for almost an entire day before I caught him smiling at the acceptance email.

Sometimes I still run my fingers over the seams of that dress.

Carla wanted everyone to laugh at me that night.

Instead, it became the first time people truly saw us.