She didn’t unhook it carefully or pin the waist the way she’d spent two hours doing Tuesday night.

She jammed the blue fabric into the darkest corner of the closet floor, behind her winter coats and a pile of storage boxes, and pushed the door shut until the latch clicked.

“Sadie,” I said from the doorway.

“We’ve still got six weeks until April fourteenth.

We’ll come up with something for your dress.”

“I’m not going to prom,” Sadie said.

She didn’t turn around to look at me.