He watched me unlock my driver’s side door.

“He put on quite a show in there,” Ben said, setting the crate on his tailgate.

He pushed his glasses up by the bridge, his jaw clenched against the cold wind.

“He wouldn’t even let me finish a sentence,” I said.

“He did it on purpose,” Ben said, his voice flat with anger.

“He made a scene in front of thirty parents so nobody in town would wonder why his own daughter hasn’t signed up for the prom walk.”

I leaned my shoulders against the icy window frame of the Buick and looked down at my snow boots.