STELLA

Prom is supposed to be the night you remember forever, not me, I'm already counting down the hours before I can forget it.

Marina doesn’t get that though.

She’s been fluttering around my room since I put the dress on, adjusting straps that don’t need adjusting, reapplying lipstick I didn’t ask for, and making these little squeaky noises like I’m about to accept an Oscar instead of attending a glorified school dance.

“It’s your big night, Stellochka,” she keeps ...