Everyone laughed when I walked into the prom holding my boyfriend’s hand because of his height. One girl even asked if I’d brought my “little brother.” I was about to leave in tears when our math teacher stopped the music, called us to the stage, and revealed a truth that left the entire room speechless.
The laughter and teasing started as soon as my boyfriend, Elliot, and I walked through the gym doors.
“Oh my God,” someone sighed near the punch table. “Did she really bring her little brother to the dance?”
Some people laughed immediately.
Another voice shouted louder, wanting to attract attention.
“It seems that one and a half people have shown up tonight!”
More laughter. Then I knew it was going to be a long night , but I had no idea just how crazy she would get.
“Did she really bring her little brother to the dance?”
I felt Elliot’s hand tighten around mine for half a second before he relaxed it again.
“Don’t look at them,” she whispered calmly.
But it was impossible not to.
The girls covered their mouths as they laughed. The boys nudged each other and stared openly. Some even pulled out their phones.
And the worst part?
None of this was new anymore.
Some even took out their phones.
Two years earlier, Elliot had transferred to our school halfway through his second year. I still remember the silence that fell over the classroom when he walked in behind the headmaster for the first time.
He had achondroplasia. Dwarfism. He was short enough that people noticed him before anything else, like his smile, his wicked sense of humor, or how intelligent he was.
Our teacher had introduced him like any other student, but by lunchtime the jokes had already started.
He had achondroplasia.
“Do they charge half price for school photos?” a boy asked.
“Can he even get to the ticket booth upstairs?” another one retorted.
“Has anyone lost their child?” one of the popular girls asked her friends.
Most people laughed because everyone was doing it.
I don’t.
I sat next to him in Chemistry three days later because nobody else did.
At first, I think Elliot expected sympathy from me. Instead, we argued about movies for an hour.
Most people laughed because everyone else was laughing.
We quickly became friends. Then, somehow, without me even realizing when it happened, she became the first person I wanted to talk to every morning.
She listened to me when I was stressed about exams.
She would bring me soup at home when I got sick.
And when she laughed, she really laughed, she made me laugh too.
Over time, I fell in love with him and we started dating.
Unfortunately, everyone else at school decided that made me a joke too.
I fell in love with him.
“Why are you dating him?”
“You know you could have a normal boyfriend, right?”
“I guess she likes feeling tall.”
At first, the comments hurt.
Then they became background noise.
Or at least, I pretended they were.
“Why are you dating him?”
Elliot used to handle it better than I did. He had years more experience pretending that cruel people didn’t bother him.
But every now and then, when someone thought they couldn’t hear me, I would catch a tiny flicker on their face.
As if he were tired of having to prove that he deserved basic respect.
That’s why the prom meant so much to me.
I wanted a perfect night for him.
Just one.
That’s why the prom meant so much to me.
My mom had spent weeks helping me choose the dress. Elliot showed up at my house wearing a navy blue suit with a small blue rose pinned to his jacket.
My father shook his hand at the door and said, “You look very elegant tonight, son.”
And Elliot smiled so much that his whole face lit up.
“Are you ready?” he asked me nervously.
I’ve never seen him so handsome.
“I’m ready.”
Now, standing inside the gym while people laughed at us again, I suddenly felt like crying.
My mom had spent weeks helping me choose the dress.
The decorations glittered under strings of lights. Couples danced together. The teachers stood near the walls, pretending not to notice what the students were saying.
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