"Stay right here for 10 minutes."
"Glenn, I can't."
"Please." His grip tightened just barely. "I'll be back. I promise."
He wore a dark navy suit.
Glenn let go before I could argue and walked straight across the dance floor.
I was confused as I watched him weave between couples, past the punch bowl, past Lorraine, who lifted her chin as if she expected him to stop and flirt with her. He didn't even look at her.
The most popular boy kept walking up the three shallow steps to the stage and leaned over to say something to the DJ. The DJ nodded. The music cut off mid-song.
Glenn let go before I could argue.
The ballroom noise rolled to a confused stop.
Heads turned. Someone laughed nervously, then stopped when nobody joined in.
Glenn took the microphone.
He tapped it once. The soft thud echoed against the walls.
My legs felt like water, and I gripped the back of a chair to stay upright.
Glenn took the microphone.
"Sorry to interrupt," Glenn said. His voice sounded steady, but I could hear something underneath it, something raw. "I know this isn't part of the program."
Lorraine's smile stretched wider, as if she thought this was going to be some kind of prank on the poor girl.
I saw her elbow her friend, who snickered.
Glenn's eyes found mine across the room.
Lorraine's smile stretched wider.
"Before anyone laughs again," he said slowly, "there's something all of you need to know about Tina's dress."
The whispering died. Even the servers by the wall stopped moving.
"And about the man who made it."
Somebody dropped a fork. The clink was so loud in the silence that I flinched.
Lorraine's mouth opened, then closed. Her hand drifted down from her hip as if she'd forgotten what to do with it.
"There's something all of you need to know."
Glenn raised the microphone a little higher, took one breath, and looked out across a ballroom that suddenly belonged entirely to him.
"Tina's grandpa, Bill, worked at my family's auto shop for 20 years. He taught me to change a tire when I was 10. He covered for my dad during the holidays. And when my family hit a rough patch while I was in eighth grade, he quietly paid for my baseball uniform and never told a soul."
The room didn't move.
I could hear my own breathing.
"He taught me to change a tire when I was 10."
"A month ago, Grandpa Bill asked to borrow the old industrial sewing machine in the back of the shop. The one my grandma used to use for upholstery. Every night after his evening shift at the hardware store, he came back to the shop and taught himself, stitch by stitch, how to sew a prom dress for his granddaughter."
Glenn's voice cracked.
