I Had to Skip Prom Because My Stepmom Stole My Dress Money. But on Prom Morning, a Red SUV Pulled Up to My House.
At seventeen, my biggest dream was simple: prom. Not to be prom queen, just one night to sparkle.
Mom passed away when I was twelve. She used to tell me, “I want your life to have sparkle.” Since then, I’d been saving every penny for that dress.
I worked evenings at CVS, restocking shelves and sweeping floors. On weekends, I babysat. Every crumpled tip, every “keep the change, sweetheart” went into a red Folgers coffee can under my bed. By March, I had $312—enough for a clearance dress, kitten heels, maybe even a curling iron.
Everything was planned. My neighbor Alex had tickets. My checklist was simple: budget dress, DIY curls, drugstore makeup. Not fancy—but mine.
Then one evening, I walked into the kitchen and froze. Hailey, my stepsister, twirled in a shimmering lilac gown. The boutique bag sat on the table like a trophy.
Linda, my stepmom, smiled. “Every girl deserves her dream dress.”
I ran upstairs to check my savings. The red coffee can was gone.
I confronted her. She shrugged. “I borrowed it. For Hailey.” My $312. Gone. And with a straight face: “You don’t need a silly dress. You’re not going to prom anyway.”
That night, I cried into my pillow and texted Alex: I think I’m gonna skip.
I thought that was the end.
But prom morning came. Sunlight poured through my window… and so did the honk of a car horn.
Out front, a red SUV pulled up. The person who stepped out had other plans for me…