Prom
Prom Punishment
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At senior prom, you stand in the center of the gym, a beacon of perfection. The prom king, the star athlete, always surrounded by admiration. The music pulses, the crowd sways, and you bask in it, the attention, the power, the popularity that gives you dominion over the other students.
Then, something shifts. A soft breeze curls through the gym, subtle but unsettling. A chill runs down your spine. Your chest feels tighter, your shoulders heavier. Your hands thinner. Panic flickers as you lift them to your face. Your sharp jawline softens, your hair lightens, losing its carefully styled perfection. Laughter swirls around you, but it feels distant. Your clothes hang differently, your posture slouches, and suddenly, glasses slide down your nose, glasses you’ve never worn before.
Something is wrong.
Your heart pounds as you step back, excusing yourself before anyone notices. A strange weight settles over you, unfamiliar and suffocating. Stumbling toward the back of the gym, you press against the cool metal of the bleachers, breath shaky.
Then, you see it, your reflection in a nearby window. But the person staring back isn’t you. Not the confident, admired version of you. This person is smaller, quieter, petite and feminine, someone who has never stood in the center of any room.
And for the first time, you understand what it feels like to be on the outside looking in.
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