"HOW WAS THE STUDENT COUNCIL meeting?" My mother asks, as I walk through the door. I furrow my eyebrows for a second, before I remember the lie I texted my mother this morning.

"Loud, Harriet wouldn't shut up about the prom theme for this year," I lie, startling myself by how easy it was. She laughs, shaking her head as she cut slices of lemon.

"Speaking of prom, are you going?" I bite the inside of my cheek, if I'm being honest I hadn't really thought about prom. I shrug my shoulders, setting down my purse and taking a seat down at the marble island. My mother, a fairly young woman at age 36, had one of the most defined faces I've ever seen. That same face is on display, as her hair is tucked into a messy bun.

"I'm not sure, I haven't really thought about it." She looks surprised, probably due to the fact I've been raving about senior prom since I was eight.

"Well, are the girls going?" Of course they are, only more reason not to go.

"I think."

"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do, but sweetheart prom only happens once in your life. You'll regret it later when you're too stressed about mortgage and all the bills to pay. Live while you're young, because you'll never get your youth back."