Okay, buckle up, because this story is one wild ride you need to hear!
So, I’m Emily. I’m 17, a senior in high school, and prom night was supposed to be one of the biggest nights of my life. I had everything planned—my dream dress, a hair and makeup appointment, and all the excitement a girl could imagine.
But of course, my stepmother Carla decided she wasn’t going to let me have my perfect night without trying to ruin it.
A little backstory first.
I live with my dad, my stepmom Carla, and her son Mason. Mason’s 11, and honestly, he’s the best little brother I could ask for. But Carla? That woman cannot stand me.
It’s been this way since forever. My mom passed away seven years ago after an illness that never seemed to go away. It broke me. And before I even had time to fully grieve, my dad started seeing Carla. A year later, they were married.
My aunt wasn’t impressed at the wedding. I still remember her whispering in my ear, “Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he? And Carla—she’s nothing compared to your mom.”
At first, Carla pretended to be nice. She smiled, made small talk, acted like she cared. But slowly, the mask slipped. I’ll never forget the day she stared me down and said, “You look too much like your mother, Emily. It actually hurts me to look at you. No wonder your father gives Mason more attention. He feels closer to him.”
Her words hit me like daggers, but I bit my tongue. Dad didn’t notice a thing—he never does when it comes to Carla—and that made her even bolder.
Fast forward to prom season. I had been counting down the days. I saved babysitting money for months just to buy the most gorgeous violet dress. Violet was my mom’s favorite color, and wearing it made me feel like she’d still be part of my big night.
I wanted everything to be magical. I even booked a salon appointment at the same place my friends were going. I imagined us laughing, getting our hair curled, and then heading to prom like movie stars.
But on the morning of prom, things started unraveling.
I walked into the salon, practically skipping with excitement, only for the receptionist to frown at her computer.
“Emily? Are you sure you have an appointment?” she asked. “It says here you canceled.”
My stomach dropped. “I didn’t cancel! Why would I cancel? Prom is tonight!”
She gave me a sympathetic look and called the hairdresser, Zelda. When Zelda walked in, she looked uncomfortable.
“I got a call this morning saying you didn’t need the appointment anymore,” Zelda said softly. “I assumed it was from your mom.”
Mom. The word stung. My mom wasn’t here.
And then I spotted her. Sitting smugly in one of the salon chairs, getting her own hair done. Carla.
She smirked at me, her cold eyes glittering. She had canceled my appointment, pretending to be me—or worse, pretending to be my mom.
“Please, can’t you squeeze me in somehow?” I begged Zelda.
Zelda shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We’re fully booked now. The spot was already taken the moment your appointment was canceled.”
I rushed out of the salon, my chest tight and tears threatening to spill. Carla had ruined everything.
By the time I got home, I locked myself in my room. I tried to fix my own hair in the mirror, but every attempt looked worse than the last. My makeup sat untouched on the desk. I looked at my dress hanging there, shining and beautiful, and I thought—what’s the point?
I was about to give up on prom completely when I heard loud honking outside. At first, I ignored it, assuming it was just some car on the street. But it didn’t stop.
Annoyed, I dragged myself to the window and froze.
A sleek, glossy black limousine was parked right in front of our house.
My jaw dropped. No way. That couldn’t be for me. My friends’ parents had already said no when we talked about getting one together. My family definitely hadn’t arranged this.
I ran downstairs, and sure enough, the limo driver stepped out and walked up to our porch. Dad came outside, looking just as confused as me.
“I’m here for Miss Emily,” the driver said, handing my dad a small card.
Dad looked at me and passed me the card. I opened it with trembling hands. Inside, in careful handwriting, were the words:
To my beautiful sister Emily,
I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money.
Have a magical night, sis.
Love, Mason.
I gasped. Mason. My sweet 11-year-old brother had done this for me.
I burst into tears again, but this time they were happy tears. I ran to his room, and there he was, grinning like he’d just won a game.
“I heard Mom canceling your appointment this morning,” he explained. “It wasn’t fair. So I fixed it.”
“Fixed it? Mason, did you really spend your savings on this?” I asked, feeling awful.
He shook his head. “Not exactly. Mom’s been hiding money to buy some fancy diamond necklace, remember? Dad said no, but she kept saving anyway. I used some of that money instead. And I went to Mr. Johnson next door—he owns the limo company.”
I laughed through my tears. Mason was a genius. But he wasn’t done.
“There’s more,” he said proudly. “Mrs. Evans across the street—her daughter’s a stylist. She’s on her way here to do your hair and makeup.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“That’s her!” Mason beamed. “Go wash your face, Em. You’re about to look like a queen.”
And he was right. Twenty minutes later, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. My hair was flawless, my makeup glowing. I slipped into my violet dress, and for the first time all day, I felt like I truly belonged at prom.
Just as I was stepping outside, Carla pulled into the driveway. She got out of her car and froze when she saw me climbing into the limo like a Hollywood star.
Her face was priceless. I swear, if I had a camera, I’d have framed that picture forever.
“Richard? Did you do this?” she shrieked at my dad, who just shrugged, still confused.
Before she could say more, the limo driver shut the door, and we sped off.
Prom was magical. Heads turned when I stepped out of the limo. My friends gasped, “Emily, you look amazing!” and for once, I believed it. I danced, I laughed, I felt free. And in my heart, I felt my mom with me, proud and smiling.
Carla may have tried to ruin my night, but thanks to Mason, it became a memory I’ll treasure forever. She thought she could steal my joy, but instead, her own son became my hero.
And let me tell you, that was the sweetest revenge of all.
