Same. Dress. Same color.
Same style. Everything. She grinned like she’d won.
“Oh, honey! We match!” she squealed, fake-excited. “Isn’t that adorable?
Like a real mother-daughter moment!”
Dad looked stunned. “Why would you wear that?” I choked out. “I just thought it would be cute!” she said, batting her lashes.
“You never told me what dress you picked, so I had to guess!”
Guess? Yeah, right. She’d definitely snooped in my closet.
Dad frowned. “Carol… this is a bit much.”
Her sweet act slipped for a second. “Well, if I’m paying for her to live here, I can wear what I want,” she snapped.
*”It’s not like this is *her* special night.”*
Then she leaned in, smirking, and whispered just loud enough for me to hear:
“Don’t worry, sweetie. No one’s going to be looking at you anyway.”
My stomach dropped. Dad didn’t say anything.
I forced a smile. “We should go. My date’s coming soon.”
Prom Night Revenge (Thanks to Karma)
At prom, my friends were furious when they saw what Carol had done.
“She wore YOUR DRESS?!” my best friend Sarah shrieked. “It’s fine,” I lied. “Let’s just have fun.”
And we did—until Carol showed up at the dance.
“I just wanted pictures with my stepdaughter!” she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. She’d even styled her hair like mine and copied my makeup. It was creepy.
People started whispering. *”Carol, what are you *doing* here?”* I hissed. “Supporting you, honey!”
Then—karma struck.
Carol, never graceful in heels, tripped over her own dress. “Whoops—!”
She stumbled, arms flailing—and crashed into the punch table. SPLASH.
Red punch exploded all over her dress. She shrieked, flailing backward—right into the flower display. CRASH.
Roses and baby’s breath flew everywhere. The entire senior class stopped dancing. “OH MY GOD,” Sarah yelled.
“WHY IS SHE WEARING JOCELYN’S DRESS?!”
Laughter erupted. Someone shouted, “CREEPY CAROL!”
Pictures were taken. The nickname stuck.
Carol scrambled up, dripping punch, face red with rage. *”You *planned* this!”* she screamed at me. “I didn’t do anything,” I said calmly.
“You did this to yourself.”
She stormed out, leaving a trail of ruined flowers behind her. The crowd cheered. For the rest of the night, people kept coming up to me.
*”Your stepmom is *insane!”
“She totally got what she deserved!”
Instead of ruining my night, Carol had made me the queen of prom. The Aftermath
When I got home, Carol was waiting. *”You *humiliated* me!”* she shrieked.
Dad walked in, confused. *”She *set me up!“ Carol cried. I took a deep breath.
“Dad, do you want to know what she said to me before prom?”
Carol paled. *”She told me, *‘No one’s going to be looking at you anyway.’* She wore my dress to hurt me. Then she came to prom to make sure she ruined my night.”*
Dad’s face went dark.
“Carol. Is. That.
TRUE?”
She stammered. “I—I was just trying to support her!”
*”You told my daughter *no one would look at her?!” His voice shook with anger. *”You tried to *crush* her on one of the biggest nights of her life?”*
Carol opened her mouth—but Dad cut her off.
“Go upstairs. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As she stomped away, Dad pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jocelyn.
I should’ve seen this sooner.”
The next morning, Carol texted me:
“I was jealous. You have everything I wanted with your dad. I’m sorry.”
I screenshot it.
Didn’t reply. Some apologies? They come too late.
But here’s the thing—when someone tries to dim your light? Sometimes, the universe makes them trip over their own darkness. And honestly?
That’s the best revenge of all.
