Chapter 1 - The Dress on the Floor
The sound of scissors cutting through fabric stopped every conversation in Marcus Williams's living room.
Jasmine stood frozen in the doorway.
Her cousin Brianna was holding a peach-colored evening gown above her head, a pair of silver dressmaking scissors in her other hand. One shoulder of the gown hung loose where the blades had sliced through the delicate tulle.
"Brianna, what are you doing?"
Brianna turned with a smile that made Jasmine's stomach drop.
"I'm fixing a problem."
"That's my dress!"
"I know whose dress it is."
Jasmine rushed forward, reaching for the fabric. Brianna lifted it higher and stepped behind the couch.
At twenty-three, Brianna was four years older than Jasmine. She had always enjoyed reminding her younger cousin that experience, expensive clothes, and a louder voice supposedly made her more important.
Today, however, something about her expression frightened Jasmine.
"Give it back!"
Brianna tilted her head.
"You really thought you were going to walk into Grandma Ruby's birthday portrait looking like some princess?"
Jasmine felt her cheeks burn.
"I bought that dress with my own money."
"Oh, congratulations. You bought yourself a costume."
Across the room, Aunt Renee and her adult son Anthony watched in disbelief. They had arrived early to help prepare the house for the family portrait celebrating Ruby Williams's seventy-fifth birthday.
Neither had expected a fight.
Neither moved quickly enough to stop what happened next.
Brianna opened the scissors again.
"Don't!" Jasmine screamed.
The blades traveled down the front of the gown.
A long, ugly tear appeared through the peach fabric.
Jasmine caught the falling dress before it hit the floor, but Brianna gave it another sharp pull, ripping the damaged shoulder almost completely free.
Then she released it.
Jasmine dropped to her knees, gathering the ruined fabric into her arms.
For six months, she had put aside whatever money she could spare from her part-time job at a neighborhood bakery. She was saving for college expenses, so buying anything beautiful for herself required careful planning.
The gown had cost $389, including alterations.
She had counted every dollar.
She remembered carrying the garment bag home, smiling at strangers on the bus because she couldn't contain her excitement.
Now the dress lay across her knees in pieces.
"Why would you do this?" she whispered.
Brianna folded her arms.
"Because somebody needed to teach you that dressing like you're special doesn't make you special."
Jasmine stared at her.
Before she could respond, footsteps sounded behind them.
Denise, Jasmine's stepmother, entered from the kitchen.
Her gaze traveled from Brianna's scissors to the ruined gown and finally to Jasmine crying on the floor.
For one hopeful moment, Jasmine believed Denise would intervene.
Instead, Denise sighed.
"Jasmine, must you always make everything so dramatic?"
Jasmine blinked.
"What?"
"It's a dress. Everybody in this house has spent all afternoon preparing for this photograph, and here you are making a scene."
"She cut it!"
Denise barely glanced at the damage.
"Then you should have handled the situation like an adult."
Jasmine looked toward Aunt Renee.
The older woman appeared ready to speak, but Denise continued.
"Get off that floor and apologize to Brianna."
The room went silent.
"Apologize?" Jasmine repeated.
"Yes. For screaming at her and ruining everyone's afternoon."
Jasmine tightened her grip around the torn fabric.
"Why do I have to apologize to somebody who destroyed something I worked for?"
Denise's expression hardened.
"Because I said so. And if you keep this up, you won't be in the family portrait at all."
That threat struck Jasmine harder than the ruined dress.
She had already missed two family photographs since Denise married her father.
Both times, Denise had found reasons why Jasmine supposedly didn't belong in the picture.
She refused to let it happen again.
"That's Grandma Ruby's picture," Jasmine said. "I'm her granddaughter."
Denise stepped closer.
"And I'm the woman managing this household."
A deep voice interrupted from the doorway.
"Then maybe you can explain why my daughter is crying on the floor."
Marcus Williams stood motionless near the hallway.
His work jacket was still over one arm.
He had heard far more than anyone realized.
His eyes moved from Jasmine to the torn dress, then toward the scissors in Brianna's hand.
"Brianna," he said quietly, "explain yourself."
Brianna shrugged.
"It was an ugly, cheap dress. She needed a lesson."
Denise immediately stepped forward.
"Marcus, honey, calm down. It's only a dress."
Marcus looked at his wife.
May you like
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then his eyes settled on the expensive handbag resting on the nearby armchair.
