My classmates called me “the princess to the mop” because my father is the school janitor. But on the night of the prom, those same people were waiting in line to apologize for what they had done to me.
My classmates laughed at me because I’m the daughter of a janitor.
I’m 18 and a half. Call me Brynn.
It made me the laughingstock of all.
My dad is a janitor in my school. His name is Cal.
It cleans the floors, empties the trash, stays late after the games, repairs what people break and never apologize.
And yes, he’s my father.
It made me the laughingstock of all.
One day, I was in front of my locker when a certain Mason screamed in the hallway:
“Hey, Brynn! Do you have extra privileges for the trash or what? »
Everyone laughed.
“The princess with the mop. »
I laughed too, because if we laugh, it doesn’t count as an injury, right?
After that, I wasn’t Brynn anymore.
I was the concierge’s daughter.
“The princess with the mop. »
No more selfies with him in his work shirt. No more “Proud of my old” legends.
One day in the cafeteria, a boy shouted, “Your father will bring a suction cup to the prom so that we don’t clog the toilet? »
Everyone burst out laughing.
I fixed my tray and pretended not to blush.
That night, I browsed my Instagram account and deleted all the photos where my father appeared.
No more selfies with him in his work shirt. No more “Proud of my old” legends.
At school, if I saw him push his wagon, I would slow down to leave a space between us.
The kids were pushing him.
I hated myself for that.
I was 14 years old and afraid of being humiliated.
My father never said anything.
The kids were pushing him.
He smiled, picked up and continued to work.
Car accident.
Mom died when I was nine.
Car accident.
After that, Dad worked overtime. Nights, weekends, whatever he wanted.
I would wake up at midnight and see him at the kitchen table with a calculator and a pile of bills.
The prom season has begun.
“Go back to sleep,” he said.
In the terminal, the jokes were less frequent, but still present.
Always with a smile.
The prom season has begun.
One afternoon, my guidance counselor, Mrs. Tara, called me in her office.
Group discussions about dresses. Limousines. Discussions about the houses by the lake and who was sneaking in secret.
My friends asked me, “Are you going? »
“No,” I replied.
They shrugged their shoulders and moved on.
I pretended not to get hurt.
One afternoon, my guidance counselor, Mrs. Tara, called me in her office.
“Your father stayed here late every night this week,” she told me.
I sat down, already expecting a speech about the future.
She crossed her hands.
“Your father stayed here late every night this week,” she told me.
I frowned. “For what reason? »
“To prepare for the ball,” she replied. “He helped hang the lights, to fix the cables, all that. »
“Isn’t that… his work? “I asked.
He didn’t notice me right away.
She shook her head.
“Not that part. The hours of guarding have their limits. He volunteered for the rest. “She took a break.
I felt my heart tighten.
That night, I found him at the kitchen table with his old calculator and a notebook.
At first, he didn’t notice me.
“Well, the tickets… the rental of the tuxedo… I may be able to pay for a dress if I…,” he mumbled.
I pulled the notebook at me.
I approached.
« Qu’est-ce que tu fais ? », lui ai-je demandé.
Il a sursauté et a couvert le cahier.
« Je regardais juste si je pouvais te trouver une robe pour le bal, si tu décidais d’y aller. »
I pulled the notebook towards me.
He immediately took on a guilty air.
Il avait écrit :
« Rent, shopping, gasoline, tickets for the ball? Dress for Brynn? »
« Papa », dis-je.
Il eut immédiatement l’air coupable.
“Hey, he. You don’t have to go. I was just thinking… if you wanted to. If it’s a question of money, I can find a solution. I’ll do overtime. Don’t worry about… »
“You want to go to the ball? »
“I’ll go,” I replied.
He’s frozen.
“You want to go to the ball? “He asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
He looked at me, then smiled slowly.
“Okay, then,” he said.
I came out of the fitting room.
We went to a thrift store in two cities there.
I found a dark blue dress that fit me perfectly.
No glitter, no voluminous skirt. Just simple and pretty.
I came out of the fitting room.
“So, then? “I asked.
He swallowed.
The prom came quickly.
“You look like your mother,” he said softly.
The prom came quickly.
“Ready? “He asked.
He wore a black suit that pulled slightly at the shoulders.
“Yes,” I replied.
He opened the door and stopped.
“Wow,” he said. “Look at you. »
I laugh. “You have to say that. »
He wore a black suit that pulled a little at the shoulders.
We drove in his old Corolla.
“You have to work? “I asked him.
“Yes,” he replied. “They need help. I’ll be like a ghost. You won’t even notice me. »
It made my stomach hurt.
We took his old Corolla.
I went out and immediately heard it.
“Are you nervous? “He asked me.
“A little. »
“Don’t forget,” he said, “no one there is better than you. Some just have more shiny cars. »
We parked along the sidewalk.
Girls in glitter and boys in suits came out of the SUVs.
I went out and immediately heard it.
My father was standing near the gym.
“Isn’t that the concierge’s daughter? »
“Wait, she came? »
I kept my head up.
Then I saw it.
My father stood by the gym’s doors, holding a large black trash bag and a broom.
He was wearing the same suit, but with blue gloves this time.
Something inside me broke.
A group passed by us.
