My father made my prom dress from my late mother’s gown—but when my teacher mocked it, an officer’s arrival changed everything in seconds

loud — I know we can’t afford one.

“Dad, it’s fine,” I said. “I really don’t care that much.”

That was a lie, and we both knew it.

He folded one bill in half and set it down. “Leave the dress to me.”

I snorted. “That’s an insane sentence coming from a man who owns three identical work shirts.”

He pointed toward the sink. “Finish those dishes before I start continue reading …