53 bikers showed up in suits when school said fatherless girls couldn’t attend the daddy-daughter dance,

“No, baby.” I stepped aside. “Your date came.”

Robert walked toward Sita slowly, this massive man with a beard down to his chest and tattoos covering his neck, moving carefully like he was approaching something precious.

He knelt down to her level. “You must be Sita. I’m Robert. I’m going to be your daddy for tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

Sita looked at the corsage. Looked at his suit. Looked at his kind eyes.

“Are you a real biker?”

“Yes ma’am, I am.”

“That’s so cool!” She threw her arms around his neck. “I have the coolest date here!”

One by one, the other bikers found their girls. Forty-seven fatherless daughters meeting fifty-three men who’d volunteered to fill a role for one magical night.

Big, tough bikers crouching down to pin corsages on tiny dresses. Rough hands gently adjusting ribbons in hair. Deep voices softening to compliment sparkly shoes and princess tiaras.

The DJ started the music. And something incredible happened.

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