I have three simple wishes. They’re really not too much to ask. The first is to attend the winter formal dressed like Cinderella. Dress so wide I’ll only be able to enter the dance through a set of double doors. But I’ll hold my skirts high as I arrive to reveal a pair of platform combat boots, so everyone can see that, underneath the frills, I’m punk-rock tough. The second is for my parents to approve of my boyfriend. They hate him. They hate his bleached hair with its constant dark roots, a