Prom after the firestorm: Santa Rosa teens revel in tradition amid year of pain

She wanted everything to be perfect, just for one night.

Things hadn't been perfect for a long time, not since the most destructive fire in California history wrecked everything: her home, her boyfriend's home, her school, her 18-year-old optimism. But tonight would be different. She had a prom ticket and a red silky gown. It was floor-length with skinny straps that crisscrossed in the back. She loved it.

Kelly Danoff is 18 but doesn't act like it. Recovering from disaster can make you grow up faster than planned. The Tubbs Fire closed her school just north of Santa Rosa, Cardinal Newman High, for two weeks, destroyed half its campus, obliterated thousands of homes and businesses, and killed 24 people.

Nearly seven months had passed, and now Kelly and her longtime boyfriend, Ryan Miller, 17, were going to senior prom. It was a chance to celebrate a familiar milestone in a year that was anything but normal. And it almost didn't happen.

``We didn't know what to do about prom, but we ultimately decided that it would be better to have it.'' said Graham Rutherford, the principal of the part of Cardinal Newman that's still standing. ``We didn't want the kids to feel like they lost something again.''

Last Sunday, late afternoon sunshine washed into Kelly's temporary bedroom at her family's temporary home. Hours of primping had left her almost ready. Her hair was loosely curled, like in a photo she'd found on Pinterest. Her nails were chrome and shaped like tiny coffins -- the same way Kylie Jenner does hers. Kelly's mom, Kim, adjusted the straps of the red gown.

Kelly's pink phone pinged. She was late.

``Can you please hurry,'' Ryan's message read. Their classmates were already taking photos at the Kendall-Jackson winery outside Santa Rosa.

``We gotta go, he's getting mad,'' Kelly said. Her mom smeared pink gloss on her lips, and they were out the door.

This time, they were together, unlike the night of Oct. 8. Kelly was at the family home in the Fountaingrove neighborhood of Santa Rosa with her 11-year-old brother, Jake, and 14-year-old sister, Katelin. Her dad was attending a funeral in New Mexico. Her mom had won a free night at the Graton Resort and Casino in Rohnert Park. Kelly had to be the adult.

That night, as flames swept west from Calistoga, she helped her siblings pack their bags. She tried to load their cat, Jazzy, into her carrier, but Jazzy refused, had to be left behind, and likely perished. Ash fell from the sky like snow. It looked like winter at the cabin near Mount Shasta she and Ryan visited one winter.

Kelly called her mom, and Kim left the casino to pick up her children before dropping Kelly off at Ryan's home in Santa Rosa's Coffey Park, just west of Fountaingrove. But Kelly wasn't there long, because the fire jumped Highway 101 and burned Coffey Park to the ground. Even as she was forced to evacuate a second time, she felt safe. That's how Ryan makes her feel.

``I called my dad at 3 a.m., and he had no idea what was going on,'' Kelly said. ``I was like, 'Dad, don't freak out or anything, but all of Santa Rosa is on fire right now.' I was pretty sure our house was gone. But Ryan was with me, and I knew if anything happened, I'd be OK.''

More than half a year later, her parents were still talking about that night as the prom corsages were pinned and couples lined up to take photos in front of the winery's rosebushes. Girls in silk, taffeta and tulle tottered in sky-high heels. They were teenagers in women's clothing, looking too grown-up in the way you do for prom.

Kelly held Ryan's hand. Around them, conversation came in snippets: Are you rebuilding? Are you having a graduation party? Are you recovering from the fires?

Soon, the senior class would board a bus at Cardinal Newman bound for the Bentley Reserve in San Francisco. The theme was ``Prom, Newman Prom,'' a spin on the James Bond movies. The venue was half price because it was Sunday. The parochial school couldn't afford more.

The damage at Cardinal Newman was so extensive that the building won't be repaired until next school year. The Tubbs Fire demolished 19 of 35 classrooms, the office, the library, baseball and soccer fields. Of the 621 students, 110 -- including Kelly and Ryan -- lost homes. So did three staff members.

Each grade had to shift to a different campus. Freshmen and juniors went to parishes in Santa Rosa. Sophomores went to Windsor. The seniors went to Saint Joseph's Church in Cotati, which had neither Wi-Fi nor classrooms. The gym had to be partitioned, and the teachers' voices echoed, a constant distraction.

The drive to the church in Cotati was too much for Kelly's parents, who had three children to drive to three schools. Kelly's silver Mazda had burned with her home, and she had no way to get to school. So she moved in for a few months with her best friend, Jillian Karuza, 17, in the community of Larkfield-Wikiup near Cardinal Newman.

Jillian's sister is in college, and Kelly lived in her room. The bed had the same flowered sheets Kelly used to have -- a small comfort. The room didn't let in much street light, so Kelly bought a nightlight. She's afraid of the dark.

Jillian and Kelly felt like sisters. They brushed their teeth in side-by-side sinks. They studied for finals. Sometimes they shared a bed. Other times they fought until both cried.

The rest of Kelly's family moved in with her grandparents in Rohnert Park. Kim and Paul Danoff slept on the couch. Their two younger children shared a bed. Kelly didn't see her family as much.

``Keep a positive mind,'' her dad told her. ``You have to accept what has happened and move forward.''

The couple were familiar with loss. His family escaped eastern Europe during the Holocaust. Hers fled the Vietnam War. But healing from the fire was hard. They lost their mementos -- the videotapes and photos, the joyous swimming pool, the ``Jason'' mask Paul had used to scare Kelly and her friends during sleepovers.

``I went back to the house a few months after the fires and just sobbed,'' he said. ``I had flashbacks of raising the kids in each room. I saw the baby crib. I saw the parties with Kelly. We had such an abundance of joy in that house. They were about to clean the lot, and it was going to be gone. It was about to be a piece of land, devoid of meaning.''

The Danoffs were underinsured and fought with their adjuster. They aren't sure they can afford to rebuild their five-bedroom home. If they do, Kelly won't be there to fill it with new mementos. She's leaving for Biola University, a Christian school in Los Angeles County, this fall. She wants to become a nurse.

Kelly's parents seem fallible to her now. Sometimes, she feels depressed. She isn't sure why.

Paul wishes his daughter would talk to him more. But he knows she's still a teenager, and that this is the way of teenagers. He loves her anyway for her compassion, her hugs, her strong-willed streak.

In January, Cardinal Newman students returned to campus and Kelly moved back in with her parents, who rented a condo in Fountaingrove. It's in the same neighborhood where Kelly grew up, but the Tubbs Fire didn't reach it. Sometimes, when she's driving home late at night, she can almost pretend the old house is still standing.

She attends class in a portable unit in Cardinal Newman's parking lot. Nearly every night, she and Ryan study together. He's better at government, she at trigonometry and physics. They get the same grades -- mostly A's with one B-plus. Last semester, Kelly got a 4.0, even though some of her homework burned in the fire. She's proud of that.

They aren't sure if they'll stay together in college. They've dated for two years -- ever since they shared art class in sophomore year and began messaging each other on Snapchat. Ryan sent Kelly silly selfies and photos of his cats. Her parents like them together. Last year, they let Ryan join their family vacation to Oahu.

He's going to Santa Rosa Junior College to study criminal justice, probably. Kelly wants to ``focus on myself.'' They haven't really talked about what comes next.

But at the end of April, for one night, Kelly forgot about finals, and the fire, and leaving for Southern California. Prom had arrived. She and Ryan got on the bus together and talked all the way to San Francisco. They drove over the Golden Gate Bridge as the sun set. The city was bathed in golden light. It was beautiful.

Downtown, at the Bentley -- the Old Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco building on Battery Street -- they wore silly props in the photo booth, had their caricature drawn and played blackjack. Kelly went through the buffet twice. She loved the nachos.

Halfway through the evening, her high heels began digging into her toes, so she took them off and tucked them under a table. Her gown dragged on the floor. The curls began falling out of her hair. Chaperones stood to the side, sipping from soda cans.

Near the DJ booth, Kelly and Ryan belted out lyrics to pop songs. He wrapped his hands around her hips. The seniors clustered in tight circles dancing. Their arms seemed to move in slow motion under the flashing lights.

Her classmates looked different now -- bright and grown-up in their tuxedos and sparkling dresses. Kelly and Ryan were in the center of the mass, part of something bigger.

The music was so loud she could feel it in her chest. And for a few hours, she felt like a teenager again.