A/N: Lol, yes, I'm updating TPS again. Why? Well I like this better than the others. :) Plus it's much easier for me to write. Enjoy! And thanks for the reviews! I loved em'. :D

Disclaimer: Pokemon ain't mine. x)

(May's POV)

Chelsea and I had patched things up. I had apologized, of course and she accepted it. I mean - I couldn't imagine what I'd do if we still weren't talking to each other. But however – guess what? Drew never called.

I waited practically the whole day beside the phone but nothing. Was he really that mad? Not that I can blame him… It was entirely my fault… How I wished I could just rewrite every line of what just happened within these few days. I checked the beach the next day, hoping to find his familiar head of green hair but he wasn't there. Another guy was in his place. Blinking the tears out of my eyes, I headed back home.

It was empty except for Aunt Vicki reading a book on the couch. She smiled weakly at me and I returned it. I knew she saw what I was feeling. And she didn't interrogate me. I really appreciated that. I stumbled up to my room and threw myself on the bed, my thoughts spinning. I knew where Chelsea had gone. She said she was going to the boardwalk to check out the new CD store. I was too busy waiting for the phone to go along with her. Didn't really felt like it either.

Suddenly the loud tone of my mobile phone came ringing out and I was never this happy to hear it ring. Grabbing it with a happy smile on my face, I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Don't get too excited. It's me."

My heart sank. I was so disappointed. It was Chelsea, but what was she calling for? And why did she sound so muffled? "Oh, hey."

"Still depressed that Drew hasn't called? Well don't be," she said, her voice muffled on the other end.

"What? Why? And why do you sound so muffled?" I asked.

"I'm in Steve's closet," she replied. (A/N: Ry... make a comment if you dare. xP)

"How in the world did you get to Steve's closet?!" I asked, getting more frazzled by the second.

"May! Chill!" she commanded. "I was at the CD store when I saw Steve. He was picking up some CDs. He told me that he was holding a pool party at his house. So I followed along. Man, it's so crowded and loud in the house that I dragged the phone into the closet to call you."

"Oh," I answered, calming down.

"I just had to," she continued. "I'll bet you anything that you didn't know Drew was in the hospital!"

"Wait, what?" I asked. "Drew's in the hospital?"

"Yeah, believe it or not," Chelsea replied. "He had his appendix taken out."

"Appendix taken out?" I repeated. "When?"

"I don't know. Probably some time yesterday," Chelsea answered. "Hey, look – it's real stuffy and hot in here and I think a coat just fell on me. I was calling to tell you this. He's in Bay Hospital. So if you wanna see him…"

"I get the picture," I replied. "Thanks for the call, Chels."

"No prob," she answered. "The others might miss me. I'll be home soon, May."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and sighed. How worse can my summer get?

For the next three days, I wondered what I should do about Drew. I looked over the get-well cards at the stationery store but neither the sentimental cards adorned with roses and violets nor the cards painted with elephants or kittens and silly verses seemed exactly right for someone like Drew.

What do you give to a boy in the hospital? A book? But I don't know what he likes to read. Chocolates? No, that won't be good. My mind closed in on one thing: flowers. But what kind of flowers? They have to be masculine, I decided to myself. Maybe yellow geraniums…? No, those were too feminine. Sighing, I couldn't think of any flowers that were just fit for someone like Drew. I decided to finally ask my aunt. Hey – maybe she could have better ideas than my mom, right?

"Aunt Vicki?" I began, and she looked up from the cross-stitching she was doing.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Well um," I started. "Is… flowers an okay thing to give to someone in the hospital? I mean – a boy in the hospital."

My aunt smiled. "Flowers are wonderful! If you'd like we have the chrysanthemums in the flower bed that Uncle Brian spent all year on."

"I'll go look at them," I mumbled noncommittally and went outside to check on the chrysanthemums. I lifted the head of one of my uncle's chrysanthemums, a great spidery blossom, in a delicate shade of pink. It was fragile and lovely but honestly – pink flowers for Drew? I mean – did Aunt Vicki really expected me to pick some clumps of chrysanthemums from the back yard and throw them in his face? No, I'd have to make a trip to the local floral shop. Nice bouquet paper would do fine.

It was easy, right? Just walk into the flower shop, ask the florist for some masculine flowers, make him wrap them up in nice paper, and ask him to deliver it to Drew. Piece of cake.

Taking some money from my drawer, and telling my aunt where I was going, I made my way to the florists, feeling confident. I found the shop, 'La Belle'. One window displayed a bouquet of white stock and chrysanthemums suitable for a wedding. The other was filled with philodendron; its split leaves the size of dinner plates, climbing a moss-covered stick. Confidently I walked inside, the scent of all different types of flowers striking my nose.

"May I help you?"

I turned to see a stout man, wearing a yellow smock over his white shirt and looking at me through his glasses.

"Yes, please." I glanced around at the display of vases, figurines, and potted plants. "I want to send some flowers to someone in the hospital."

"We have some nice yellow roses," the florist said, reaching into the refrigerator at the back of the shop and pulling out a container of roses. "We can give you a nice arrangement of a dozen and a half roses tied with a yellow satin ribbon and set in a round glass bowl for five dollars."

I looked at the roses dubiously. They were very pretty. Too pretty. It was almost difficult to believe that such perfect blooms had once been attached to bushes with roots growing in soil and manure. No, hothouse roses with satin ribbons were not right for Drew. "I don't think that's exactly what I had in mind," I told the florist.

"We have some nice chrysanthemums today," suggested the man, pointing to a container of spidery blooms. They weren't nearly as pretty as the ones in the backyard of my aunt's house.

"No, I don't think so," I replied. I started to feel embarrassed. The florist was probably impatient with me now.

"Are the flowers for a new mother?" asked the florist. "Perhaps, I could interest you in…"

"Oh no," I cut him off. "They're for a-a man."

"I see," he replied as if he realized the importance of the occasion. "A young man?"

"I guess. I wanted something more… well, something more masculine."

"Yes, of course," agreed the man. "Let's see…" he muttered to himself. "Masculine flowers…"

I began to feel uncomfortable. I hadn't realized that it would be so difficult to select flowers.

"I have it!" the florist exclaimed. "How about glads?" He reached into the fridge and brought out a couple of stalks of pink gladiolas and held them up for my inspection. "Nothing too sissy about glads, eh?"

I scrutinized the blossoms on the long straight stems. They were pink – but not a delicate, feminine pink. They were more of a flaming sunset pink. Yes, I decided. Gladiolas could probably be passed as masculine flowers.

"With a few delphiniums and some ferns they make a nice arrangement," said the florist hopefully. "I can throw in some ferns for three dollars and a half."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll take them." I was glad to make my decision at last. Digging into my coin purse for some money, I handed it on the counter. "And would you please send them to Bay Hospital?"

"Sorry miss," said the florist. "We don't deliver under five dollars."

I was taken back by the news. It was about four blocks to the hospital. I could walk over with the flowers and leave them at the information desk to be sent up to Drew's room. "I'll take them anyway," I told him. "I can carry them over myself."

"You can write a card if you'd like," the florist suggested. "I'll have the flowers ready for you in a few minutes."

I sat down at the desk in the corner of the shop and chose a plain white card. I wrote, "Dear Drew, I am sorry to hear about your operation. I hope you get well soon. May." Then I carefully write Drew Hayden on an envelope and was about to put the card inside when I realized that the message was all wrong. It was too stiff and prim. I tore the card to bits and dropped them into the waste-basket. On a second card I wrote, "Sorry to hear about your bad luck. Hope you get well soon. I already miss the ice-cream nights. xP May." That was much better. It was friendly, casual and not so prim.

"Here we are," announced the florist.

I looked up from the desk to look and I was glad I was sitting down. Otherwise, the shock of seeing the flowers might have been too much for me. They were not discreetly wrapped in green paper like I had imagined. The flaming sunset gladiolas, the intense blue delphiniums, and the ferns were arranged in a foil-covered container ornamented with a blue ribbon. The stalks of flowers stuck out like the spikes on the crown of the Statue of Liberty, and the spaces between were filled with asparagus ferns. The whole lurid thing was at least three feet across. Whoa.

"Made up real nice, didn't it?" the florist adjusted a fern and stood back to admire his work.

"Uh... yes," I stuttered. What was I going to do? I couldn't tell the florist that I had changed my mind after I had paid him and he had gone through all that work and looked so pleased with what he had done. For a frantic moment I considered rushing out of the shop, never to return. But I couldn't do that either. I couldn't do anything except deliver the monstrous bouquet.

"Is something wrong?" asked the man. "You don't like it?"

"It's very pretty," I answered. Well it was pretty in a gaudy way. The blossoms were fresh, the blue bow was jaunty and the colors harmonized. It was just so... big. "Thanks for arranging the flowers," I said as I peered through the foliage at the florist.

"Here, let me open the door for you," said the florist. The bouquet was too wide for the door, so I walked sideways out of the shop.

Well... embarrassment, here I come.

A/N: Ta-da! :) What do you think? I was going to write more, but the florist scene took a lot of space and I didn't want the chapter to be dragging on forever. So… people, I'll leave you guessing of what happens next. Updates will probably be after New Year! Whoo, 2009's coming up! :D Anyhow, don't worry if you don't know all those flowers, I didn't too. But asking a real florist for some info always helps. ;)

I know, you don't care. But REVIEW! Flames are NOT welcome but constructive criticism is. ;)

- Suzie :o))