The hibiscus—a tropical flower symbolizing happiness, sunshine, good fortune, friendship, and love—held a special significance for my family. My mother wore a red hibiscus in her hair on the day she met my father. It was summertime in Fiore, and when Mom tore the strap on her sandal, she walked into my dad's shop to get it fixed.

Dad immediately noticed the vibrant red hibiscus tucked behind her ear and felt an instant attraction. He repaired her sandal in mere minutes, but they ended up talking for hours. That single encounter blossomed into a beautiful love story, leading to my existence and that of my sister.

From that day on, hibiscuses became a staple in our home. They adorned the kitchen table, thrived on the windowsill, and were braided into Wendy's hair. Mom even bought me a hibiscus corsage to give to my date. I wasn't sure if Minerva would appreciate it; most girls preferred fancier flowers for big dances, but I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings.

Mom was thrilled when she learned I had a date for the dance. She often worried about me not socializing enough, not making friends, or going on dates. I suspected she harbored a secret fear that I might never marry and give her grandchildren—that's what Wendy said, anyway.

"What do you think, Happy?" I asked as I dressed for the dance that night. "Should I go with the tie or the scarf?"

Happy was my cat and my closest companion. I found him as a kitten, rummaging through garbage—one of those unfortunate souls people abandoned to fend for themselves. It was sickening. I took him in, nursed him back to health, and we became inseparable. He was a better friend than any human; cats don't judge you based on looks, wealth, or your father's profession. As long as you treat them well, they'll be your friend for life.

"I should probably go with the tie, right?" I mused. "That's what people typically wear to a dance."

Happy yawned and hopped down from my bed, batting at the end of my scarf, as if to suggest I should wear what I liked rather than conform to expectations. That's why he was my best friend.

"You look so handsome," Mom said, smoothing my hair to tame any unruly strands. "As handsome as your father."

"Are we going to meet this date of yours?" Dad asked.

"I don't think so," I replied. "She wanted to meet at the dance instead of being picked up."

"That's odd," Dad remarked. "In my day, the gentleman always escorted the lady."

"Well, I have a feeling she's not one for convention," Wendy chimed in.

Wendy was skeptical about Minerva. All week, she had voiced her distrust, convinced Minerva was just waiting for the right moment to pounce on me, as if I were a naive teenage girl and Minerva some male predator.

"Girls can prey on guys too, you know," she warned. "It happens more than you think."

"I doubt that'll happen at a high school dance," I countered. "Not with hundreds of witnesses around."

"What if she tries to take you back to a motel or something, and your hormones get the better of you?"

"Wendy, relax! Stop acting like you know everything."

"I know a lot more than you."

"Just because you watch the news doesn't mean you're an expert. Half that stuff is bull shit."

I suspected Wendy was just jealous. She had been the only girl in my life, and now she feared Minerva might take her place, even though this was just a casual date—nothing more.

"You show that girl a good time, son," Dad said.

"But remember to be a gentleman, dear," Mom advised.

"And be wary of how she behaves," Wendy added.

"I will, I will, I will," I assured them.

I arrived at the dance around six, and Minerva showed up about fifteen minutes later. When I saw her, my jaw nearly dropped. She looked stunning—tall, with the body of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, and black hair that was, as many girls would say, perfection. Even the spacing between her eyes and eyebrows seemed sculpted. She wore a black dress that looked like a designer evening gown worthy of the red carpet. Was this really the same girl?

"Minerva?" I called out, still in disbelief.

"Hello, Natsu," she greeted.

"Wow, you look amazing."

"Thank you," she replied. "Yes, I am beautiful art, am I not? Perfect."

"Sure."

It was funny; now she sounded almost as vain as Lucy.

"I brought you a corsage," I said, presenting the hibiscus to her. Suddenly, her face turned as pale as paper, and she jumped back.

"Get it out of my sight!" she screamed. "Hurry!"

"What's wrong?"

"I can't stand to be near those flowers! I'm... I'm allergic to them!"

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!"

"Just get rid of it!"

I quickly ran off to find a place to leave the flower—perhaps in the grass or buried in the ground. Mom believed plants should return to the earth, not be tossed in the trash. I had just found a bush when I spotted Lucy and her date, Loke, arguing in front of the limo they had arrived in.

Lucy looked fantastic, as expected, in one of her father's one-of-a-kind, specially designed party dresses—pink and sparkly, accentuating her hips. But I barely noticed her beauty; I had never seen her so angry.

"What's the big deal?" Loke said. "It's not like we were a real couple."

"The big deal is that you got caught cheating on camera! Do you know how this will make me look?!"

"Don't you mean how it'll make your dad look?"

"You shut up about him!"

"Why don't you just admit that everything you do is just to please Daddy because he's been ignoring you since your mom died?"

I watched as she slapped him, then ripped off the orchid corsage she wore and threw it in his face before running off. I followed her, probably against my better judgment, but Loke didn't seem inclined to apologize or comfort her.

"Go away, Loke!" she screamed, her voice thick with emotion.

"It's not Loke," I said.

She stopped in her tracks, quickly composing herself, swallowing any sobs that threatened to escape. Then she turned to me, putting on her usual "pretty princess" facade.

"Oh, you're that guy from the shoe store," she said.

"Yeah, I saw what happened. Are you okay?"

"It's nothing. He just got a little mouthy, that's all."

I knew that wasn't true but went along with it anyway.

"Are you going back to the dance?"

"Of course," she replied. "I'm going to be crowned spring princess after all. I just need a minute to breathe."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that case, a princess needs a corsage. Since my date has an allergy to this flower, do you want it?"

She glanced at the red hibiscus in the box, her expression skeptical. She probably thought it looked cheap, but she took it anyway.

"Thanks."

I figured she was just being polite, though she didn't bother to ask for my name. Instead, she walked back to the dance without another word.

That's when I spotted Minerva, looking at me with a gaze that sent chills down my spine. It was the same look that made me feel something was very wrong.

"What were you doing with her?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I replied. "She seemed upset, and I wanted to check on her."

"You gave her my corsage."

"So what? You were allergic."

"But you gave it to her! You should have just thrown it in the trash!"

Tension crackled in the air as Minerva's voice rose, a mix of anger and jealousy. I didn't understand why she was so upset about me giving the corsage away; it wasn't like I had planned to do it.

"Look, I'm sorry!" I said, striving to keep my voice calm. "I didn't know you were allergic, and I didn't want to just throw it away. It's a beautiful flower, and it seemed like a nice gesture to give it to someone who might appreciate it."

"Yeah, well it was supposed to be for me!" Minerva snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her black dress. "You should have thought about that before you went off giving it away to someone else!"

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you wanted to have a nice time tonight. That's what we're here for, right?"

Her expression softened for a moment, and I thought I saw a flicker of uncertainty. "I just... I didn't think you'd care about someone like her. She's so... popular."

"Popular or not, she was upset. I couldn't just ignore that," I replied, feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

Minerva looked away, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. "Whatever. Just forget it."

I took a deep breath, trying to find a way to salvage the night. "Can we just start over? We're at a dance; let's enjoy it. I want to have fun with you."

She hesitated, her body language still tense, but I could see a flicker of indecision in her eyes. "Fine," she finally said, though her tone was less than enthusiastic. "But don't think this means I'm okay with what you did."

"Understood," I replied, forcing a smile as we walked back toward the dance floor. The music pulsed through the air, and the laughter and chatter of students filled the room. I wanted to shake off the awkwardness and enjoy the moment, but Minerva's earlier outburst lingered in the back of my mind.