hand, he snatched it from me, and asked, “What is this?”
Taking it back, I glared. “I have no idea since you ripped it out of my hands.”
“Go on then. Open it,” he ordered.
Inside the crimson envelope, I found a card with Santa Claus on the front.
Between the covers, there was a silver charm bracelet with a heart. The engraving read: “Please Return to Tiffany & Co, New York 925”.
“Who’s it from? No one has ever bought me a present from Tiffany’s,”
Thomas gasped.
“I don’t know,” I said, handing it to him.
“Ooohh, “You’re on my nice list,” Thomas mocked reading the card aloud.
“Isn’t he creative?”
“It is sweet,” I said, taking it back. “Now, shut up and help me put on the bracelet.”
I wore the bracelet every day even though I never found out who gave it to
me. Thomas and I speculated on who it could’ve been, but we never found the
mystery man. It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day arrived that I received anything further, compounding the mystery.
The day had been a cupid-filled hell. Love was alive, and the dreaded flower
distribution came and went, without one having my name on it. I wasn’t dating
anyone, so I don’t know what I expected. When I arrived at my locker, I found a
square envelope pushed almost all the way through. Inside was a compact disc
with the words ‘ How I feel about you’ written in sharpie.
I looked around to see if anyone was watching me. The hallways were
empty, except for an elderly janitor. There was no way he was my secret admirer.
He was so focused on scraping gum off the ground that I doubted he would pay
any attention to a student at a locker.
I waited until I was home before I listened to the disc. The songs ranged from pop crush songs to dedications of love. The next day, I gave it to Thomas,
in hopes he could decipher the clue that had to be hidden in the playlist. Once again, we hit a dead end.
With my secret admirer unknown, I became more interactive with those
around me. This new attitude released the silenced suitors, and I was being asked out again. I accepted every date, hoping to find out who had given me the gifts.
Every weekend, I went on one or two dates, but no one even hinted they were interested in me. Growing tired of trying to figure it out, I gave up on solving the mystery and just enjoyed the final months of my senior year of high
school.
In April, Senior Prom fever began, and I became swept up in it. Thomas and
I agreed to go with another friend, Beatrice, and forego waiting to be asked.
However, our plan was canceled with a single red rose.
Six
At the end of class, two weeks before prom, I arrived at my locker to
find a red rose taped to the door. When I turned to see if anyone was
watching, Christopher Ross appeared. He was holding a sign that
simply read: PROM?
“Sorry for the late invite,” he stepped forward and removed the rose, holding
it out, and asked, “What do you think?”
“I… uh… I mean,” I stuttered.
