HANNAH HAS A DATE

I took out my Chemistry textbook from my locker and placed it in my bag. Just as I was doing that, Hannah's sudden presence startled me. She was dressed in a blue sweatshirt, her hands covered, and blue joggers on her legs. Her familiar dark brown hair flowed down her shoulders, and she had a beaming smile on her face as if she'd just won the lottery. Standing there, she looked almost like a soldier in front of a superior officer.

"You seem happy," I began. "What's going on?"

"Guess what?" Hannah asked eagerly.

I sighed, slamming my locker shut, and gave her a tired look. "Let me guess, you finished another book on supernatural creatures?"

"No!" She remarked, folding her hands.

"Well, that's part of it, but not the whole story."

"Then what is it?"

"Jeremy just asked me to be his date for the school dance," she said with a wink.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm thrilled!" Hannah raised her hands in joy.

"So, what did you say?"

"'I spotted a werewolf on my way to school,'" she slapped her face with her right hand. "Dumbass! I said 'yes.'"

"That's fantastic!" I clapped, lightly. "We need to celebrate!"

"Celebrate? I don't have any money."

I sighed in frustration and replied, "Let's just get to class. We can figure everything out later."

"Babe, I don't even know what to wear."

I took her hand and tugged her toward the classroom. "We'll figure it out together," I assured her.

Hannah had never had a date to the school dance as far back as I could remember. Her difficulty in connecting with people made it challenging for guys to approach her. Consequently, she often stayed home, studying and watching videos of those who attended the school dance.

My mother's passing made attending the school dance difficult for me. Before her death, she would encourage me to accept invitations from boys at school. I never really fancied the idea, partly because my best friend, Hannah, was never interested, and partly because I wasn't particularly fond of any of the boys. But I felt compelled to go to make my mother happy.

Hannah and I found our seats in the classroom, and a few minutes later, Mrs. Dean walked in. She looked quite different today. She wore a knee-length blue gown with short sleeves, and black loafers on her feet, and had dyed her blonde hair black, leaving a ponytail. Her wrist sported a black digital watch, and she wore a silver necklace with a cross pendant. Her diamonds were sparkling, and I could tell she seemed troubled.

"Good morning, everyone," Mrs. Dean greeted.

"Good morning, ma'am," the entire class responded.

She rested her hands on the table, let out a sigh, and looked up. "I've been teaching for the past twenty-five years, sharing my knowledge of Chemistry with students. I've witnessed many of my students achieve things I could only dream of. I've seen them grow from teenagers into successful men and women in the field of science. It's safe to say I've done a good job. Unfortunately, my journey as a teacher has come to an end. Today marks my last day in this school, and I want it to be memorable." A tear trickled down her cheek, which she wiped away with her left hand. She continued, "My husband and I have decided to dedicate ourselves full-time to our farming business and perhaps travel the world later. I truly love each one of you, and I wish you all the best in your journeys."

"We love you too, Mrs. Dean," the whole class replied, visibly moved.

Mrs. Dean tilted her head slightly, sighed again, and began her lecture.

Mrs. Dean was one of the most senior teachers at Westify High, having taught there since I was in fifth grade. Her lectures were a roller coaster of emotions, with some being boring and others captivating. She always made an effort to ensure every student left her class with something valuable.

Mrs. Dean wasn't just a teacher; she was also a counselor. Students trusted her with their problems because she never judged anyone and provided advice with empathy.

I felt both sad about her leaving Westify High and relieved that she was embarking on a less stressful journey.

I glanced over at Henry, who sat at the back of the class, his face seeming to say, "I told you so." I couldn't help but wonder how he had learned the news while the rest of us were clueless. Even the gossip girls were in the dark. "This kid is so mysterious," I thought to myself.

I bumped into Henry in the cafeteria later. As usual, his meal could feed an entire army. On his tray, he had two untouched tacos, a bottle of milk, and one taco in his hand. From a distance, I noticed he was dressed quite differently. He had on a green shirt paired with black trousers and black shoes. It seemed like he had taken some fashion advice from a YouTube video.

I placed my tray on the table, which had a hamburger and a soda. Taking my seat, I noticed that Henry didn't seem surprised; it was as if he knew I was coming.

"Someone's looking different today," I commented. "What happened? Did your uncle give you a fashion makeover?"

"Good afternoon, since you're not greeting me," Henry said. "No, I just randomly picked this outfit from my wardrobe."

"Like you always do," I chuckled as I started on my lunch.

"I'm a busy man; I don't have time to fuss over what to wear, so I just grab whatever."

"Oh, my mistake. I didn't realize you had seven hundred companies to run."

"Where's Hannah?"

"Probably jumping for joy. She's got a date for the school dance."

"Who would be happy about that?"

"Someone who's never had a date before."

"Geez, you two lived such exciting lives," Henry quipped, slightly rolling his eyes. "Want to be my date for the school dance?"

"Stop teasing me, kid," I said as I opened my soda.

"I'm serious."

"Just like that? Aren't you supposed to make a romantic gesture or something?"

Henry sighed and replied, "I don't have time for that."

"So, you not only lack fashion sense but also romance."

"Will you be my date, princess?"

I sighed and responded, "Maybe."

"Great! Now, I need to finish off these tacos."

Henry was undeniably a unique character. While others were popping champagne and giving extravagant gifts to ask girls to the dance, he simply popped the question with a taco in hand. "Who raised this boy? There must be something odd about his stars," I mused.