Hi :) So, I know you all have wondered: What would have happened if Gaea had never possesed Hazel's mother, they had never died, etc... Well, wonder no more!

Note: This is really more of an intro chapter... I'm gonna get more into the HazelxSammy stuff later ;)

Hazel Levesque never really thought about how much money she had, or how much money she didn't have.

Until today. Today, the day she had asked her mother for a new dress. Today, the day her mother had told her that the fortune telling wasn't so popular in the autumn. That she couldn't afford a new dress for Hazel.

She had begged her mother, begged until she had tears in her eyes, pulling on the hem of her mother's own dress. She needed this dress. She couldn't live without it.

"What do you need a dress for, anyway?" Her mother scoffed, shaking Hazel of her. A thirteen year old shouldn't be on the floor, crying to her mother. But Hazel was desperate. "The ones you have are fine."

"Mother?" Hazel sniffed. She didn't want to tell her mother that the reason she wanted the dress was for her date with Sammy. Her mother would give her the, if-a-boy-really-likes-you-they-won't-care-what-you're-wearing lecture; that was the last thing Hazel wanted right now. Besides, she never really spoke to her mother about Sammy.

"What, Hazel?" her mother asked impatiently, tapping her worn-out high-heels on floor. It made a click-click noise on the tile.

"Have you ever wished we weren't so poor?" Hazel put on her puppy-dog face. Her mother hated this conversation.

But today, she glanced above her head wistfully, as watching a bird fly past her through the evening sky. Except, they were inside.

"Of course I have wished," she said. "But, some things just aren't worth it, honey." She turned away, but looked over her shoulder and said, "If he really likes you—"

"Uggh!" It looked like Hazel was going to get that speech anyway. She stormed past her mother and up the stairs. When she got to the top of the stairs, she hung a left and slammed the door to her room. The door frame creaked, and Hazel cursed.

"Why!" She wailed. Why did they have to be so poor? Did her father, Pluto, ever listen to her prayers? Did he even know how little money they had, or how they struggled to make ends meet?

But the weirdest part was that Hazel's mother almost never seemed to care. She rarely complained about how threadbare their furniture was, or their limited wardrobes were. She seemed unaffected by their condition, even happy about it.

"Father," Hazel whispered into her pillow. She had never seen her mother pray to the gods, so she wasn't sure how to do it. Maybe her father just wasn't listening. She continued anyway. "Please, if you are the god of all the riches below the earth, couldn't you help us? Please?"

There was no answer, as usual. Hazel wasn't sure what she expected. Money to fall from the sky? The dress she had been eying at the boutique to appear before her. None of the above happened, so Hazel buried her face in her pillow once again.

A cold breeze seeped into the room. Hazel, thinking her window was letting in the draft, turned.

A man, tall, and shrouded in shadow stood in the center of the room. He wore a fancy coat, and two-tone leather shoes; the type of outfit Hazel could afford in her wildest dreams.

"Hello, my daughter," the man said. His voice was deep and sultry.

"Y-you're my father?" Hazel stammered.

"Yes, Hazel Levesque," he confirmed. She found it strange that he would address her by her full name… Her mother certainly didn't call her Hazel … Levesque, but she charged on anyway.

"Have you come here to answer my prayer?" Hazel asked. "I have grown tired of being poor."

Pluto chuckled, and his laugh echoed a thousand souls. I sent shivers down Hazel's back.

"Are you going to or not?" she snapped. She didn't enjoy anyone who came round just to laugh at her tattered clothes or ramshackle home. In fact, she loathed anyone who did that.

"Just like your mother," Pluto said softly. "Why, she asked me the very same question; she too has become tired of being deprived, underprivileged, destitute, if you will."

Only Hazel wouldn't. "Please, Lord Pluto, Father," she pleaded. "I would give anything for a life of luxury."

"Once again, so much like your mother." He shook his head sadly. "Your mother uttered the same words the when I appeared before her."

"Then why aren't we rich?" Hazel cried. All she wanted was a new dress to impress Sammy, maybe get a compliment or two. Was that too much to ask?

"Hazel, darling. Anything is just too broad a term." He waved his hand, and an image of her mother appeared. "Would you give anything now?" Hazel bowed her head, but Pluto wasn't done. He waved his hand and an image of Sammy materialized. Hazel was so embarrassed that she wanted to shoo it away with her hand, but she didn't dare. "How about now?"

"Alright, alright!" she said. "Not anything! Not anything!"

"This is why you are not rolling in wealth as we speak, child," Pluto said. "But I will make my offer one last time: Will you give anything?"

Hazel shook her head, ashamed. There was nothing in the world that would make her give up her mother or Sammy.

"May we meet again, my daughter." Pluto began to melt into the shadows.

"Wait, wait!" Hazel gasped. "How am I supposed to-?" But he was gone, and she still didn't have a new dress.

"Oh, Hazel!" Her mother burst into her room and enveloped her in a hug. "Darlin', I'd do anything for you," she whispered into her shoulder.

"Anything?" Hazel asked.

"A thousand times over," her mother promised.

"Even get me a new dress?" she asked.

"If I could, I would, honey." Hazel pulled away from her mother. She smelled like the candles she burned when she was Queen Marie, the fortune teller, a smell Hazel had never liked.

"Then don't say anything." She walked past her mother. She wanted to go outside to see if any of her friends wanted to play, or better yet, Sammy.

"Hazel…" her mother began feebly, but Hazel was already out the door.

"…And that's why I don't have something nice to wear today, Sammy," Hazel lamented. It was the next day, and she and Sammy were sitting on at a table in one of the best gumbo restaurants in all of New Orleans. Grubby, boxy Fords chugged past them. Hazel had never really liked the way cars looked. She much preferred walking. Besides, her mother would never be able to pay for a car.

Sammy smiled over his drink, and Hazel's heart fluttered. She loved it when he smiled at her.

"You look swell, Hazel," he said honestly.

She blushed despite herself. She hated looking so obvious in front of Sammy, but she couldn't it; she really, really liked him.

"But I've worn this a million times," she replied ruefully, glancing down at her jumper and Mary-Janes. "I wanted to look pretty for our date."

Sammy leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Well, you did a great job, then."

Hazel was coming undone. "Serious?" She asked.

"You bet," said Sammy. "You know, I really like you, Hazel."

She batted her eyelashes. "I really like you, too."

For once, Sammy looked as nervous as she did. "Would ya… do you…?"

"I'd love to go steady, Sammy," Hazel finished for him.

He relaxed. "Great!" He said, running a nervous hand through his dirty-blonde hair. "I've gotta go." He stood and kissed Hazel on the cheek again. "By the way, you really do look super fantastic today."

Hazel stared into space, trying to remember her name.

Yeah, well, I decided to change the way Sammy looks because I'm not really down with the whole Leo-is-Sammy thing... I hope to have a new chapter up by the end of the week :)

Thank you for reading and please review! :)