Secret Valentine

I’d known David since the aforementioned incident during the second grade. His mother was our chaperone and I was too nervous and intimidated by her to tell her that I wasn’t feeling well. It was something about the school bus we were traveling on that set off my anxiety; my mother prohibited me from taking the bus to school because I didn’t like being around so many people at once. I guess she figured the class trip would do me some good but she was obviously wrong. To this day I can’t remember where we went, only that I wound up vomiting in my Captain Planet lunchbox because I didn’t want anyone to see me. I spent the rest of the day a hungry, nervous wreck.

David, being the kind of boy he is, offered me half of his sandwich, saying he saw me puking and felt bad that I didn’t have anything to eat. He began babbling about how his father had recently come down with the flu and he really hoped it wasn’t his fault that I was sick because he’d feel really badly if that were to be the case. From that moment on, I thought David was really weird, which in itself was weird because it was usually the other way around.

I’d only had one friend until that day. Her name was Brent Smith and she was the polar opposite of me. She’d introduced herself on the first day of the first grade, saying that she already knew she had a boys name but it didn’t bother her. She followed her introduction by telling me that her parents had been told they were going to have a boy and then she came out and they were so flustered that they named her Brent anyway. I never cared much for her story because I, too, had a boy’s name but didn’t have a legitimate reason for it like she did. However, I did find Brent quite fascinating, even at such a young and naive age, and we became inseparable from that moment on.

The only time Brent and I spent time apart was when she decided my brother, Ross, was more interesting than I was. (That was a three week stint during the summer before the third grade.) Ross and I were supposedly twins but there was no evidence to prove such a thing. We surely weren’t identical twins because we looked nothing alike. Ross was a typical man whore with his shaggy dirty blond hair and green-tinted eyes. He stood at a confident six-foot-three and, when he wasn’t busy begging for picture comments on his MySpace profile, spent his days playing soccer which provided him with a nice figure. And then there was me, the incredibly average, boring-looking Rowan Lucille Blake, with my strawberry-blonde hair and brown eyes.

There was a time during the sixth grade when I towered over my brother. While he was stuck at a pathetic five-foot-four, I’d experienced a growth spurt and easily had three inches on him. I hadn’t grown since and it seemed as if I was doomed to be five-foot-seven forever. At the time it made me utterly miserable. I stuck out like a sore thumb, like always, because I was the tallest girl in the entire school, including the eighth graders who scared the shit out of me anyway. The only person who still didn’t think I was some sort of alien was David.

When Brent ditched me in the eleventh grade to hang out with her new boyfriend (some pompous douchebag by the name of Kyle Sanders who’d managed to sweep her off her feet by flashing her a vibrant smile and inviting her to the movies), David and I had no choice but to become better friends than we’d been previously. Brent and David were attached at the hip when I’d managed to unglue myself from her long enough to give him a turn. Needless to say, every guy in our high school was jealous of David. Brent had grown up quickly and put my own assets to shame even though I’d gone through my growth spurt and had had better assets for almost four years.

Brent never used her looks to her advantage. She was quite humble and down to earth which was what made her so easy to get along with. She had heaps of friends but I took pleasure in knowing I was the only one she considered her best friend. However, that title didn’t last long as soon as Kyle came into the picture. David had scolded me on many occasions for being the cliche jealous best friend but I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re overreacting, Ro,” David laughed as we passed the happy couple in the hallway. She didn’t even greet us because she was too engrossed in swapping spit with King Douche.

“I am not,” I defended myself with a frown. “I’ve been friends with her for ten years. He’s only known her for two weeks and he’s already taking my place.”

“You know how Brent is with guys. Kyle will be gone in a few weeks.”

As I soon found would typically be the case, David was wrong. Kyle had swooped in and replaced me so quickly I didn’t know what to do with myself and he managed to hold that position much longer than anyone expected. On David’s behalf, he was right about one thing: Brent did not have the best track record when it came to relationships. Kyle was the fifth boyfriend she’d gone through by February.

“And you know what makes it worse? Valentine’s Day is in a week. A week! She knows we spend it together every single year and she told me she’d be too busy to hang out with me because Kyle was taking her out!”

“So find someone else to hang out with,” David suggested with a shrug. He was obviously not as shaken up about Brent’s detachment from us as I was. But, then again, David was not as socially inept as I was and had a plethora of friends other than Brent. The two of them were my only friends (if I could even consider David a friend and not someone who merely hung out with me because I was a clear-cut charity case) and I simply did not know what to do with myself now that one-third of the group had gone missing.

“You say that like I’m not the most socially awkward person you know.”

“Good point,” David agreed. “You don’t even have a MySpace.”

“David!” I shrieked. “Do you know who lurks on the internet? Creepers, that’s who. People who would want to find out my address and phone number, show up at my house in the middle of the night, break in, steal all of our family heirlooms, rape me, and then take my goldfish just to make a point. The internet isn’t safe,” I huffed. David was gawking at me, obviously in shock, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I was going to put you on my Top 8 but now I’m not so sure that’s such a great idea.”

I sighed and stopped at David’s locker, which we had agreed to share after I found out Christina Parker had the one next to me. Christina was easily the most popular girl in school and had a sheer hate for me after my brother dumped her in order to date her ex-best friend, Lorraine Browne. Lorraine was a nice girl and I was much happier that she was my brother’s girlfriend, though I couldn’t wrap my mind around why someone would want to date him. He was made of one-hundred percent pure evil.

“Well, just so you know, I sleep better at night knowing I don’t have fifty-year-old bald men touching themselves while looking at my pictures.”

“Right, because they’re the only the only people who would ever beat off to your pictures,” I heard from behind me, and an instant glare formed on my face when my brother’s figure appeared to my right. Due to our last names being so close, my brother’s locker was next to the one I shared with David.

“Seeing as we’re twins, you’re basically insulting yourself.”

“Seeing as you’re really, really lame with your comebacks, I’m not even going to waste my time insulting you,” he laughed but was instantly quieted when Lorraine slapped him on the arm and told him to be nice to me because I was his sister. “We’re not related. I swear she was adopted or something.”

“Go screw yourself, Ross,” I spat as I shoved my textbooks into the locker angrily.

It was the seventh of February and it felt like an east coast summer as soon as I stepped out of the confines of the high school and made my way toward the parking lot. David, who was older than me by eight months, offered to drive me to and from school at Brent’s insistence. He didn’t drive the nicest car I’d ever been in (my oldest brother, Remi, held that title) but it was an escape from the hell that was known as the school bus so I sucked it up and thanked him every time I stepped foot in his car.

“Do we really have to listen to this again?” I whined over-dramatically as soon as I heard the familiar sounds of David’s favorite mixed CD.

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to ride in my car,” he retorted with a smirk.

“It isn’t the same without Brent anyway.”

David rolled his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking. “Why don’t you just hang out with me on Valentine’s Day? That way neither one of us is lonely and you don’t have to post bulletins on MySpace asking for a date.”

I pondered his offer for a few seconds before agreeing. Hanging out with David, one on one, was always a lot less awkward than I initially thought it would be. Most of the time I couldn’t hang out with a boy without acting like a complete freak of nature. I would babble about the strangest things, fidget with anything I could get my hands on for far too long, and make everyone in the room completely awkward. But David was different. He didn’t care about my inability to make friends other than him and Brent and he didn’t care if I didn’t have a MySpace account because he’d already seen me vomit in my lunchbox. There was nothing more embarrassing than that.

“Well, Brent and I always sleep over my house, in my basement, and watch movies. My mom makes us pizza and chocolate cupcakes with pink icing and then we eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and fall asleep with our hands in the popcorn bowl.”

David looked perplexed. “But... you’re skinny.”

“Well, yeah, so is Brent. It isn’t like we do that every weekend, only on Valentine’s Day.”

“I guess,” David answered with a shrug. It was more than obvious he’d bitten off way more than he could chew but, for my sake, wasn’t going to back out. “Is your mom cool with me sleeping over or should I tell her I’m gay?”

“She isn’t going to care, although I suppose I should ask her anyway. God only knows she’ll probably die of shock. I’ve never even had a boy over.”

“Are you kidding?” David looked over at me, his mouth hanging open like its hinge was broken. “You’ve never had a boy over your house?”

“I have four brothers, David! It’s not like I really need boy friends.”

Instead of debating his opinion further, David let the conversation go without another word. In the many times that I’d counted, I found that I lived exactly thirteen minutes away from the school, not counting red lights. With the way David drove it was a wonder we even made it to and from our destination alive, but, as I’ve said before, it was much better than taking the bus.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” David asked, as he did every Friday afternoon, as he stopped in my driveway.

“Sure,” I replied. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see me. I’d rather walk on a bed of nails and a mile of fiery coals than take the bus and he knew that.

“Hey,” David called after me and I poked my head in through the passenger side window, “try not to be too bummed about this whole Brent thing, okay?”

“Sure, David.” I smiled at him because I didn’t know what else to do. He was the only boy who’d ever taken a real interest in me instead of deciding that I was too weird to befriend right off the bat and leaving me there to sink. When it came to social situations I couldn’t swim and there were only two people who knew that. David seemed to be the more compassionate one because he hadn’t ditched me yet.

As soon as I entered my house, my youngest brother attached himself to my leg. Roscoe was easily my favorite sibling and never failed to put a smile on my face. Granted, he was only four years old, but he was by far the coolest of all my brothers. At times I was even envious of Roscoe because he was the epitome of a perfect child. There were visible flaws in all of the Blake children, but, even at four, everyone knew Roscoe was going to grow up and be perfect. Sure, he might get picked on for having a weird name for the next few years, but throughout high school and college it would be what made him stand out.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked him as he untangled himself from my legs.

“Kitchen,” he replied. He trotted in front of me, leading the way, and all I could do was follow. Roscoe had a mind of his own.

“Hello, honey,” my mom greeted with a large smile on her face. For once it was void of stress because Roscoe never gave her any. He was so perfect I began to wonder if he’d been hatched.

“Hi, Mom. Is it okay if I swap Brent for someone else on Valentine’s Day?”

“Who do you have in mind?” She asked slowly, obviously shocked that I’d made another friend.

“David.”

“The one who picks you up for school?” I nodded. “I don’t know if your father will be so keen on that idea, Ro.”

“Mom, I don’t think you understand! Brent totally ditched us for this new boyfriend of hers -- I think his name is Kyle or something, but I call him King Douche -- and she blew me off to hang out with him. So then David, being the gentlemanly friend he is, offered to hang out with me so I wouldn’t be lonely. I mean, come on! You know how awful I am with making friends. Besides, he even said he’d tell you he was gay if it would get you to let him stay over.”

“Rowan-”

“You should let him stay, Mommy,” Roscoe butt in and I high-fived him.

“Roscoe-”

“Hey, mom!” Ross shouted as he entered the kitchen. Like the typical fat ass he was he went straight to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. “I’m going to stay at Lorraine’s for Valentine’s Day, okay? Her parents are totally cool with it.”

“See, Mom?” I whined.

“Ross, you can’t go just because her parents said it was okay. You have to make sure it’s okay with your father and I first.”

“Okay, and I’m telling you now,” Ross said slowly.

“You two are only seventeen. That isn’t old enough to be having co-ed sleepovers.”

“What do you mean ‘you two’?” Ross asked. “Ro can’t possibly be having a guy sleep over.”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what Mom and I were discussing before you so rudely interrupted-”

“But Ro doesn’t have friends.”

“Ross!” My mom scolded. For added effect, Roscoe kicked him in the shin and ran away, cackling loudly. I smirked as Ross winced in pain. “Good, you deserved that.”

“Whatever, Mom. Can I go or not?”

With a defeated sigh, my mother obliged. “But I swear to God, if a pregnancy comes out of either situation, it’ll be the last thing that ever happens to you both-”

“Okay, Mom, we get it!” I cut her off before her speech got too dramatic.

“Yeah, Ma, honestly. You act like someone would actually want to sleep with Rowan.”

I shook my head and retreated to my bedroom: the only place I could ever get peace and quiet. It wasn’t much, and because our family was so large, it wasn’t very big. I didn’t complain because I was the only one who got a room of their own. The boys all had to share, but Ross got Remi’s room when he left for college, which was the biggest. Most of the time I didn’t mind having four brothers. It was like having four best friends that I hated most of the time (sans Roscoe) because they were each so different and didn’t act a bit alike. Remi was the oldest and was born three years before Ross and I. Reagan was younger than us by two and a half years and was supposed to be the last until Roscoe happened, which I was very happy for.

“Can I come in, Ro?” I heard Roscoe ask from the other side of the door. I told him yes, and smiled as his small frame peeked in through a sliver in the door to make sure it was safe.

“What’s up, little man?”

“I have a question,” he replied as he climbed onto my bed and sat in the middle, staring at me with his big, brown eyes. I nodded, “Who’s David?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“No, Rosc, just a friend,” I laughed.

“Is he a nice friend?”

“Of course. He’s the nicest person I know.”

Roscoe smirked at my answer which surprised me. I’d never met a four-year-old that smirked, let alone a four-year-old who inquired about his only sister’s love life. “I think you like David,” he teased.

“I do not.”

“Rowan has a crush!” Roscoe sang as he began jumping up and down on my bed. “Rowan has a crush on her boyfriend David!”

“Rowan has a boyfriend?” Reagan asked as he entered the room.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Roscoe thinks I do just because I have a guy friend.”

“Since when do you have guy friends? Actually, since when do you have friends?”

“Hey, be nice to her! I’m her friend,” Roscoe scolded. He sat in my lap and wrapped his tiny arms around me. Reagan shook his head and walked out of the room. “We win,” Roscoe smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.

I smiled in return but couldn’t shake the four-year-old’s words. Did I like David as more than a friend? If so, how awkward and horrible would it be for the both of us if I were to tell him that? Surely he was good looking; everyone with two eyes knew that. He obviously accepted me as I was and had never tried to change me. He’d make the occasional “you’re weird” remark but being weird wasn’t some new, abstract concept in my world.

I came to the conclusion that I’d been harboring a secret crush on my best friend since the day of our school trip in the second grade. All because of the innocent wisdom of a four-year-old named Roscoe Blake.

---

Ever since discovering my first -- and only, for that matter -- crush, it became somewhat of a plague. I couldn’t stop thinking about David no matter what I did. Over the weekend, with no one else to talk to because Brent so lovingly ditched me for King Douche, I confided in Roscoe that I did, in fact, have a crush on David. He was too young to know the extent of my crush and I was happy about that. Liking someone for nine years without ever having told them was creepy. David being my best friend just made everything worse; luckily, Roscoe didn’t know anything about best friends because he dubbed me his ‘favorite person’ which, in the language of young children, probably meant I was his best friend but who actually knew?

Roscoe came up with the idea of sending David a Valentine’s card, like he did with his preschool class. He told me to put a heart sticker on the envelope so he would know I liked him the most. It seemed innocent enough because I wouldn’t have to sign anything. I could do it anonymously -- sort of like a secret admirer. It was juvenile, yes, but it saved me the anxiety and embarrassment of telling a crush that I actually liked them. It also saved David the embarrassment of having me like him, which seemed much more important.

When the following Friday (otherwise known as Valentine’s Day) finally rolled around, I dug the little card out of my bag and placed it in our locker. David wouldn’t find it until the end of the day because he wasn’t so into school that he carried his books around and continually swapped them. He simply carried a five-subject notebook and a pen; he was the epitome of simplicity.

When the clock struck 2:15 and the final bell rang, signaling our freedom, I rushed from my classroom to meet David. I knew he wouldn’t have left me there if I’d been a few minutes late but I was already so nervous about him finding my card that I nearly regurgitated my lunch all over the cafeteria floor.

“Look what I got!” David squealed as soon as I neared our locker.

“What is it?” I asked stupidly once he handed me the card that I’d become painfully familiar with.

“It’s a Valentine’s card from my secret admirer.”

“I know that, but who’s it from?”

David stared at me blankly. “I just said it was from my secret admirer.”

“Oh, right. Well, who do you think it’s from?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Could be anyone.”

“You don’t think that’s creepy?” I was nervous about his answer but, for my own peace of mind, I needed to know.

“Not at all,” he smiled. “It’s actually really sweet. Wish I knew who it was from though. Oh well. Are you ready to go?” I nodded. “Well, I figured we’d swing by my house first so I can get some clothes and such for this shindig tonight and then we can go to your house.”

My face flushed of all color; I’d completely forgot that David was spending the night at my house. I’d gotten so used to the idea of spending the day with Brent that my plans with David slipped my mind. “R-right, yeah, sounds like a great idea.”

As we got into David’s car, I noticed he finally changed the CD that’d I’d grown accustomed to hearing since the first day he got his license. The sounds of a band I’d never heard before filled the car and I raised my eyebrows at the change. “Who’s this?”

“This band from Seattle.”

“And does ‘this band from Seattle’ have a name? Usually that’s the response one would get when inquiring such things.”

David laughed, “This Providence. They need a bassist so they asked me to join once I’m finished school.”

“That’s awe- WHAT?”

“I, uh-”

“You’re leaving too?”

“Well, yeah, I was planning on it-”

“What the crap am I supposed to do without my two best friends?”

David was quiet for a few moments. “We’ll still be best friends, Ro. Just because I won’t be here doesn’t mean anything.”

“You say that now, but just wait until you’re some famous rockstar. You’ll forget all about poor, awkward, weird Rowan and you’ll exchange me for some blonde, leggy supermodel-” David rolled his eyes and scoffed at me. “Don’t give me that look, David, you know it’s true. Anyway, as I was saying, you’ll forget all about Phoenix and its awful weather and exchange us for Seattle and rain. But I guess it might be a good thing because you’ll get real Seattle’s Best-”

“Rowan!” David shouted, interrupting me, “Will you stop talking for two seconds and let me get a word in?” I nodded, stunned. “I’m not going to forget about you, I promise. You’re the weirdest person I know and, to this day, the only person I’ve ever seen throw up in a lunchbox. Trust me, you’re kind of hard to forget.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to remember me just because I’m weird,” I challenged. I’d accumulated an air of confidence all of a sudden and I was bursting at the seams to use it.

He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment and looked at me with raised eyebrows. I knew we were only minutes from his house and the situation had the potential to get awkward (which was a given when I was around) but for once, I didn’t care. “Maybe I want you to remember me as the girl who was too chicken shit to sign her name at the bottom of your Valentine’s card.” By some happening of fate, a red light appeared, forcing David to temporarily stop the car. “Which is cliche, I know, because honestly, who seriously falls in love with their best friend and doesn’t tell them for nine years?” I stopped talking then because I knew I’d said too much.

With a cheeky grin and a sudden burst of his own confidence, David pressed his lips to mine and pulled away slowly, his blue eyes boring into my brown ones.

“I do.”