We decide to eat lunch, and my stomach instantly fills with dread. I see others at the picnic tables. Naturally, my stomach growls like an internal clock set to eat when food is around. I curse my mother for being so selfish in not providing me with the basics. Is it too much to ask for a freakin’ sandwich?
Shay points out an empty picnic table. I really don’t want to take food away from her, even though she offered. Running my fingers through my hair, I sit across from her. She reaches into her paper bag, takes out a napkin, and spreads it out onto the table. Then she pulls out a baggie of sliced apples, a baggie of carrots, and a yogurt. She reaches into the bag one last time, bringing out a baggie with a sandwich inside it. It’s such a simple thing, but it completely warms my heart. It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But, it’s not just any peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s one that has been cut into the shape of a heart. If that weren’t special enough, Shay breaks it in half and says with a smile, “Here, you can have the other half of my heart.”
I return her bright smile as she takes a big bite of her half of the sandwich. If I hadn’t already known, I realize in this moment that my heart belongs to her. There is no question. Shay is the girl I want to spend my life looking at.
Two years later…
“I DON’T EVEN need to guide your fingers anymore.” I glance over at Shay, and she smiles. “Seriously, it didn’t take long for you to learn, Jace.” I love the way she says my name. Shay’s voice sounds like a love song with every word she speaks. Soft, sweet, and always meaningful.
“Maybe you’re just a really good teacher,” I tell her with a sly smile. She giggles, and as usual, my stomach flip-flops.
Two years later, and she just keeps getting prettier. I scrunch my eyebrows together as she bites her bottom lip. She reaches up with her hand and moves my hair that has fallen in my face. I would do anything to kiss her right now, but I don’t. The community center is always full of kids, and volunteers are constantly checking up on everyone. If I could make it special for her, I would. I don’t want a bunch of kids around us when I kiss her for the first time. But, damn, I want to so bad.
I look down, focusing on the guitar so I can’t look at her beautiful mouth. She clears her throat. Once I start strumming, I smell it. I glance up, and Shay’s running her tropical-smelling chapstick all over her lips. Damn. I try so hard not to think about kissing those lips. “Sing something, Shay,” I say to distract myself. She reaches down between us and shoves her chapstick back into her pocket.
“What do you want me to sing?”
“Anything. I just want to hear your pretty voice.”
When she sings the last note, a feeling washes over me, and I have to ask her what I think about so often. “What do you do when you’re not here with me? I know you have a lot of school stuff, but who do you hang out with?” I look away briefly. When I turn back, I throw my hair back so I can see her face. I swallow down my nervousness slowly. She reaches up and runs her finger over the front of my neck where I just swallowed the knot that’s building in my throat. “Why did you just do that?” I ask her.
Giggling, she answers, “You are so strong… I mean, you just look really fit.”
Giving her a smile, but not forgetting my question, I ask her again in a low voice as I take her hand in mine. “Who do you hang out with when we’re not together?” Her slender fingers entwine with mine.
“When I have free time, I’m with Jules mostly.”
“You don’t hang out with guys?”
Her eyes soften, but I can tell she hesitates. “Jace,” she says, grabbing the front of my hair playfully. “Of course, I hang out with boys. I’m at school all week with tons of them, silly.”
“That’s not what I meant, Shay.”
“I know what you meant. If you mean outside of school, probably just Brett and Cole.” My stomach drops. “Not often, though. They just kind of show up sometimes.” She smiles while I clench my jaw slightly. I remember the name Cole from when I first met her. She mentioned playing football with him. I’ve heard his name here and there over the last couple of years. She takes her free hand and runs it over the guitar strings and then looks up with those big blues eyes, asking me the same question. “What about you? What do you do when you aren’t with me?”
“I do nothing. I just sit and wait to see your pretty face again,” I tell her the truth.
“Uh-huh, sure, you do.”
“That’s the truth, Shay.” I squeeze her hand, and her face softens. I’m not sure if she believes me, so I look directly into her expressive eyes. Whenever they met mine, my heartstrings are pulled tightly. It’s not just the obvious color that reels me in, but the warmth and innocence and the way she sees life out of them that I love so much. She breathes positivity through every part of her being. If it’s not the way she bounces around in excitement, it’s her sweet voice full love. Then I look into her eyes, and there’s a truth within them. A truth that she hears every word I say and feels every single touch. It’s always in her eyes. I want to get lost in their beauty for the rest of my life. How can someone be so perfect without even trying to be?
“All right,” I tell her softly. She nods happily.
“Okay,” she says in a whisper. When she gets into her car with her mom, I stand there and watch her leave the center, just like I always do. But, this time I have an unsettled feeling. I hate that someone else gets her more than me.
THE NIGHT DRAGS; I wish I could talk to Shay. I’ve tried to fall asleep, but I can’t. Ever since I asked Shay whom she hangs out with, thoughts constantly flood my mind. I get up out of bed and grab my backpack. I never touch my backpack on the weekends, but that’s where my notebook and pens are. Sitting up against the wall, I write her a letter.
Shay,
I always have the best time with you. You’re my most favorite person in the whole world. I don’t really care what we do. I just love spending time with you. I think about you when we’re apart, which is pretty much all the time. I just want you to know… You’re everything to me. When we’re apart, I want you to know I can’t wait to see your pretty face again. I just want you to know how I feel.
Jace
I fold it in half and draw a big heart on it with her name in the center and the date. Then I set it inside my backpack.
While trying to fall asleep, I hear the front door open. I don’t pay much attention until I hear loud voices. I sit up in bed, but it gets quiet, so I lie back down. Within a minute, the loud voices are back, accompanied by a loud crash. I jump up and run out of my room. When I get to the cause of the noise, I freeze. It’s my mom and a guy. I’ve never seen him before, but he looks wasted. I look over at my mom, and she doesn’t look much better.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
With a drunken slur, she commands, “Go to bed, Jace.”
“Who is he?” I question, looking over at the guy who can barely stand up.
“None of your business. I said go to bed,” she spits out.
“It is my business,” I say sternly. “He’s in my house, and I don’t know who he is. I want him out of here, Mom.”
She laughs bitterly at me. “You can’t tell me what to do, Jace.” As soon as she says that, the guy actually has the nerve to talk to me.
“Listen to your mom, kid. Beat it.”
Now I’m pissed. I’m so tired of the way she lives. I’m tired of her lack of love, her lack of respect, her lack of attention, and I’m tired of her fucked-up ways. I’m just sick of her.
“I said to leave!” I yell.
What happens next shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. The guy walks up to me. He’s around my height, and the closer he gets to me, the more I see. He’s a lot younger than my mom. He looks like a total druggie—someone she probably picked up at the bar where she spends most of her days either working or drinking. Scratch the working part; I’m sure her time there is spent getting drunk.
He smells like both pot and booze. I want to s
tep away from him so I don’t have to smell him, but I don’t want him to think he’s punking me. So, I stand tall, looking him right in the eyes.
“I’m not leaving unless your mom says. Now, go to fucking bed, kid.”
“No. Get the fuck out of my house!” He steps forward, invading my space. He’s close enough to see I’m not a young kid. Hell, I’m taller than he is. “Do I look like a fucking kid to you?” I say low and slow so the dumb ass can understand me.
“Jace!” my mom yells. I look over at her, and as soon as I do, the guy blindsides me. It happens so fast I don’t see it coming. Right as I turn back to him, he cold cocks me. I stumble back.
“You motherfucker,” I say, wrestling him to the dirty floor that my mom hasn’t vacuumed in a damn year. I go off on him and hit him over and over again until he spits blood. “Don’t. Ever. Come. Here. Again!” With my mom on my back, I get up, almost throwing her to the floor with the force of her pulling at me. I stand over him. He’s not getting up easy. Serves him right. I look at my mom and tell her, “Get him out, and don’t bring druggies here again. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any respect for yourself?”
She looks at me wildly and huffs, like I ruined her damn night. As the guy gets up, I stare at him. He doesn’t even look at my mom. He just walks out the door. I go over and lock it. When I turn back to her, she’s gone, and I hear her bedroom door slam. I walk straight to the bathroom to check my eye. It’s already swollen and starting to bruise.
That asshole.
Great! Just fucking great. How the hell am I going to explain this to Shay?
MY BLACK EYE is visible. I did everything I could to make the swelling go down the last few days, but I couldn’t do anything about the bruising. It is what it is. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I want to concentrate on making Shay a card and not what I’m going to tell her about my face. I get to the center before her. Wasting no time, I sit down with construction paper and start making her card. It’s been a long week of turmoil at home. School sucks, and I just want to see her. As I finish drawing the best pink heart I can, I see her walk through the door.
Everything falls away.
Taking the note I wrote her over the weekend, I slip it between the folded construction paper. I set it aside because I’m not ready to give it to her yet.
She’s practically skipping toward me. She’s always happy. Plopping down next to me, she nudges my shoulder. I look to the side and give her a smirk, but I stay focused in front of me to try to keep my eye out of view. She places a white paper bag next to me. Bright colored pencils full of hearts and flowers decorate it. There’s even a football. That makes me smile wider.
I keep looking at the bag. She wrote in cursive the words:
You’re the greatest. You’re the best. Best Friends Forever. You’re a great athlete. You are the sweetest boy. I love your eyes. I love your heart, and you’re the cutest boy ever.
That last sentence makes me glance over at her. I raise my eyebrows. She rolls her eyes. Then I look back at the bag taking it all in. Below the words “cutest boy,” she wrote in big bold red letters:
BE MY VALENTINE.
My heart squeezes in my chest. As I turn in my chair, my eyes meet hers, and every single crappy moment I’ve had away from her is gone. Her eyes radiate warmth, and I can’t stop looking into them. I slip my hand under the table and find her hand sitting on her lap. I put it in mine. She interlaces our fingers, giving them a little squeeze. God, she really doesn’t have a clue what she does to me. My thumb draws small circles on her soft skin. “Can I open it?” I ask. Her bright blue eyes go straight to the purple bruise I’m sporting. I inhale deeply, waiting for the question.
“What happened to your eye?”
“I hit it against something at home,” I say. Shay sticks out her bottom lip.
“Ouch, that must have hurt. I can see a bruise.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. It just bruised a little bit.” I brush it off. She gives me a sad smile, but looks satisfied with my answer. The bruising really went down, so it seems legit.
“No. You can’t open it yet,” she says, surprising me. Damn, I really want to look inside the bag. “I want you to open it when you get home.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. Reaching over with my free hand, I slide over her card I made her. Her smile reaches her warm eyes as she reads the front first. It reads, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” with the year encased in a large pink heart. She lets go of my hand under the table so she can open her card. Then she slowly opens it like it’s the most precious thing to her. I watch her intently as she reads the small words I wrote inside surrounded by little red and pink hearts. The letter I wrote her from home falls to the table, exposing what I tucked inside her Valentine’s card. Little pink words written in my best cursive are the words:
Be my girl.
She closes the homemade card and raises it to her chest. Her long, dark eyelashes close, and when she opens them, she looks at me and says, “You have my heart.” I reach up with my sweaty palm and run it over her warm cheek. Her blue eyes never leave mine. We’re pretty much lost in each other. She shakes her head with the biggest, widest smile, as her eyes get a little watery. Grabbing the note I wrote that fell away, I hand it to her. “Oh, I… I’m sorry. I was kind of taken for a moment by what you wrote in my card.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You don’t have to read it now. Actually, read it when you get home. But, can you write down your address for me?” She does that thing that I love when she’s confused. She scrunches up her cute nose. I don’t want her to know why I’m asking for her address. I want to surprise her. “I just want to know where you live.”
“Can I have yours, too?”
Shaking my head, I tell her no about wanting to know where I live. She frowns, but scribbles down her address. I take her chin in my hand. I want her to look at me. “It’s not that I don’t want you to know where I live… It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
I hesitate. “It’s not good enough for you.”
“Jace…”
Her hand finds mine again on my lap. I give it a little squeeze, trying to reassure her. She drops the conversation. I hate making her feel bad. I just feel really protective of her, and I can’t let her in that environment.
We spend the rest of our time together making cards with the little kids. It is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had. When I get home, I go into my room and open the white paper bag. I smile immediately.
Inside, there are two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into the shape of a heart with a little note attached.
You have all of my heart.
For the first time in a while, I don’t go to bed hungry. At this moment, I know what I feel for Shay will be protected. My love for her is real and unending. Shay is the only girl I will ever give my heart to.
I fall asleep with a smile.
One year later…
LARGE, SWEATY HANDS surround me. I fall back with the force of his strong body. He really is starting to bulk up. Even through his sweatiness, light cologne lingers on his skin. Warm breath fills my ear, tickling me as I try to get out of his chokehold.
“Play with me, Starkie,” he whispers.
“I don’t want to,” I say.
He moans, and then he says it again. “Come on. Please… I miss playing with you.” Finally, I remove his strong arms that were pretty much crushing me. I turn around and face him. “I don’t want to play, Cole.”
“What’s the deal, Shay?” He looks angry.
I see Jules ahead, getting ready to walk into chemistry. “There is no deal. We’re in high school. We don’t have recess anymore if you haven’t noticed.”
“Don’t be like that, Shay.” He lowers his voice. “I just miss you.”
“Really, Cole? I think you have plenty of girls that can take my place on the field.”
He turns away. “I only like to play football with you.” As he walks aw
ay from me, he yells over his shoulder, “I guess I got replaced.”
I chew on my bottom lip. I’m sure every girl in the school thinks I’m crazy for turning Cole away. They all beg for his attention, but the only attention he wants is mine. I love Cole as a friend; I always have. It’s just sometimes I wish we didn’t go to the same school. I begged my parents enough since I was in the sixth grade to let me go to public school for my high school years. Without much convincing, Jules and I enrolled in the same school together. But, Cole and Brett followed us.
When it comes to the opposite kind of feelings, there is only one boy I have any of those for. I only have eyes for Jace. I try hard not to hurt Cole, but he has to start respecting the fact that I’m not interested in him in that way. If Jace knew Cole touched me the way he just did, he would not be happy.
Walking into class, I see Jules checking her phone. Cole is sitting a few seats away from us. He glances at me, but I act like I don’t see him. Jules leans over. “Saw Cole mauling you in the courtyard.”
“I know. He just doesn’t stop,” I tell her. She looks back at her phone then sets it on her desk.
“How’s your bad boy doing? I bet he’d be pissed if he saw Cole all over you.”
“First off, Jace is not a bad boy.”
“Oh my God, Shay. Don’t get your panties in a tiff. You know I’m just kidding. He just has that whole sexy bad boy look,” she says. I will give her that, but there is nothing bad about my boy.
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