by Gemma Weir
But this is Valentine, and as much as I can see the risks, I’m prepared to accept them for a chance to be with the guy beneath all of his past. Underneath the tribulations of the last few years is the sweet guy, the one who can pull me from a panic attack just with the touch of his lips. The guy who is prepared to stand by my side, even when every single other person wants to hate him.
I could push him away, maybe even get him to leave for a little while, but he’d come back, I’m sure of it. He’d come back and wait, silently taking all of our hatred because he feels like he deserves it.
He isn’t a nice person, at least not on the surface, but beneath it I can see the real him and although I can barely even think the words in my mind, I’m falling for him.
The file beside me is calling my name, taunting me to read all about his past, all about the way his mom pushed him away, how a girl called Bella did something to jade him. But I don’t want to read about him. I don’t want to hear the sterile facts about what happened and how he reacted. I want to know him, see his face when he tells me about the things that have shaped who he is.
I want to hear about his dad, about him as a kid, happy memories from before his life went to shit.
Pushing the file away, I fall back onto my bed and cover my eyes with my hands. He gave me this information, but to what end? Is he hoping to push me away, to scare me off? Or is it just that he can’t bear to tell me whatever is held on the papers?
Sitting up, I pull the file closer to me and flip open the brown cardstock cover. The first sheet has a picture of a younger Valentine and the stark misery in that picture is enough to make me shut the file. My pulse is hammering behind my chest and emotion rises in my throat.
My hand shakes as I flip open the cover again and pick up the first sheet of paper. I scan the text, listing his full name and date of birth, then move to the paragraphs of notes that look like they were typed on an old school typewriter.
Valentine was placed in the care of the state after his biological mother withdrew her parental rights and awarded guardianship of the child to the state of New Hampshire. Biological mother has declared herself unwilling to care for the child any longer.
Unwilling to care for the child. Ice fills my veins as I think about my mom deciding she was unwilling to care for me or my brothers anymore. Impossible. There’s no way my mom could ever turn her back on any of us, so how could his? How could his mom just stop caring enough to give her kid up to the foster care system?
I let my eyes wander back to the papers and read an entry dated three months later.
Valentine is withdrawn and unwilling to accept his new situation. He has made multiple applications for emancipation, but the family law judge has deemed him too young to be able to effectively care for himself should he become an emancipated minor.
I keep reading, my gaze glued to the lines of text, devouring the notes his social worker has made about him.
After multiple attempts to run away from his current home, the decision has been made to move the child to another setting out of state. Our hope is that being outside of his home state will enable him to embrace a fresh start. Arrangements have been made and a date set.
My heart hurts for him, but I keep reading, until a familiar name appears.
Valentine appears to have settled into his current home. No recent attempts to run away have been made and he seems to have accepted the court’s decision about his emancipation. The staff at the home have advised that he has started to interact with the other children and has formed a friendship with a new resident Bella Simmons.
Bella. Valentine told me that I reminded him of her. That she was the first friend he made. Her name pops up again on notes made months later.
Staff have contacted the department after an incident occurred at the house. Valentine acted violently toward members of staff and an ex-resident, Lenny Jones. Staff felt it was necessary to call the police to subdue the situation. When interviewed, Valentine refused to speak at all to either staff members or police officers, but other residents reported having overheard Valentine and Bella arguing about money, drugs, and a set-up. Drug tests were administered to both Valentine and the other child involved. Valentine tested negative for all narcotics and alcohol.
What? My mind swirls with all of the possibilities these meagre notes could be saying. Was Valentine on drugs? Was Bella? I keep reading hoping for more.
Staff have again advised that police were called to the high school today to deal with another incident involving Valentine, Bella Simmons, and Lenny Jones, as well as two other minors not known to the state. Valentine was taken to the hospital to treat wounds to his face and torso. It is not known what started the altercation, but again witnesses reported shouting as well as mentions of product, Valentine owing Bella something and set-ups. Drug tests were again administered on Valentine, but tests showed the child negative for all narcotics and alcohol.
Two months later another entry states.
The decision has been made to remove Valentine from his current home and place him in a new situation out of state. Both his school and the staff at his current group home feel that a fresh start might be in Valentine’s best interest. A position has been found for him and arrangements made.
I scan the rest of the entries seeing again and again the recommendations for him to be moved to one home after the next. The last entry is the most recent and I read it through glassy eyes.
Valentine’s high school counsellor has contacted me in the form of the attached letter.
A copy of the letter is here, and I quickly pull it out.
Dear Sirs,
My name is Caroline Kowalski and I am the student guidance counsellor at Cedar Crest High School where the pupil Valentine Miller is enrolled.
I’m writing to you to express my concern about what impact Valentine’s current home may be having on his growth and development as a human and his success after high school and into adulthood.
Valentine Miller is one of the brightest students I’ve ever encountered in my ten year tenure as a guidance counsellor. He scored an almost perfect score on the SAT and shows an IQ in the top 5% of the country. He has the potential to go to an Ivy League college and be extremely successful in life.
However, Valentine is sullen and uncommunicative in anything beyond his schoolwork. He has no friends and makes no effort to develop relationships with his peers. He is withdrawn to a point that he was referred to me as his teachers had genuine concerns for the wellbeing of his mental health.
I am aware of his current living situation and was granted access to his file and I am aware of the circumstances surrounding his removal from his biological family. According to his file, in almost three years he has been in more than ten group home settings across three states.
I am writing because having spent time with this child, I was moved to plead on his behalf for him to be given a chance to live up to his full potential. Valentine has a brilliant mind, but his spirit is broken. He chooses to have no friends, or form bonds or relationships with anyone in his life. He comes to school, completes all of his schoolwork, and has a 4.0 grade average. He is a brilliant student, but as a person he is uncommunicative, angry, and hurt.
In my position I have encountered many children in the states care, but I have never felt such certainty that if Valentine is left to age out of the system in his current home environment, his life will be an utter waste.
This boy needs a family. He needs to be in a loving home with people who care about him. He is an angry, hurt child that has been abandoned by his family and although the system is doing its best to support him, you are woefully neglecting his emotional wellbeing.
I am completely aware that finding foster homes for older teens is difficult and as such I am proposing that I petition the court to become Valentine’s legal guardian and he be given the opportunity to move into my home with me, my husband, and children.
I am one hundred percent convinced that if Val
entine were put in a situation where he could be shown and recognize love and support, he would grow to be a valuable member of society, go to college, and thrive at life.
I know this is an unusual request, but please, please find this child a home and a family. He needs to be loved and for him to realize that there are people in the world who will want him in their lives.
Give this boy a chance at a future.
I await your response to my suggestion about my application for guardianship and can of course provide any information, references etc to prove mine and my husband’s suitability.
I beg that you give this matter serious consideration.
* * *
Kind Regards,
Caroline Kowalski
* * *
My hands are shaking as I lower the letter back down onto the stack of papers now littering my bed. All this information is Valentine’s past. But it’s just observations from an outsider’s perspective, except for the letter from his former guidance counsellor. I wonder why they sent him here rather than accepting her offer to become his guardian? I wonder if he wanted to go and live with her? Does he even know she tried to offer him a home?
The final note is about his move to Archer’s Creek and I lift it up and read it with a shaky exhale.
Upon recommendation from his previous high school, his social worker, and the independent assessments that have been undertaken by the state of New Mexico, it has been decided that the child be moved from his current residence. Guardianship of the child has been transferred to the state of Texas, where Brandi and Micah Johnson have agreed to offer Valentine a placement within their home. This couple has experience with older teens and has a track record of the children within their care going on to become successful members of society. Valentine has now passed his eighteenth birthday and upon receiving his high school diploma will be considered an adult and free to move on with his life as he chooses. Our hope is that this family environment will be a good fit for the child and that a move out of state will be a fresh start and will segue into a successful transition into adulthood.
A state of melancholy settles over me as I scoop up all of the paperwork and push it back into the folder, shutting it. I feel like I just betrayed him by reading it, but he gave me the file, he wanted me to know. I don’t feel like I know him any better though. None of those notes—the multiple reiterations that a move to a new home would be a fresh start—have shown me any insight into how he feels, how the moving again and again affected him.
I know more about him after only knowing him for a matter of weeks, than these social workers who have been in his life for the last three years. My heart yearns to go to him, to tell him that I want him, that I want him in my life, that he matters, that Brandi and Sleaze want him. But I don’t.
Words aren’t enough. It’s going to take time and actions for him to understand that he’s valuable to us, and not just me, but all of us.
There are a thousand questions I can ask him, but I decide not to. Right here and now, I make the decision to forget about his past and instead just focus on the future. Him right now, his actions from this moment on are what’s important.
Pulling out my cell I quickly type a message.
Me: Nothing in that file matters. I forgive you and I want to be with you. See you tomorrow xo
His reply comes almost immediately.
Valentine: <3
A laugh spills from me when I see the single heart-shaped emoji. I send him a heart back, then crawl into bed and watch mindless TV until I fall asleep and dream of a broken boy with a lost looking gaze.
The next morning, I wake up feeling lighter than I have in months. I run through my normal ritual, showering and getting ready for school. Then coffee in hand, I follow Zeke to his car, only feeling slightly guilty that the twins are stuck riding the bus because Zeke and I have been riding together. We swing by to pick Valentine up first and by the time we get to his house I’m practically vibrating with excitement.
The moment the car comes to a complete stop, I bound out and rush toward the house, pushing through the front door and barreling straight into Valentine. He opens his mouth to speak but I press my lips against his silencing him.
He growls, picking me up off the ground and holding me to his chest as we kiss, our tongues tangling together.
“Ewwww gross,” A small voice says from behind Valentine, interrupting the passion-filled spell the kiss had woven.
Valentine smiles against my lips, lowering me to the ground but not releasing me as he turns his head and looks at Callum who is behind us with Brandi and Sabrina.
“Morning,” I call, waving as I peer at them over Valentine’s shoulder.
“Morning, sweetie,” Brandi calls back, a smile and a slight blush covering her cheeks.
“Come on, trouble,” Valentine says, pulling me to his side, his arm draped over my shoulder.
There’s a levity in his voice that I love and I’m smiling as he guides me to the car and holds open the back door for me. He climbs in after me and I snuggle into his side as we pick up Emmy, then Griffin, before finally making our way to school.
“Today is going to be a good day,” I announce, as we make our way across the lot toward the school building.
“Yeah, why’s that?” Griffin asks. “Is Becky Lewis finally gonna give me a blow job?”
“Ewwww,” Emmy calls, looking up from the Kindle in her hands. “Becky is a skank; don’t let her near your dick.”
“Ems, don’t be jealous. You know my dick is yours if you want it; all you have to do is say.” Griffin retorts, drifting to her side and grabbing at his dick beneath his low-slung board shorts.
Emmy looks at him, covers her mouth with her hand, and makes a gagging noise. “God, I’m gonna hurl. You’re like my brother. I don’t even want to think about your dick.”
“You’re the one that brought my dick up,” Griffin singsongs.
The building looms above us and for the first time since I came back, I walk through the threshold without a real sense of trepidation. A path clears for us and people look, but it’s curiosity I can feel, nothing more. When we reach our lockers, I turn in Valentine’s arms, kiss him quickly then spin away. Reaching for the lock on my locker, I enter the combination while Valentine’s huge body heats my back, his hand resting low on my stomach, his dick pressing against my butt.
“You look so fucking hot today, Princess, but this dress is too short if you don’t want me walking round with a rock-hard cock all day.”
A giggle bursts from my lips and I wiggle my butt back into his dick.
“Evil,” he growls, but I can hear the playful amusement in his voice too.
Slipping the lock from my locker, I pull open the door and I’m assaulted with the sound of my own voice. So loud I have to cover my ears. The noise blares from the speakers above my head and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s me; the audio from the video of Zeke and me. I listen, detached, as I tell my brother how I think I’m going crazy. The bleak distress is clear in my voice and it takes me back to the desperation I’d felt that day, then to the humiliation, the overwhelming horror of watching myself on that huge projection screen.
Valentine’s arms disappear from my waist and then the sound stops and all I can hear is the sound of my heart pounding and the shallow gasps of my breath. The others crowd around me and in a second I’m cocooned with love and support. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing. It takes a while, but eventually it works.
Opening my eyes again, I wipe the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen from my cheeks and push through the circle of friends surrounding me. When I see Brit, she’s standing on the other side of the corridor smiling at me. She looks like she thinks she’s won. She looks like she thinks she broke me.
She hasn’t.
I force a bright smile to my slightly trembling lips, and hers dulls a little. I take a step toward her as the kids around us gawk, their gazes flicking back and forth between us. T
hen I tilt my head to the side and assess her.
It’s a bitchy thing to do, but right now I don’t care. Sliding my mean girl persona back into place is easier than I expected and with it comes a familiarity that I hadn’t anticipated, along with the knowledge that I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
I allow my eyes to look her over, starting at her feet then slowly moving upwards, taking in every detail of the slutty outfit she’s wearing. I finish my perusal on her face that’s covered in too much makeup, and her freshly bleached hair that’s beginning to show a dark root at her scalp.
I smile tauntingly the whole time and she stiffens visibly under my appraisal. I can feel Valentine behind me. His hand is curled around my hip, but unlike before he’s not protecting me, he’s just supporting me. My brother is next to me, his body radiating with barely restrained anger. In the past I’ve let him fight my battles and he’s proved before that he can decimate her with a few veiled insults. Griffin and Emmy are on my other side and even my tiny, book nerd friend is glowering, anger pouring from her. Right now, she’s the perfect mix of beautiful and deadly and if her parents could see her, I doubt they would ever be prouder of the tiny little badass that she is. Griffin’s usual smile is gone and in its place is a scowl that pushes away all of the empathy from him and replaces it with hostility and an air of violence.
Brit straightens, her arms folding across her body defensively and the girls that had been laughing with her, suddenly seem a little further away. To the outsider looking in we probably seem ridiculous. I mean could this be more high school special? Notebooks at dawn, the Montagues and the Capulets.
I sigh and the sound is condescending as fuck, like this drama is hardly worth my time. Tilting my head in the opposite direction, I take a step forward, letting Valentine’s hand fall from me so I’m standing alone.