Gideon and Roberto became a pair. Not a couple. (*Gideon would never have used that word.) Or boyfriends. (*Because, weirdly, girls were allowed to call their close friends who were girls girlfriends, but boys weren’t allowed to call their close friends who were boys boyfriends.) They were a pair in the same way a pair of headphones was a pair—connected and sharing a music only they possessed.
As January started to turn its last corner, they found they were a pair surrounded by more and more couples. Because with Valentine’s Day coming up, people wanted to be in a couple, even in fifth grade. First Darren started dating Cora. Then Jackson succumbed to April (*or maybe he just pretended to be succumbing, and really liked her). Then, much to Gideon’s surprise, Joelle told him that she and Tucker were going out.
All Gideon could say to that was “Oh.” Then, after Joelle had stared at him long enough, he added, “That’s great!”
Gideon honestly wasn’t sure it was great. They were his two best friends. It could be really messy if they broke up. Or maybe they’d leave him behind.
Seeing his expression, Joelle said, “Don’t worry. We’re still the three of us. And also, you have Roberto to hang out with. So it’s not like we’ll be leaving you alone.”
Roberto had been sitting with them at the boy-girl lunch table for weeks now, and fit in as much as anybody who hadn’t been going to Walker Elementary since kindergarten could. Gideon often found himself explaining what they were talking about—what had gone wrong on the third-grade field trip or what Mia’s mom had done to the cupcakes she’d brought to class for Mia’s birthday last year or why it was so hysterical that Jackson and April were a couple, considering April had punched him out in second grade.
Roberto didn’t write these stories down in a notebook, but Gideon could see him taking them down in his memory (*even though he had no way of knowing how long they would stay there). It made everything a little more interesting, to have to explain it to someone else. Because in order to explain something, he had to find the story behind it. And Roberto made Gideon realize there were stories behind everything. (*Harriet the Spy could have told him that too, if she’d gone to their school.)
As Valentine’s Day got closer, the pressure among the couples continued to build. It felt so old-fashioned to Gideon—the boys bragging about what they were going to do, and the girls bragging about what their boyfriends told them they were going to do. Usually something involving flowers. Or chocolate. Or a restaurant. Or all three. Gideon had never liked it when he’d been forced to give cards to every single person in his class … but he actually liked that much more than he liked everyone sectioning off into twos.
Roberto didn’t seem to have any feelings about Valentine’s Day that Gideon could notice. (*Gideon was paying close attention.) He didn’t seem to be jumping into the fray of needing someone to buy chocolate for. Nor did he seem that worried that his February 14th might be valentine-free. The first time he even joined the valentine conversation was when Joelle brought it up at the lunch table, hinting to Tucker that homemade gifts were better than a bunch of flowers … as long as the homemade gift took a lot of hours to make.
“I could teach you how to knit her a scarf,” Roberto offered.
“That’s so sweet!” Joelle said. “You should totally do that!”
Tucker looked at Roberto with murder in his eyes. “Um … I can’t. Because I’ve already planned … something else.”
“Well, it better not be homemade cookies,” Joelle said. “Because I know who makes the cookies at your house, and it isn’t you.”
Tucker sighed. Snagged.
“What are you guys doing for Valentine’s Day?” Joelle asked Gideon and Roberto.
Does she mean each of us separately or does she mean us together? Gideon wondered.
Aloud this was shortened to him saying, “Together?”
Roberto looked at him strangely and said, “We haven’t decided yet. But we’ll do something. While all of you are on your dates, we’ll be hanging out.”
Gideon was surprised by this, but it also made sense. Couples went on dates. Pairs hung out. Therefore he and Roberto would hang out.
They’d been hanging out a lot, mostly at Roberto’s house, where it wasn’t against the rules to have a friend over after school. Roberto’s mom was often there—even though Roberto’s dad had gotten a great job, she hadn’t been able to find one in their new town. Within a week of his first visit, she was treating Gideon like a member of their extended family.
Valentine’s Day was a Friday that year. Roberto invited Gideon to sleep over. When Gideon asked his parents if that was okay, he was relieved to find they had made valentine plans of their own and were grateful that they didn’t have to find a sitter.
That morning, Gideon came down to the kitchen for breakfast to find two heart-shaped boxes of chocolate on the table—a big one for him and a small one for Samson. (*On a previous Valentine’s Day his mother had made the mistake of buying Gideon a chocolate turtle, which he’d refused to eat, because the idea of biting into a turtle was so deeply upsetting. He couldn’t understand why his mother had put him in such a cruel situation.)
Normally, Gideon would have left his box of chocolates in the kitchen, and would have doled them out to himself one at a time, to such a prolonged degree that it might have been Easter by the time all the chocolates were gone. This time, though, he hoped his parents didn’t notice when he took the box upstairs, so he could hide it in his backpack to take to school, and then to Roberto’s.
Once he got to school, he was very aware that he was what seemed like the only person who wasn’t parading his valentine in front of everyone else. Jackson made a big show of giving April a bracelet, telling her, “It’s real gold.” And then, when she didn’t seem excited enough, he repeated it: “It’s real gold.”
The first thing Roberto asked Gideon when he got to class was what Tucker had ended up doing for Joelle. About five seconds later, Joelle came in wearing a red scarf, looking pleased. Tucker looked relieved.
As Ms. June started her lessons, Gideon pondered the word valentine.
On the one hand, it contained the word evil.
Valentine = An evil net
On the other hand, it contained the word live.
The whole day, Gideon kept the chocolates in his backpack. Even though he was hungry. Even though there were kids all around him eating their own chocolates. He didn’t even say anything about them as he and Roberto walked over to Roberto’s house. When they got there, he expected Roberto’s mom to come out and greet them. Instead, Roberto explained that she’d driven into the city to pick up his dad so they could have what he called “a night out.” Which left Gideon and Roberto to have a night in.
They got snacks from the kitchen, like they usually did, and then went into the den to play some Nintendo (*also like they usually did). Since it was Friday, homework didn’t hover over their hours together. Something else hovered instead. Things felt so ordinary that Gideon kept the heart-box of chocolates in his bag. Roberto wasn’t mentioning Valentine’s Day at all. So maybe they weren’t celebrating it. A pair, not a couple. Two friends hanging out on a February afternoon. Fourteen was just a number.
They played some Super Mario Kart and some Final Fantasy V, and even though this was something Gideon loved to do, especially on the couch next to Roberto, he wasn’t as into it as he usually was. Valentine’s Day wasn’t only hovering—it was starting to retreat. And Gideon found that he didn’t want it to, even if he wouldn’t have been able to explain to himself why.
Finally, after a particularly strong run at Mario Kart on Roberto’s part, Roberto paused the console and said, “I have something for you.” He ran out of the room so quickly, Gideon didn’t even have a chance to ask what. He could hear Roberto zipping around the house, and he felt slow in comparison.
When Roberto came back into the room, he had something behind his back, and enough mischief in his eyes that Gideon wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been a Super Soaker. But instead it was an envelope, a red envelope.
“For you,” Roberto said.
He didn’t need to say it, because GIDEON was written in enthusiastic letters on the front of the envelope.
Gideon didn’t have to ask Roberto if he should open it now—the answer was written across Roberto’s face as enthusiastically as Gideon’s name was written on the envelope.
Inside the envelope was a homemade card. It showed a turtle that looked a lot like Samson. The only difference was that all the spots on his shell were shaped like hearts.
Gideon opened the card. Inside it said:
Happy Valentine’s Day
to
The Best Valentine in the Whole World
Love,
Roberto
Gideon felt his heart racing with happiness and beating with a nervous energy. He didn’t know what to say, so he made a joke instead.
“Wow,” he said. “The whole world. That’s a lot.”
Roberto sat back down next to him on the couch, turned so his knees were touching the side of Gideon’s leg.
“Yes,” Roberto said. “From the North Pole to the South Pole. From the bottom of the Grand Canyon to the top of the mountains in Yellowstone.”
“I think you mean Yosemite,” Gideon said. “Yellowstone doesn’t have mountains. Yosemite has El Capitan.”
“From the bottom of the Grand Canyon to the top of El Capitan, then!”
“But why?” Gideon asked. He couldn’t help himself. “I haven’t done anything!” Then, as soon as these words were out, he remembered the chocolates. “Wait!” he said, reaching for his backpack and taking out the heart-shaped box. “I did! I brought you this!”
He removed the plastic and sat back down on the couch, crisscross facing Roberto. Roberto shifted so he was sitting crisscross too, knees touching Gideon’s. The box of chocolates sat in both of their laps.
Gideon removed the lid and then took out the piece of paper on top. He started to look at it, because it explained which fillings were in each piece of chocolate, but Roberto grabbed it away from him and threw it over his shoulder.
“That’s cheating!” Roberto said. “Here.”
He picked up a chocolate and broke it in half, revealing the coconut filling inside. He gave half to Gideon and kept half for himself. On the count of three, they put the halves in their mouths.
“Yum,” Roberto said.
“Definitely,” Gideon agreed.
Gideon chose the next piece. It was messier to split—a molten chocolate erupting onto his fingers. The two halves collapsed like demolished houses. Gideon was going to give up, but Roberto took one of the gooey chunks and popped it quickly into his mouth. Gideon did the same, then licked his fingers for good measure.
Roberto contemplated the next piece, then said, “I have an idea.” He picked a rectangle of chocolate and held it up to Gideon. “I’ll hold it in my teeth and you lean in and bite off your half.”
He didn’t wait for Gideon’s answer. He placed the chocolate in his mouth, with a little more than half sticking out. Even while doing this, he managed to smile.
Gideon’s heart raced even more. If he was the tortoise, his heart was the hare. And it was leaning him forward. It was letting him move through the space between them until there wasn’t any space left. He put his lips around the chocolate, and he couldn’t do that without also pressing his lips against Roberto’s. Both of them bit down on the chocolate, and it split between them, filling their mouths with caramel sweetness. For a moment, they hung there, the tastes inseparable. Then they pulled back, a strand of the caramel stretching between them until it broke and fell onto Gideon’s chin.
Roberto couldn’t stop smiling. Gideon was shaking, but also he was okay.
“I love it,” Roberto said.
And Gideon said, “Me too.”
Now it was Gideon’s turn. He picked up a large roundish chocolate.
“What do you think it is?” he asked.
“Maybe cherry,” Roberto said. “Maybe hazelnut?”
Now it was Gideon’s turn to smile.
“Let’s see,” he said.
He put half the chocolate in his mouth.
Roberto came to get the other half.
It tasted like roses, of all things.
They continued the game until there were only two chocolates left in the box. Most of their guesses were wrong. Most of their pass-offs lasted longer than they needed to. They ate so much chocolate that they didn’t have any room for dinner. They ate so much chocolate that they crashed earlier than they’d planned, asleep before Roberto’s parents came home. When Mr. and Mrs. Garcia did return, they peeked into Roberto’s room and saw the two boys in Roberto’s bed, still in their clothes, chocolate on their fingers and on their lips and on their shirts and pants, too.
Roberto’s parents decided not to wake them, so it was in this way that Gideon and Roberto ended the happiest Valentine’s Day they’d ever had.