It was another typical winter day. The mercury in the thermometer was stuck firmly on the zero mark, and the skies were a dull gray that reminded Amy of the battleship pictures in her American history book. At least the wind wasn’t blowing. That was a plus. But the local weatherman had warned that gusty winds and snow flurries could arrive before the end of the day.
Amy glanced in the mirror and forced a smile. She’d dressed in her most colorful blouse this morning, a bright yellow background printed with red and pink and orange flowers with bright green leaves. The blouse reminded her of the hot summer days she wished were here, and it went very well with her favorite dark brown slacks and matching blazer. Amy was trying her best to be cheerful this morning, but it just wasn’t working. She was just as depressed as she’d been yesterday.
It took only a moment to brush her hair. Amy pulled it back and fastened it with the hammered gold barrette that Colleen had given her for her last birthday. She’d have to do it all over again when she got to school. The hood of her parka messed up any hairstyle she fashioned at home; but she had a mirror in her locker, and it was easy to redo. She gave one final glance in the mirror, and nodded. She wasn’t beautiful, but she looked her best. Then she slipped into a pair of brown loafers and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen.
“How’s my favorite flower child?” Amy’s father looked up from his newspaper. “That blouse is a real eye-popper.”
“Thanks, Dad . . . I think.” Amy grinned at him. There was no way she wanted her mother to know how depressed she was. Then she’d ask a lot of questions and worry herself sick.
Amy’s mom was what Amy called a “P.M.W.” That stood for “Professional Mother and Wife.” Dorothy Hunter had given up her career as a court recorder when she was pregnant with Amy, and she’d devoted herself to making a perfect home for her daughter and husband. Amy’s mom was always reading articles in women’s magazines about warning signs. She was constantly on the alert for the six danger signs of teenage drug addiction, and the five warning signals of anorexia, and the nine probable indicators of potential teenage suicide. Dorothy Hunter would never believe that the weather was responsible for her daughter’s depression, even though it was perfectly true.
Amy’s mother smiled as she set a bowl of hot cereal in front of Amy. “I think you look very nice, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Amy stared down at her cereal, and sighed. She hated oatmeal, but her mother insisted that it was a good breakfast, even though Amy had shown her several studies claiming that oatmeal had no more nutritional value than Pop Tarts.
Amy’s dad pushed back his chair. “I have to run. We’ve got a big meeting this morning, down at the plant. Do you want a ride to school, Amy?”
“Definitely.” Amy grinned and took several mouthfuls of her oatmeal, just enough so that her mother wouldn’t feel hurt. She swallowed, hating the taste which always seemed slimy to her, and then she pushed back her chair.
“That’s all you’re going to eat?” Amy’s mother looked very worried.
“I had enough, Mom. It’s a big bowl, and I’m not really that hungry.” Amy thought fast as she noticed her mother’s concern. “We’re having beef stew for lunch at school, and it’s my favorite. But thanks for making my breakfast. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” Amy’s mother looked pleased. “Do you want me to pick you up after school?”
“No, thanks.” Amy carried her bowl to the counter and washed it out before her mother could see that she hadn’t eaten very much. “I’ll catch a ride with one of the kids. And don’t worry, Mom . . . I’ll come straight home. I have to finish my homework before the basketball game tonight.”
Amy watched while her dad kissed her mom good-bye. It was a ritual they went through every morning, and Amy thought it was sweet. Her father never left the house without giving her mother a hug and a kiss.
“Come on, flower child . . . let’s go.” Amy’s dad picked up his briefcase and his keys and motioned to her. “You’d better put on full survival gear. It’s cold out there.”
Amy nodded and took her parka out of the closet. She slipped it on, stuffed her shoes in her tote bag, and pulled on her bulky warm boots. Then she picked up her book bag and turned to smile at her parents. “I’m ready, Dad. Bye, Mom. See you after school.”
Amy’s dad waited until they pulled out of the driveway, and then he turned to grin at her. “Dunkin’ Donuts?”
“Yes!” Amy grinned back. “I’ll run in if you park in front. What do you want?”
“A cinnamon bun that’s full of carbohydrates and cholesterol.”
Amy nodded. “I noticed Mom was reading a health magazine the other day. She’s got you on a diet again . . . right?”
“Right. She gave me one piece of whole grain toast, no butter. And a two-egg-white omelette with chopped broccoli.”
“She must have heard that broccoli was a cancer preventative.” Amy grinned at him.
“I guess so. I used to like broccoli, but we’ve been having it every day for the past week. Make sure that cinnamon bun’s dripping with gooey frosting, Amy. I wouldn’t want to go to work feeling deprived.”
Amy laughed and hopped out when her dad pulled up to the Dunkin’ Donuts shop. The inside of the shop was steamy, and it smelled incredibly good.
“Hi, Amy.” Mrs. Beeseman, who was working behind the counter, gave Amy a smile. “Has your mother got your dad on another one of those health-food diets?”
Amy nodded. “Broccoli, egg whites, and dry whole grain toast. He wants the usual, Mrs. Beeseman, and so do I.”
Mrs. Beeseman flipped open a small pink cardboard box and put a cinnamon bun and a maple bar inside. Then she took the money Amy handed her, and gave back her change. “See you tomorrow morning?”
“Probably.” Amy nodded. “Mom’s diets usually last for at least two weeks.”
It was only a few blocks to the school, but Amy and her dad had finished their goodies by the time they pulled up in front. Amy gathered up her book bag and her shoes, and gave her dad a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride, Dad. And thanks for the carbohydrates and cholesterol.”
“Anytime, kiddo. And don’t tell your mom. See you tonight.”
Amy waved good-bye as her dad drove away, and then she walked up the sidewalk. Even though her dad had dropped her off right in front of the school, she was shivering as she pushed open the heavy double doors at Hamilton High and stepped into the semiwarmth of the entryway. She stamped the snow off her boots on the rubber grid that was provided especially for that purpose, and opened the inner door that led into the school, itself. The moment she stepped inside, Amy took her shoes from her tote bag, removed her boots, and slipped on her shoes. Then she headed up the stairway to her locker, carrying her boots with one hand. Boots weren’t allowed on the wooden floors of Hamilton High hallways. Students were required to carry them up to their lockers, and leave them there until it was time to go home.
“Hey, Amy.” Colleen, who had the locker next to Amy, greeted her with a smile. “How about this weather? It’s supposed to warm up to above zero today.”
Amy nodded. “I heard that. But then it’ll be warm enough to snow again. You just can’t win in the winter.”
“You’re a regular prophet of doom. Lighten up, Amy. Aren’t you glad that Mr. Dorman gave us permission to hold the Valentine’s Day Dance?”
“Yes. Of course I am. But I probably won’t have a date.”
“Come on, Amy.” Colleen’s frown deepened. “I just can’t take all this doom and gloom first thing in the morning. Isn’t there anything that’ll make you happy?”
Amy began to grin. “Sure. If Tanya Ellison slipped on the ice and sprained her ankle, it would definitely cheer me up.”
“I get it.” Colleen began to grin, too. “Then she wouldn’t be able to go to the dance, and you’d ask Brett. Is that right?”
Amy nodded. “That’s the general idea. Of course I don’t wish her any permanent injury . . . that wouldn’t be nice. I’ll settle for a little sprain that’ll keep her out of action for—oh, my God!”
“What?” Colleen looked puzzled. Amy’s face had gone pasty white.
“It’s . . . it’s Tanya!”
Colleen swiveled around to see. And then she gasped, too. Tanya was standing at her locker, and she was leaning on two crutches.
“Oh-oh!” Amy looked very guilty. “You don’t suppose?”
Colleen shook her head. “No way. Things don’t happen just because you want them to.”
“I know. But, Colleen . . . I said it, and then it happened!”
“Wrong.” Colleen looked very serious. “It happened before you said it. Tanya must have sprained her ankle last night. She’s already got the crutches.”
“That’s true, but I still feel guilty. I was wishing that something would happen so she couldn’t go to the dance.”
“Hi, girls. What’s up?”
Amy turned around to find Brett standing directly behind her, carrying a large box. How much had he heard? Amy did her best to maintain her composure; but her cheeks began to feel hot, and she knew she was blushing.
“Hi, Brett.” Colleen spoke up when she realized that Amy was practically speechless. “Amy and I were talking about poor Tanya. Do you know what happened?”
“Poor Tanya?” Brett looked thoroughly mystified.
Amy took a deep breath and managed to find her voice. “Yes. We just noticed that she was on crutches.”
“Oh, the crutches!” Brett started to grin. “Tanya borrowed them from the hospital. Her first-aid class is having a drill this morning, and she’s playing the part of an accident victim.”
“You mean she didn’t sprain her ankle?” Colleen tried not to look disappointed.
“No. Tanya’s fine. But I’ll tell her that you guys were concerned about her. That’s really nice.” Brett lifted the lid off the box and handed Amy an envelope. “Here, Amy. This is for you. Take a look when you’ve got a minute, and let me know what you think.”
“Sure, Brett. Thanks.” Amy waited until Brett was out of sight, and then she turned to Colleen. “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed.”
“Me, neither. What did Brett give you?”
“I don’t know.” Amy looked down at the envelope. “It feels like a card.”
“Open it and see.”
Amy hesitated. “But what if it’s something personal?”
“Come on, Amy. We’re best friends. Whatever it is, you’re going to tell me, anyway.”
“True.” Amy nodded, and opened the envelope. And then she gasped as she drew out a Valentine’s Day card. “It’s a Valentine. And it says, ‘Be Mine’ on the front. I can’t believe it! I got a Valentine from Brett!”
Colleen stared at the card for a moment, and then she shook her head. “I really hate to burst your bubble, Amy, but that card has a red heart with H. H. in the center for Hamilton High. Don’t you remember what we were talking about in the lunchroom, yesterday?”
“Oh.” Amy’s smile of pleasure faded quickly. “I get it. These are the cards that Brett and his dad printed up for us to sell?”
“I think so, but I could be wrong. Why don’t you open it and see if he wrote anything inside.”
Amy opened the card, and sighed as she saw the blank space inside. “You’re right, Colleen. This is just a sample. I should have known that Brett wouldn’t give me a Valentine.”
“But he did give you a Valentine.” Colleen made an effort to raise Amy’s spirits. “I don’t have one, and I bet no one else does, either. He singled you out, Amy. He wanted your approval and that’s a very good start.”
Amy didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But he’ll never take me to the dance.”
“How do you know? You haven’t asked him. Why don’t you beat Tanya to it?”
Amy shook her head. “She’s probably already asked him.”
“Maybe. But maybe not. I think you should try to get to him first. The worst he can say is no.”
“Yes, but . . .” Amy stopped and looked thoughtful. Colleen really did have a point. Tanya always left things to the last minute, and it was possible she hadn’t asked Brett to the dance yet.
“Well?” Colleen began to grin. She knew Amy was wavering. “Are you going to do it?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll think about it, okay?”
“There’s nothing to think about. If you want him to take you to the dance, you have to ask him. It’s that simple.”
Amy took a deep breath for courage and nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask him. It’s like you said, Colleen. The worst he can do is say no.”
It turned out that Amy was in luck. She didn’t have to count the ballots alone. Mr. Dorman had decided that at least three class members should be present while the votes were tallied, and he’d excused Gail and Colleen from their student council duties so that they could help Amy. He’d also given them permission to use the faculty lounge, which was deserted during fifth period.
“What a dump!” Colleen glanced around her in dismay. The long table in the center of the room was littered with coffee cups, and empty lunch trays. “There’s no place to spread out our ballots on the table. I guess we’ll have to clear these dishes and wipe it off.”
“And that’s exactly why Mr. Dorman let us use it!” Amy started to laugh. “You girls have been taken, big-time. Mr. Dorman knew we’d have to clean up the lounge to use the table.”
Gail nodded. “Amy’s right. The cooks usually clean it right before they go home. I guess Mr. Dorman figured he’d free them up for bigger and better things.”
“Like thinking up new ways to poison us?” Amy started to laugh.
“Exactly.” Colleen laughed, too. “Come on, you two. We might as well make the best of it. At least the teachers have cold drinks in the refrigerator, and we can help ourselves.”
In less than ten minutes the table was clean, the dishes were stacked neatly in the rubber tubs the kitchen had provided, and the girls were enjoying their favorite soft drinks from the teachers’ refrigerator. They’d developed a system for counting the votes. Gail would unfold the votes and read them aloud. Then she’d hand them to Colleen, who would verify them. Amy would do the actual count by making a tally mark on the lists Mr. Dorman had given her, one for the Senior boys, and one for the Senior girls.
Their first task had been to separate the votes. That wasn’t difficult because the names were written on hearts cut out of construction paper. There were red hearts for the Valentine Queen, and green hearts for the Valentine King.
They’d counted the green votes first, and Brett had taken a decisive lead for Valentine’s Day King. He’d chalked up thirty votes out of the fifty-two that had been cast. Now they were counting the votes for Valentine’s Day Queen, and there were many more of them. It was pretty obvious that the boys had purchased more cards than the girls.
Gail unfolded another red heart, and frowned as she read the name inside. “Here we go again. It’s another vote for Tanya.”
“That figures.” Colleen sighed as she verified the vote. “Chalk up another one for Tanya. How many does that make, Amy?”
“Fifteen. Out of twenty. You’ve got one, Gail’s got one, Jessica’s got one, and Michele’s got two.”
“Here’s one for you, Amy.” Gail unfolded another red heart.
“For me?” Amy looked astounded. “Who’d vote for me?”
Colleen grabbed the heart-shaped ballot out of Gail’s hand. “Let me see. I know everybody’s handwriting.”
“Yes?” Amy held her breath. She hoped the vote had been cast by Brett.
“I don’t know. It’s printed. And that means it could be anybody. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer, Amy.”
“Oh, sure.” Amy sighed. “It’s probably from your brother and you made him do it.”
Colleen shook her head. “No, it’s not. Danny had to go to the dentist at eleven this morning, and he’s not back yet. He missed lunch and that’s when they sold the cards.”
“Are you sure it’s not from Danny?”
“I’m positive. Somebody else must have voted for you.”
Amy began to grin as she turned back to her tally sheet and put a check mark by her own name. Even though the skies outside were still gray, it made the whole day seem much brighter. Someone had actually cast a vote for her! Maybe Colleen was right and she did have a secret admirer. She just wished she knew who he was.