Now that I was hell-bent on Daniel being my secret admirer, all signs pointed glaringly, neon-brightly, obviously to him.

The next morning at school, I casually hung around my locker a little longer than I needed to, pretending to rummage around for a book while I waited for Daniel to show up. When he did, I looked at him with new eyes. And it wasn’t a pretty picture.

Daniel was one of those boys whose hair always looked dirty. Not cute-rock-boy dirty, but like, no-shower-because-I-am-yucky dirty. His hair was a little long and hung greasily in front of his eyes. It was also dyed black. (Daniel’s a natural redhead.) Tall and awkward, he always looked like he was in danger of falling over. And he wore T-shirts with dragons printed on them. In other words: pure hotness.

He stopped in front of his locker and caught me staring at him. Uh-oh. Before I could react, he quickly averted his eyes and in the process dropped his backpack on the floor. This made him reach down quickly and knock into a girl on his left. She threw him a dirty look and said, “Watch it, dork.” He turned bright red, mumbled an apology, and kind of ran off down the hallway.

Well.

I just stood there feeling pretty proud of myself. Daniel was totally my secret admirer — why else would he be so flustered? Now, the question was, how would I let him down? Valentine’s Day was the next day and I had to stop things before he embarrassed himself. I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but really, Daniel Milford and me? I don’t think so.

My opportunity came during fifth period: World History. Daniel was in my class, and I planned to drop some subtle hints his way.

Everyone was milling around and talking when I got to class. I looked at the clock. Five minutes. That would be plenty of time.

Daniel was sitting at his desk, playing some game on his cell phone. Without being too creepy, I walked over to him and kind of hovered.

“Um. Eh-hem. Hey, Daniel.”

Without moving his eyes from the cell phone screen, he quietly replied, “Yeah?”

I sat down at the desk next to his. Poor guy — in a couple minutes I was going to crush his heart.

“How are things going?” I asked with what I hoped was compassion in my voice.

This made him look up. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, he looked at me with what looked like panic. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I mean. What’s up?” I asked, a little less smooth than before. I started getting nervous. Did I want to do this after all? What if I should give him a chance? Or what if it wasn’t him at all?

Daniel put his phone down and kind of twitched. “Uh, nothing. What’s up with you, Holly?”

He said my name! Totally thoughtful admirer behavior. Okay, here goes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m kind of annoyed actually. I think I have like, a stalker or something.” I said this with nonchalance, carefully watching his reaction.

He furrowed his brow slightly, and then asked with concern, “Really? Is it serious?”

Hm. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. “Well, I mean, I’m not sure. He keeps leaving me creepy valentines and stuff. Like, poems.”

This was it. I waited to see something register. Instead he put his hand on my arm and asked, “Are they harassing or threatening in nature?”

What the! This was not going as planned. “No, they’re not threatening or anything. I mean, don’t you think it’s creepy? Would you ever leave someone a poem without signing your name?”

This was it. My eyes bore into his. And, aha! He was turning bright red as he took his hand back. “Um, well. I mean …”

I tried to smile compassionately again. “Daniel. It’s okay, I won’t force you to say it. But yeah, I know all about it.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yes. I mean … duh. I just, I don’t know how to tell you this but —”

“Does this mean Isabel knows, too?”

I paused. Excuse me?

“Isabel? What are you talking about?”

He clunked his forehead onto the desk dramatically. “Isabel! I know you guys work on the paper together. Does she know I’ve been sending her those anonymous e-mails?”

“WHAT are you talking about?!”

“What are you talking about?! Aren’t you here to confront me about my crush on Isabel?”

My mouth dropped. Oh. Crap.

“Oh … yeah, of course. Uh …” I trailed off, my face turning red this time.

He looked at me pleadingly. “Please, please don’t say anything. I was going to tell her at the Valentine’s Day dance. I know she’s a junior, so I don’t have a chance. But maybe?”

I looked at his hopeful face and felt a lump in my throat. “No, of course not. Don’t worry about it, man. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Then I ran back to my seat, on the verge of tears for some reason. I felt humiliated and … disappointed?

The rest of class went by in a mortifying blur, and when the bell rang I booked it out of there with lightning speed. I got to my locker and stood there with my head bent into it, digesting what just happened, when I heard the loud, excited voices of two girls next to me.

“Oh my God!” one of them squealed. “Guess who just asked me to the Valentine’s Day dance?!”

“Who-ooh?” the other girl asked with rabid anticipation.

“Matthew Reynolds!”

Screeching ensued from both parties.

I froze, then pulled my face out of my locker nonchalantly and peeked to see who these girls were. Expecting to see some drop-dead gorgeous Amazonian freak from the volleyball team or something, my jaw almost dropped when I saw that it was this girl I really liked — Serena Mishimoto. She was a super talented artist and the teacher’s assistant for David’s art class. She always looked so cool with her choppy, blue-streaked hair and skintight black jeans.

I did not know this was Matthew’s type. Although she looked like a model herself, Serena wasn’t exactly a girl who fit into his group of douchebaggery friends. And who knew that she would be the type to squeal when a boy asked her out?

Then I realized that Serena and her friend were laughing. And not in a nice way.

“God, so what did you tell him?”

Serena scrunched up her nose. “I mean, what could I say? I was all, ‘Ummm, I have plans that night.’” They both started cracking up and walked away.

Well, what do you know? Matthew Reynolds doesn’t get everything he wants. Why did I feel so bad for him? Valentine’s Day was proving to undermine the best of us.

* * *

After school the next day, Valentine’s Day, David and I were sitting on the front steps of the school. He tossed a box of Sweethearts to me. I caught them with an “ewww” before I ripped into the box and read a lavender one that said “You wish.” I snickered and tossed one to him that said “No.”

While silently munching on the chalky candy, I thought about the three valentines sitting in my locker. The last one was delivered this morning:

Would I ever find out who it was? I snuck a glance at David, who was stretched out with his feet propped up on his skateboard — apparently without a care in the world.

Liz and Carrie walked up to us, each carrying a red rose. David and I recoiled at the sight of them.

“The hell are you guys carrying?” I asked, scooting away from them.

Liz pointed the offensive rose toward my face. “These are our Valentine’s gifts to our Valentines — you two!”

David got up to run away from Carrie’s rose and she chased after him, smacking his butt with it every so often.

I took the rose from Liz. “Well, although I am morally opposed to this sorta thing, thanks.”

She sat down next to me. “So, any more clues?” she asked in a low voice.

I watched Carrie and David take turns batting each other with their rose — petals flying everywhere. “Nope. And in all honesty, I don’t even want to know anymore. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to be ready to reveal himself anyway.” I looked at Liz in her cute Valentine’s Day outfit: hot-pink shorts paired with a gray-and-white polka-dot cotton shirt. “What about you? Did you figure out if you’re going to the dance tonight?”

Liz smiled slyly. “I decided to throw someone a bone.”

“Who?”

“David’s friend Steve.”

“Pardon?”

Liz laughed. “I know, I know. But I actually thought about what you guys said. I can’t be this picky. Plus, he’s sweet. And … I want to wear a new dress, damn it!”

I smiled. “Well, I think that’s nice. But, you know, just don’t wear heels. Ha!” She hit me on the arm.

Carrie and David ran back up to us, both out of breath with red rose petals stuck in their hair. I started laughing. “Who needs Valentines with you weirdos around?”