Chapter 42

"The great charm of all power is modesty."

Louisa May Alcott

Bright, red hearts and champagne roses. Pale-pink cards and satin ribbons. Caramel-covered, heart-shaped chocolates and nutella-covered strawberries. Candle-lit dinners in a dark room with a loved one. Sentimental notes written in cursive with a silver bracelet placed in a tiny, ink-black box.

Yes, Valentines Day is quickly approaching.

The sun's scorching rays, beam on window panes and forest-green grass sways slightly. The ocean-blue sky dazzles as I crane my neck up, in order to watch the pearl-white clouds gradually levitate above the horizon of glass buildings. Pastel-red butterflies flutter their wings whilst the mockingjay sings it's delightful tune, the high notes resonating. Robins sit on light-brown branches, its red heart capturing my curiosity. Children pedal their mint-green bikes, their laughter bringing a smile to my face.

Resting against the wall of a narrow alleyway, two girls blow bubbles, the metallic purples and yellows glistening on the surface. Leisurely, the bubbles float away before disappearing, a faint pop the only reminder they've left behind. Gasps escape the lips of the innocent kids that stand on the tip of their toes, eager to catch the scarce quantities of those that remain. Giggling at their integrity, I clutch my school bag, a spring in each step.

Although today is beautiful and in itself, wholesome, I can't avoid the bile rising at the back of my throat and the anxiety that causes my heart to ache. As I mentioned before, Valentines Day is right round the corner and by that, I mean it's a days away.

Aside from art, I've always been quite talented in baking. Specifically making minor treats, for instance cake, muffins, cookies and chocolates.

Especially chocolates.

Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate.

Semi-sweet, bitter-sweat, unsweetened, candy-coated. I can make all these without fail.

I am thankful that I possess this useful attribute. I mean after all, it is quite fun and I don't have to spend money on the pricey chocolates when I can easily make my own. However, this year is inevitably without a doubt, the most important Valentines Day of all.

This is my first Valentines Day with Wyatt.

And Red, I can't forget Red.

Of course, they are my best and only friends. Therefore, I have to make sure that my gift is immaculate, no mistakes. I'm going to make it my mission to study that recipe, to make sure that I provide the best for my friends. Besides, they've given me something incredibly valuable; they've given me compassion and I can't degrade that wonderful act of kindness, nor disregard it.

Unfortunately, the perfect boy has multiple girls already willing to compete for his affection. Often at break, Wyatt is bombarded with questions such as: 'what's your favourite sweets?' or 'do you think flowers are too corny?' I would make a great effort to try an memorise the answer, occasionally taking notes.

Being the polite person he is, he answered their inquiries, yet I noticed that something was wrong. His eyes were clouded in melancholy and his smile was artificial. Whenever his eyes squinted when he was laughing, whenever he was enthusiastic,  Wyatt appeared as if it was a stage production, not his life.

It was like there was one person in particular who he wanted to ask those questions. It was like he was waiting for the right girl to make those inquiries.

"Is it me?" I thought. "Do you want me to give you chocolates and flowers? Do you want me to shower you with gifts?"

Sadly, I was always contradicted by doubts. Doubts that took the form of Heather Marie.

Day one went something along the lines of this:

"You should just stop whilst you're at it," she sniggered. "He'd never accept anything from you! He needs a beautiful girl, one that will compliment him in all aspects."

I was walking home on a Friday. Red was at athletes club and Wyatt had joined a few weeks prior, so I was alone, contemplating my weekend. Quickly, I realised I was being followed and turned around to find the mean queen herself.

Same red, fiery hair, blue eyes, elegance and frown.

The only reason why I stopped to tolerate her was because one, I didn't want this girl to know where I live and two, I absolutely didn't want her to know that Wyatt lived right next to me.

Meaning, I had no choice than to listen to her.

Great.

"I have no interest in Wyatt," I lied. "Stop bothering me."

Shoving me, she then gritted her teeth and with the tilt of her head, said:

"Stay out of my way, got it?"

"I wasn't even in your way to begin with," I stated, rolling my eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!" She warned.

"Don't give me a reason to!" I retaliated, my hands flailing around.

Scoffing, Heather flipped her hair, ready to deliver her final blow.

"He doesn't like you," she whispered. "He only feels sorry for you, just like the rest of us."

With that, Heather strutted away and I assumed that was the end of it.

"He needs a beautiful girl, someone who will compliment him in all aspects."

"Does that mean we're complimentary?"

Day two's occurrences happened as mentioned in the following:

"Valentina, are you planning anything for Wyatt? Well if you are, don't because he's most likely preparing something for me. So cancel whatever you're doing and just give into the fact that you're..."

Heather then gestured to my body, with a disapproving snarl.

"Do I even have to say it?"

Gym glass, last period. I was waiting for Serenity, due to the fact that I did not trust her with Coach Sanders. Outside the girls' changing room, I was quietly minding my own business when a shadow loomed over me. Looking up from my phone screen, I came face to face with a familiar figure.

"Excuse me?" Was all I could muster as she proceeded to rant.

"It's for the best, sweetie. I'm saving you from embarrassment! I'd though you had enough of that in your life," she smirked, resting a hand on my shoulder.

Removing this unwanted being from my personal space, I then replied with:

"Don't worry, I'm big enough to take care of myself, sweetie."

"I can see that you're big enough. I mean, come on, anyone can spot you from a mile away! You're fat, Valentina. F-A-T..."

"I'm glad you can spell," growled Serenity, bursting through the door, "but I'd rather you leave. I'm guessing your last brain cells probably need to rest after that moment of 'intelligence' you just had."

"No one called you, get lost," Heather demanded.

Turning to me, Serenity asked:

"Hey Valentina, do you know why only 10% of rubbish makes it to the bin?"

"W-why?" I stuttered, utterly confused as to where this is going.

"Because 90% of it's standing here talking to us."

Laughing, I said:

"Are you sure it's not 100%?"

Taking a step towards Serenity, Heather furrowed her eye brows, frown plastered on her face.

"Why are you trying to disrespect me?"

"Why are you ugly, fake and friendless?"

At this point, Heather was bright red.

"You see, there are certain things that are obvious but we shouldn't go round saying them, should we?" Serenity questioned in a patronising tone.

"Forget you," the mean queen scowled, ambling away.

"My middle finger salutes you because nothing brightens my life like your absence," I heard Serenity mumble.

Staring at her wide eyed, she then hastily muttered:

"No, I promise I wasn't insulting her! I was just... describing her, that's all."

Day three was the most depressing of all.

And this time, she didn't even talk to me:

Clearing out my school bag at the end of the day, I came across my pencil case. Inside was a note that read...

"Last chance to back out, Valentina. What do you say?"

Th fact that she had even bothered to write and put this in my bag showed how passionate she really was about keeping me away from her ex. Shaking my head, I tore it up and tossed it in the bin where she, I mean it, belonged.

That brings us to today.

A day before the grand finale.

I wonder how it'll go down.