"There will be others." There weren't.
I'm pretty sure I was in 7th grade, 3rd period when I got my very first, and last secret admirer Valentine. It was a hand-cut red paper heart. It said, "I like who sits here 3rd period." The name had been painted over in White-Out. I felt like I was in a movie. I scanned the room to see if anyone was making eye contact with me. No one was. How stealth! I stared at the chalkboard smothered in Ancient Greek history and cobbled together who my admirer must be. I didn't really have a crush on anyone, so I looked at the facts: he was creative since he made his own Valentine, mysterious because he managed to put it on my desk without anyone else seeing, and looked like Elijah Wood because at 12 years old, that's the only person in the movies I thought was attractive.
"Who's that from?" My neighbor asked.
"I don't know," I said softly, imagining Elijah Wood appearing in the doorway and whisking me off to a tree house like the one in the Kevin Costner vehicle, The War. My junior high love life was free to dream, all thanks to this paper red heart.
Then came lunchtime, where I was approached by Mackabee Maloney. I didn't know much about Mackabee, except that his parents were older than regular parents, he had very red lips, and in 7th grade, had an extreme fondness for Yo-Yo Ma. This was not Elijah Wood.
For some reason I thought, because he had a webbed toe, he'd understand me.
"I wrote your valentine," he said quietly. "I heard you liked it."
"Yes, I did," I admitted in defeat. "I liked it very much."
"Would you like to go out sometime?" He offered. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help acknowledging how nice it was that he asked me outright instead of say, prank calling my house impersonating the Monopoly Man as one gentleman caller had done previously that semester. I said yes.
We agreed to meet in the library the next day. This was mostly because at the age of 12 the locations for a date were limited but also because I knew none of my friends cared much for the library. It's not that they were stupid or hated books, but in junior high the library at lunchtime was used primarily for either story time for the learning disabled or dealing drugs.
The next day I showed up to school and quickly found out two things: 1. Mackabee Maloney was wearing a suit, and 2. Everyone was talking about it.
"Did you see Mackabee? He looks like he's going to a wedding," said one kid.
"It looks like he's going to a funeral!" said another.
"Maybe you should leave him alone or whatever," I said. However, it may have come out as just, "...whatever."
I didn't tell anyone I knew why Mackabee was wearing the suit. Instead when lunch came, I quietly made a beeline for the library, hoping I wouldn't spot anyone I knew, which of course I did. Sasha saw me. Sasha was cool because she used Nair and went to music festivals like Wango Tango unsupervised. She saw me right about the time I spotted Mackabee, waiting outside the library in his suit patiently looking straight ahead as if he were waiting for a bus. Sasha began talking my ear off about boys, or shoes or clothes, about how "nothing's cool" or how "everything's retarded" when we approached the library.
"Why are we going in here?" She asked.
"Just wanted to check out if Govi's still selling Ritalin," I stammered as Sasha and I walked right passed Mackabee and into the library. I felt bad, but I figured if I walked past him without saying a word, he'd get the hint and walk away and still have time to line up for $1 pizza. But he didn't walk away. Instead he followed us right in, as if this were the plan all along.