Page 39 of Lonely Hearts Day

Back on my paper, I saw that I had been drawing hearts. They stretched from the top of my page to the bottom.

“It was a mistake.” The voice had my eyes darting back to the front of the room.

Jack stood there, holding a rose and staring at me, reciting a poem. He was tall and handsome. His hair was extra voluminous today, and he was wearing new glasses that brought out his hazel eyes. His cheeks were pink from embarrassment and yet he kept speaking.

I made a lot of them.

When it came to me and you.

I expected you to read my mind,

Like you always did.

It was unfair and unaware and underhanded.

I often was

When it came to me and you.

You expected me to be brave;

I never was.

You were incessant and invincible and infectious

You often were

When it came to me and you.

We expected to never spend time apart,

But we did.

It was excruciating and exhausting and extreme.

It sometimes was,

When it came to me and you.

I expect that in the end

It will always come back to me and you.

I hope it always does.

I was biting the inside of my cheeks. I didn’t realize this until a metallic taste filled my mouth. I released the grip and blinked several times because my eyes were stinging as well.

Jack walked to my desk and placed the rose in front of me. The poem attached to it was in his handwriting. I wanted to say something. Likeit was supposed to be a terrible poem. OrI don’t believe you read that in front of the whole class. But my lips wouldn’t move. My face was numb and my limbs were frozen.

The guy in the seat next to me broke the silence with “That was way better than the other poem.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said in a barely audible voice.

“Me too,” I said.

And then he was gone. When the door shut, I shot out of my seat.

“Sit down, Miss Landry,” Mr. Collins said. “I have a class to teach. There have already been entirely too many interruptions.”