Stacey and the Stolen Hearts

by Ann M. Martin

  “Um, sure,” I said. There was no denying that the poem included every romantic cliché I’d ever heard.

  “I wrote it myself,” Rose Marie told me proudly. “Well, actually, some of it came from this card my aunt sent me last year, and I found some of it in an old book of poems I bought at the library’s book sale. Have you ever been to their book sale? It’s the best. And some of it’s from a song my dad used to sing when I was a little girl —” Rose Marie paused for breath.

  “Well, it’s a great poem,” I said, trying to cut her off gently. Rambling Rose was at it again. I’ve never met anyone who can talk as much, or as quickly, as Rose Marie.

  Rose Marie and her boyfriend, Brian Hall, met through the school newspaper’s personal ads, back when Claudia was in charge of that column. They’ve turned out to be a great pair — or at least that’s what I’d always thought. I began to wonder how well things were going with them when I saw the stack of valentine-grams Rose Marie handed me after she’d spent practically her whole lunch hour at the table. She must have copied that poem over a dozen times. She handed me a pile of dollar bills and, with a cheery good-bye, left me to sort through her valentine-grams before adding them to the bag.

  I noticed something strange right away. Not one was addressed to Brian.

  Meanwhile, I should mention that Brian came by at the end of my shift and bought one valentine-gram, which he sent to Rose Marie.

  “You learn a lot working here,” I said to Pete when he showed up to take the bag to his locker. (He’d keep it there until the after-school shift, which he was covering.)

  “No kidding,” he said. “Like, can you believe that girls have been sending valentine-grams to Alan Gray?”

  “Really?” I asked. I hadn’t noticed that.

  Pete nodded. “One of them is in Cokie’s handwriting,” he whispered, grinning. “Or at least I think it is.”

  Very interesting.

  Another interesting thing? How nervous some boys seemed about the valentine-grams. Including Pete. Several times when we were working together I saw him acting all jumpy around one girl or another who had come to the table. Jim Poirier, a guy in our grade, seemed to be giving Pete a hard time about it. I overheard Pete telling him to cut it out. Boys can be so mean.

  Robert was another boy who couldn’t seem to deal with the valentine-grams. More than once I looked up to see him hovering around the area, but he never worked up the courage to actually approach the table. Was it the idea of Valentine’s Day that he couldn’t deal with? Or was it me? I’d learned a lot about human nature, and about my classmates, but Robert’s behavior was a big mystery. And not just to me. As I was closing up shop for the day on Wednesday, Andi Gentile appeared and slipped me a note.

  I couldn’t imagine why Andi wanted to talk to me about Robert. After all, she knows better than anyone that he and I broke up. And she knows that I know about the two of them seeing each other before he and I had called it quits.

  Andi and I were never best friends. For a while, when I was first going out with Robert, I hung out with Andi and some of her friends. I thought they were sophisticated, more mature than my BSC friends. I feel ashamed of myself now, when I remember the way I turned my back on Mary Anne, Kristy, and the others in order to be part of that crowd. I hurt my friends badly, and though they were able to forgive me, I doubt they’ll ever forget. I know I won’t.

  I also won’t forget how badly my supposed new friends ended up treating me. They used me as a pawn in a shoplifting scheme, for one thing. And they brought liquor to a concert and got us all into trouble. Andi wasn’t involved in those episodes, but Jacqui Grant was, along with a couple of other girls I no longer speak to.

  Anyway, even though Andi and I were once friends, I can’t say that we are now. I don’t hate her, but I definitely don’t trust her.

  Still, I was curious. I’d been concerned about Robert, and I wondered what, if anything, Andi knew about what was going on with him.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked when I called her that night. I think it’s clear to Andi how I feel, so I didn’t waste time with a lot of phony “Hi, how are you?” stuff.

  Andi hesitated. “Could we talk, um, in person?”

  “Sure,” I answered, a little disappointed. My curiosity wasn’t going to be satisfied right away. “Just tell me where and when.”

  “How about before homeroom tomorrow? By the back entrance?”

  “Fine,” I agreed. “I’ll be there.” Pete was planning to cover the morning shift at our table, so I’d be free.

  It’s funny. I’m over Robert. But every time I think about him kissing Andi and Andi kissing him while he was still supposedly my boyfriend, I feel angry all over again. I mean, I knew at the time that Robert and I weren’t going to last forever, or even for very much longer, but still. They could have had the decency to wait.

  I didn’t sleep well that night.

  Which meant using a little extra concealer to cover up the circles under my eyes in the morning, some blush to make me look alert and happy, and a touch of lip gloss to keep me smiling. Ah, the wonders of makeup. Without it, I’d have to face Andi looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

  Andi was waiting for me when I arrived. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi, Stacey,” she answered. “Thanks for coming.” She looked down at her feet. “I know we’re not the best of friends,” she began, after a long pause.

  I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? She was right.

  “I mean, I know you have every reason to dislike me, or distrust me,” she went on. I had a feeling she hadn’t slept too well either. She must have been busy preparing this little speech. I gave her a closer look. Yup. She’d been using her under-eye concealer too.

  “Look, Andi, forget it. Just tell me what’s on your mind.” I didn’t intend to sound mean or impatient, but I think it may have come out that way. Andi looked crushed. “It’s about Robert, right?” I asked. “What is it?”

  “It’s just that I’m worried about him,” she began, finally. “I’ve tried sending him notes. I’ve tried talking to him. But I just can’t seem to reach him.” She paused. “Have you noticed how down he seems lately?”

  I nodded.

  “He barely says hello to me in the halls,” she said. “And he even seems out of it when he’s with his friends. You know?”

  I nodded again. So Andi had seen the same behavior I had. “But what can I do?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve been concerned too, but —”

  “I thought you could talk to him,” she said. “You know him much better than I do. In fact, you probably know him better than anyone in school.”

  My mind flashed over some of the special times I’d shared with Robert: Our first date at the coffee shop. How he called me Toots. The way we danced together, and the way I felt when he held my hand. Or when we kissed.

  “Stacey?” asked Andi.

  “Oh — right,” I said, coming out of my daydream. “I guess I do. Know him, I mean. I think I know him pretty well, in fact.”

  “So, could you talk to him?” asked Andi. “Try to find out what’s wrong. I know he’ll open up to you.”

  I wasn’t so sure. But I was willing to try, and I told Andi so. She looked relieved. “Why do you care so much, anyway?” I asked. “Do you still like him?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” she assured me. “It’s just, well, you know Robert. He’s a great guy, and even though it’s over between us, I haven’t stopped caring about him.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, giving Andi a smile. “I definitely know what you mean.”

  Just then, the bell rang for homeroom. “Thanks, Stacey,” Andi called as we headed off in opposite directions.

  “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it,” I said, “but don’t expect too much.”

  During homeroom, I thought about Robert. The fact was, I felt the same way Andi did. Even though our romance was over, I still cared about him. So talking to him
was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Sure it was.

  But it wasn’t so easy.

  I spent the rest of that day keeping an eye out for Robert. I watched for him in the halls between classes. I cruised by his locker, oh, about five gazillion times. And at lunchtime, I lingered in the cafeteria line, hoping to run into him there. No such luck.

  Naturally, the only time I saw him was when I didn’t have time to talk. I was rushing out to relieve Pete at the valentine-gram table, so he could grab some lunch, when I spotted Robert sitting with his friends at a table in the corner of the cafeteria. As usual, the guys were laughing and carrying on — but once again, Robert seemed out of it.

  While I was watching, Jacqui and her friend Sheila approached the table. There was no way I could hear what Jacqui was saying over the usual lunchroom noise-a-thon. But her body language made it perfectly clear: the way she held her head to one side, the way she smiled, the way she swayed from one foot to the other.

  She was flirting.

  Big-time.

  I could read Robert’s body language too: the folded arms, the lack of eye contact, the frown.

  Here’s what it said: “Bug off.”

  Even Jacqui couldn’t miss the signals. She heard him loud and clear. She turned on her heel and practically stomped off, dragging Sheila behind her. I wondered if Robert could sense her frustration as well as I could.

  I tried to catch Robert’s eye. I gave him a little wave as I left the room, but I couldn’t tell if he’d seen me. I didn’t stop to find out either. I mean, I do care about Robert, but I wasn’t going to chase him down.

  After that, I didn’t see Robert all day. I was busy with either the valentine-gram table or classes until the bell rang. After I’d visited my locker, I met up with Pete for our last valentine-gram session. There was a big crowd around the table by the time I arrived.

  I peeked into the Gap bag and whistled. “This is turning out to be a great fund-raiser.”

  “And a great opportunity for all of us incurable romantics,” I heard someone say. I turned to see Clarence King, the last person I would have used those words to describe, grinning at me. “King,” as they call him (mainly because he’d cream anyone who called him Clarence), is your basic big, swaggering guy. He used to give Logan a hard time about being a member of the BSC. In King’s world, boys don’t baby-sit.

  But I guess they do send valentine-grams, since Clarence was just finishing one up. He sealed it, addressed it, and stuffed it into the bag before I could see who it was for.

  Plenty of other “romantics” showed up that afternoon, including Ben Hobart, who sent a valentine-gram to Mal. I was glad to see him, since I knew Mal had spent some time writing one to Ben.

  Pete, thankfully, dealt with Cokie, who drifted by looking for Brent. Once again, I almost felt sorry for her when Pete informed her that no, he hadn’t seen Brent all day.

  Jacqui came by right after Cokie had left. Ignoring me, she flirted with Pete while she paid for and wrote out a quick valentine-gram. I had to wonder if she was really after Robert or if she just liked flirting in general.

  Our next customer? Alan Gray. “How can we help you today, sir?” I asked, putting on my best salesperson act.

  “I, um, actually,” he began nervously, looking over my shoulder, “I was wondering …”

  His voice was so low I had to lean forward to hear what he was saying. Jim Poirier had approached Pete and was teasing him about something again, but I tuned him out in order to listen to Alan. “What is it?” I asked. Alan seemed dead serious for once, and very jittery.

  “Could … could I have one of my valentine-grams back?” he asked finally.

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Never mind.” He slipped away.

  Rambling Rose returned and nervously wrote “one last message.”

  Meanwhile, Pete stood up. “Stacey, I have to go,” he said. “There are only a few minutes left. Can you handle things here?”

  Rose Marie had finally finished. I looked around and saw that the hall was almost empty. The buses must have left, and most kids had headed home. “Sure,” I said. “I have a few valentine-grams to write anyway.” I’d just realized that I’d forgotten to send valentine-grams to my BSC friends. Pete took off and I started writing.

  I was just finishing the last one when something made me look up. There was Robert, standing right in front of me. I pushed the final valentine-gram into the bag. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” said Robert, looking serious. Finally, the moment had arrived. School was over, and the building was nearly empty. It was time to talk.

  “Hey, am I too late?” asked Austin Bentley, appearing suddenly at the front of the table.

  I sighed and held up one finger to Robert. “Just a sec,” I mouthed. I turned to help Austin. He wrote out his valentine-gram and paid me. I put away his money and gathered up his valentine-gram plus a few others that had been scattered on the table. Then I looked up to tell Robert I was almost done.

  But he was gone.

  I sighed. Oh, well. If he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to talk. What could I do?

  I started to put those last few valentine-grams into the bag.

  But I couldn’t.

  Because the bag wasn’t there.

  Kristy was upset, there was no doubt about it. And who could blame her? Here she was, with this terrific idea for Valentine’s Day, something that would make the holiday a fun and happy one for everyone. She’d done her homework, talking to the staff of the children’s room at the Stoneybrook Public Library about the idea of creating a festival. Ms. Feld, the children’s librarian, loved the idea. We had set up a meeting to discuss the details, and meanwhile we thought we’d start spreading the word to our charges.

  Kristy, who was sitting for the Hobarts on Thursday afternoon, couldn’t wait to see what they thought. She’d gathered the three younger Hobart boys (Ben was at a soccer game) and sat them down in the family room. For a second, Kristy wondered if Valentine’s Day was celebrated in Australia. Maybe the boys didn’t even know what it was all about. She might have to start out by explaining how the holiday began and what it had come to mean.

  “I hate Valentine’s Day,” declared Johnny, interrupting Kristy’s train of thought. At four, he’s the youngest of the Hobart brothers. All four boys have reddish-blond hair and constellations of freckles scattered across their noses and cheeks. They also have the most endearing accents. At first we sometimes found it hard to understand what the Hobart boys were saying, but by now we’ve adjusted, as long as they don’t use too many of their Australian slang terms such as “bonzer” (Australian for “cool”). Anyway, Kristy had no trouble deciphering his message, especially because it was accompanied by a huge scowl.

  Kristy was just about to answer Johnny with the news that this Valentine’s Day was going to be different, when James spoke up.

  “So do I,” he said, with a scowl that matched Johnny’s.

  Interesting, thought Kristy. She squashed the impulse to jump right in and tell the boys about the festival. Maybe it would make more sense to find out what the kids didn’t like about Valentine’s Day. That way, she’d have a better chance of planning an event that would make them happy.

  “How about you, Mathew?” she asked. “How do you feel about Valentine’s Day?”

  Mathew blushed, a deep scarlet obscuring every one of his freckles. “I — I don’t know,” he said. “I think it’s kind of scary.”

  Scary? Kristy didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to press Mathew. He already looked as if he might be about to burst into tears.

  Instead, she turned back to Johnny. “Why do you hate Valentine’s Day?” she asked him. It was hard to imagine how a four-year-old could have such strong negative feelings about a holiday.

  “Because,” said Johnny, sticking out his bottom lip, “I’m not in school yet. That means I won’t get any valentines at all. Except maybe one from Mum.” H
e made a face. “And James and Mathew and Ben will come home with bucketloads of cards. And they have cupcakes at lunchtime and candy hearts and everything.” He scowled again and folded his arms over his chest.

  Kristy felt a pang. She suddenly remembered what it had been like to be the younger sibling when her older brothers were in school and she wasn’t. She’d been jealous of anything they brought home, even if it were something they were complaining about, such as homework. She knew it couldn’t be easy for Johnny, being the youngest of four. She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

  “And you, James?” she asked. “What don’t you like about Valentine’s Day?”

  He blushed, though not as deeply as Mathew had. “Oh, it’s silly,” he said.

  “You can tell me,” Kristy replied. “I promise not to laugh or tell anyone else.” She crossed her heart.

  “Well,” began James shyly. “There’s this girl —”

  “Woooo!” His brothers collapsed into giggles.

  James looked helplessly at Kristy.

  “Ignore them,” she said. “Go on.”

  “It’s just that I want to send her a card, but I can’t find the right one. I’ve looked in all the stores, and nothing seems right. They’re all too — too something. Some are all goopy, and some are too serious, and some are just too dumb.”

  “I know what you mean,” Kristy said sympathetically.

  “It’s not like I’m in love with this girl or anything,” James insisted. “I just think she’s nice, and I’d like to be friends.”

  His brothers started “woo-ing” again.

  Kristy tuned them out. She was thinking. It was a real eye-opener to hear what the boys thought about Valentine’s Day. And if the Hobart boys felt this way, the chances were that other kids did too. She decided to find out. “Hey, guys,” she said, “how about if we head over to see the Pikes? I’d like to find out what they think about Valentine’s Day. And I happen to know they’re home, because my friend is baby-sitting for them.”