by Rob Buyea
I thought it was the dumbest holiday on the calendar. But it gave Meggie something to do for a few afternoons. She took her time making these fancy homemade cards. I liked hers a whole lot better than the cartoon and movie ones they sold in the stores, but I felt bad for her ’cause I knew she’d end up with a bunch of those in her box. Megs didn’t care. The making part was what she liked best anyway.
When her big day finally rolled around, Meggie was up early. I figured it was ’cause she was excited, but turns out she wanted to see Dad before he left for work. She had a card for him, too. Call me soft, but I thought that was so sweet. And then I found out the card wasn’t from her.
“Mommy wanted me to give this to you on Valentine’s Day if she wasn’t here with us.”
Dad took the envelope and held it. “Thank you,” he said, and gave Megs a kiss on the head. Then he put his coffee cup on the counter and walked off without a word.
We stood there and watched him go down the hall and into his bedroom. I turned to my sister. “What was on the card?”
Meggie shrugged. “I don’t know. Mommy had it sealed in the envelope.”
I groaned, frustrated.
“Let’s go see,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me along. We tried being quiet so Dad wouldn’t know we were coming, but Otis and quiet didn’t go together. The dog’s excited breathing was louder than our footsteps. There was no way to shut him up, so I pushed him to the back of our line. That was the best I could do. When we got to the end of the hallway, we stopped and slowly peeked in on Dad. I wasn’t ready for what I saw.
He was on his hands and knees, hunched over something on the floor. He had his back to us, and his body was shaking. I didn’t need to see his face to know he was crying. I’d never seen my old man cry before. It scared me.
Otis didn’t like waiting or being left out, so the next thing I knew, he was knocking us out of the way and plodding into the bedroom. It was too late. There was nothing I could do to stop him. I watched our dog stick his big blockhead in Dad’s face and start licking him. When Dad wrapped his arms around Otis and squeezed, I had to fight back my own tears. Me and Megs weren’t the only ones missing Mom.
Then, just as suddenly as everything else that had happened so far, Dad got up and came walking toward us. He didn’t even care that we’d been spying on him. He threw his arms around me and Meggie. “That’s from Mom,” he whispered. He held us tight, and in another sudden move he let go and walked out of the house. I didn’t know if he had an early appointment or if he was going for a lonesome drive, but he was gone.
Otis barked. I tried ignoring him, but that didn’t work. Ruff! Ruff!
“What dog? What!” I yelled.
“He wants to show us something,” Meggie said.
I followed her into Dad’s bedroom. Otis got down next to the thing on the floor that Dad had been looking at.
“Okay, boy. Okay,” I said, patting his head. “What is it?”
I looked. It was an album full of sketches from Mom. She had given Dad a homemade Valentine’s Day card for every year they’d been together. They were all there. It was a secret tradition of theirs that I’d known nothing about. Suddenly Valentine’s Day wasn’t so dumb anymore.
Mom was really good at drawing. I’d seen some of her quick sketches before, but these were serious. I smiled. Guess I knew where my talent came from.
Meggie turned the pages until we found this year’s card. Mom had sketched a bunch of fancy letter people, and they were hugging. The letters R, E, A, and D were together. It was cute. The part that got me—and Dad, too, I was sure—was her written message. You’ll always be with me, no matter where I am. Hug Gavin and Meggie. I love you.
An album full of cards, and this was the first one where she’d written a note. If only she’d learned to do this sooner. Maybe then…I shook my head. Those thoughts weren’t gonna help.
“Don’t worry, Gavvy. I sent the judge my card,” Meggie said.
“It was a Valentine?”
“Yup. I had Mrs. Kurtsman deliver it for me.”
I pulled her into a playful side headlock. “C’mon,” I said. “We’ve gotta get breakfast. And don’t you worry. I’ll take your bus to school so you don’t have to be alone this morning. I can walk to the middle school from the elementary building.”
“Thanks, Gavvy,” she said, and smiled.
So I’d be late. I didn’t care. I owed Megs. She’d just given me newfound hope, ’cause if there was one thing I knew, it was that Meggie’s superpower was her ability to melt hearts.
NATALIE KURTSMAN
ASPIRING LAWYER
Kurtsman Law Offices
BRIEF #19
February: Happy Valentine’s Day
I stopped paying attention to February 14 after kindergarten. Back then I was mildly amused by the exchanging of cards, but I quickly outgrew that. How my first-grade classmates could continue to find ninja turtles, superheroes, and princesses exciting was beyond me. I did appreciate the effort of handmade cards as a nice gesture. But after second grade, I stopped participating in the event altogether. To be frank, it was quite simply far too childish for me.
Needless to say, Valentine’s was a day of no significance, a day I gave little thought—until this year, when I opened my locker and a red card fell off my top shelf and floated to the ground. I picked it up and read it.
I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done!
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I reread the message written inside. I’d heard of lawyers on high-profile cases receiving threats before, but I’d never thought much about it. Why would I? Mother and Father had never been threatened. The notion of that happening to me had seemed ridiculous, if not impossible.
I read the sentence several more times. While alarming, it was not threatening. Instead I decided that it qualified as harassment, which did nothing to make me feel any better, but I want to be clear. Keep the facts straight.
I looked down the hall, first to my left, then to my right. I glanced over my shoulder, checking behind me. I was ready to find Nicky Holmes charging at me with his fist raised in the air, but there was no sign of him. I rubbed my hands on my pants; they were sweaty. Disgusting. If I was going to make it in this business, I needed to grow thicker skin.
I placed the note back on my locker shelf. I wanted to tear it to pieces, but I refrained, knowing that if things were to escalate, I might need it as evidence. By using my brain, I’d regained control of the situation—but not for long.
The sudden touch on my shoulder took years off my life. “Ah!” I screamed. I whipped around, my arms covering my face and head in a protective guard. I squeezed my eyes shut and shrank to the ground, ready to absorb Nicky’s punches.
“Natalie. It’s me.”
I peeked and saw Trevor. He was squatting in front of me, asking me if I was okay. Before I realized it, I had my arms around him.
Thinking back on this now, I can only imagine how shocked and confused Trevor must have felt, but I’d like to believe that part of him was more than happy to have me hugging him. And to be clear, I was holding him tight because he’d scared me half to death.
“I got you something,” he whispered into my ear.
I sat back and brushed the hair out of my face.
He pulled a small teddy bear from under his hoodie. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said.
I smiled and took the bear from him. “I love it,” I told him. And I did. It wasn’t one of those specialty ones with a heart or bow and arrow, but a simple, straightforward, classic teddy bear—who smelled like strawberries!
Trevor helped me to my feet and walked me to my first-period class. I hope it’s understandable when I tell you that the rest of my morning became a blur; for goodness’ sake, my heart was aflutter. February 14 had catapulted to the top of my hol
iday list.
“What’s gotten into you?” Randi asked me after lunch.
“Nothing,” I was quick to say. She was onto me. I had to do better. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Don’t we all.”
That comment snapped me to my senses. I put my guard back up—not literally but figuratively. I refused to carry on like one of those ditzy girls who fall hopelessly and madly in love, though I’ll admit, that did have a hint of romance to it. Nevertheless, that was not happening to me in seventh grade! Pu-lease!
I pulled myself together for the remainder of school. Natalie Kurtsman was back—until Trevor stopped by my locker after school.
“Thought I’d walk out with you,” he said. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
“No,” I was quick to say. “I’d like that.”
I closed my locker and swung my bag to my shoulder. We walked side by side, no hands, few words, but plenty of feelings. I tried shutting them off when I got into the car with Mom, but try as I might, I couldn’t hide my giddiness. She had me pegged before we made it out of the parking lot.
“Natalie, did you hear me?”
“What?” Wrong response.
“What has you so distracted? Did something happen today?”
“No.” I giggled.
“Natalie Eugene Kurtsman, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say a boy is behind this unusual behavior of yours.”
I stared out the window, trying to hide my smile.
“Natalie!” Mother gasped. “Are you in love?”
“What!” I cried. “Mother! Heavens, no!”
“Okay,” she said. “Just checking. You had me worried.” She smirked. Mother knew best.
“What was it you were telling me?” I asked, pulling the change-topic strategy before she dug any deeper into my love life.
She sighed. “I’m not sure I want to repeat it now. You’ve had such a good day.”
“What is it?” I said, seriousness in my voice. I sat up straight and fixed my seat belt. Giddy Natalie was gone, and lawyer Natalie was back.
“I received official notification of Carla’s court date this afternoon,” Mother began. “She is scheduled to go before the judge in three weeks.”
“Not till then? That seems like an outrageously long time.”
“I agree, but that’s how these things work.”
We slowed for a red light.
“Well, at least she has an official date,” I said. “That’s good news. Why did you think that would ruin my day?”
“I didn’t. There’s something else.”
Green. We were moving again. I braced myself.
“When your father was over at the courthouse this morning, he heard that Mr. Holmes is being arrested and charged with grand larceny. After your article and television interview, the journalists kept digging to unearth the full story. It’s been all over the news. It seems Mr. Holmes started embezzling funds from the booster club after losing his job at the factory. He hasn’t been able to find another job like what he had, and coaching football doesn’t pay that much. His wife works as a hairdresser, but without his regular income they were strapped. He made some bad decisions. It doesn’t look good.”
No wonder Nicky wanted me to rot in hell. I’d always thought that seeking and finding justice would leave me feeling good inside, but here was another reminder that life wasn’t always black-and-white. Life was messy. I didn’t know how to feel.
“Natalie, you mustn’t blame yourself for this,” Mother said, reading my mind. “I know it’s hard to believe, but by bringing this to light, you’re not only going to help the school’s extracurricular programs get the funding and support they deserve, but you’re also going to help Mr. Holmes get back on the right track. Sometimes people need to fall before they can rise again. It might take a while, but it will happen.”
I nodded, but it wasn’t a very convincing nod.
“You’ve got to believe that, Natalie. Otherwise this job will tear you up inside.” Mother reached out and took my hand in hers.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I didn’t know what I believed, but I knew what I hoped. I hugged my teddy bear so that I wouldn’t feel so lonely, and eventually I drifted off to sleep.
Waiting for my gymnastics scores to get posted after completing one of my routines was always hard, but waiting to hear the decision about Gav’s mother blew that away. The closer we got to the date, the longer the school days became.
Gymnastics was my escape. The worries of the world fell off my shoulders with a single back walkover on the beam. It had to be that way, or else I’d risk falling—or worse, getting hurt. Coach Andrea had me working extra hard lately, and I was loving it. Even though I had a solid bars routine, we were trying to add another element to my repertoire—one that would increase my difficulty level and give me a higher score to start.
After practice I changed out of my leotard and into comfy sweats, and then I went to find Mom. Usually she was ready for me, but not that day. I found her huddled in a corner of the lobby, talking on her phone and giggling. She acted like she didn’t want anyone else to hear what she was saying, and that made me wonder if the call was about Mrs. Davids. I hurried over, but the second Mom saw me coming, she quickly ended the call.
“Practice is over already?” she asked, blushing.
“Yes,” I answered, narrowing my eyes on her. “Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, nobody,” she said, waving her hand and brushing off my question. “Now, where did I put the car keys?” She began digging through her purse, clearly flustered.
I reached into her jacket pocket and pulled them out. “Here they are,” I said, jingling the set.
“Thank you,” Mom said, taking the keys. “I must be losing it.”
I nodded. Something was up, but I didn’t push it. I was going to let the story come to me on its own. After all, that approach had worked once already. I just hoped it didn’t take quite as long this time around.
We had a regularly scheduled newspaper meeting that afternoon, which was good because we needed to talk about ideas for our next issue. Natalie’s special report had put our paper on the network news and made us the talk all over town.
It was exciting to be a part of something important, but I was fresh out of ideas. That part of my brain still wasn’t working like it used to.
“Give it time,” Mom kept telling me. “You’ll get those creative synapses working again.”
I’m terrible at being patient, but I tried my best to listen to Mom’s advice because she hadn’t ever steered me wrong. Even Grandpa agreed with her, and he knew I could do it because of all the chess we’d played, so I was trying. For starters, I walked into our meeting instead of running.
I smiled big because the first thing I saw was Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta sitting together and talking.
“Hello, Mr. Mason,” Mrs. Woods said.
“Hi, Mrs. Woods. Hi, Mrs. Magenta.”
I took my seat, still smiling.
“Okay, everyone,” Natalie called, bringing us to order.
She’d used the word “everyone,” but that wasn’t right. None of us had forgotten that we were missing Gavin.
“Natalie,” Mrs. Magenta interrupted. “Would you mind if I shared some news before we begin?”
“Of course not,” Natalie said. “Please, go ahead.”
Mrs. Magenta stood. “I’ll need to tell the others later, but I couldn’t sit here and not tell all of you now,” she began. “I received notification from the state this afternoon that we need to find a new project for our after-school program or I will lose my grant that funds it.”
“Why?” Randi asked. “What’s wrong with the Senior Center?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Mrs. Magenta said. “It’s just that when I wrote the grant
request, I indicated that we would engage in a variety of community service initiatives, so we need to do something more than the Senior Center to prove we’ve done that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Magenta,” I told her. “We’ll keep going to the Senior Center even without the program. Right, guys?”
The Recruits agreed with me. This was a no-brainer.
“Scott, that concussion may have hurt your brain, but your heart is as big and strong as ever. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. You’ve just validated everything I believe in.”
Dad had told me the same thing about my heart, so I knew I had a good one of those. If I could just get my brain back to normal, I’d be all set. I didn’t know what Mrs. Magenta meant about validating anything, but I was happy.
“I know what we can do next,” Trevor said. “For our next project, I mean.”
“Really?” Mrs. Magenta asked. “I’m all ears.”
Trevor spoke about Kids Klub and how he thought we could make it a better experience for the kids there by doing the same things we’d done at the Senior Center.
“Dude, that’s actually a good idea,” Mark said.
“Thanks, bro.”
“That does sound like the perfect place for all of you to work your magic,” Mrs. Woods agreed. “Well done, Mr. Joseph.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Magenta replied. “I’ll look into it. Thank you, Trevor.”
“Hey, maybe our next article should be about our friends at the Senior Center,” I blurted. “Like a wrap-up story.”
“Brilliant suggestion,” Natalie said.
I ran over and gave her a hug. She’d just made my day. Maybe my brain was starting to rev up again.
It was our first day trying out my new idea for Mrs. Magenta’s program—Positive Peers, Scott had named it, because the kid liked to name everything. I was nowhere near as nervous going to this as I’d been when we first went to the Senior Center, but I was worried. I hadn’t stopped thinking about that little boy. He was the whole reason I’d come up with this idea. I didn’t know what I was going to do once we got there and I saw him, but somebody else took care of that for me.
