by Nancy Isaak
“That’s creative,” I told Wester, touching the big, center valentine.
“It’s for my countries,” he said. “America and Haiti—because I love them both.”
“Of course,” I said, getting it. “Red, white and blue for the American flag.”
“Blue and red for Haiti,” said Ethan, giving Wester’s big valentine his own special whack.
I leaned closer to read the names on the valentines in the four corners—Mama, Papa, Cherry, Shawnee. When I looked at Wester, his eyes were moist—but he was smiling.
“Now they know that I care,” he said, happy. “That I love them.”
“And that you’ll never forget,” I added. “Those are great valentines, Wester. Your family would be really proud of you.”
I noticed that Andrei and Ian were hanging back, watching the three of us from a corner of the room. Since I had Wester holding onto one hand and Ethan the other, I used my head to motion them forward.
“Don’t just stand there guys,” I called. “I want to see what you did. Show me your valentines and let’s see who you love.”
Beaming, they came quickly forward.
* * * *
My youngest brother was hesitant to enter the room. He was standing just outside the door, twisting his hands nervously.
“I wonder what’s up with Rhys,” I said to Porter. “Maybe it’s too much for him—all the valentines, the memories.”
Porter laughed. “I doubt that,” he said, pointing at a line of some twenty valentines that snaked across the far wall. “Those are his.”
“Rhys took part?!” I asked, astonished. “Seriously?”
“Go take a look.”
I walked over to the wall. Now that I was closer, I could see that the row of valentines actually started on the ceiling—angling over to the wall and flowing up and then down. The biggest valentine—and the one leading the line—belonged to my mother.
It brought tears to my eyes—I had to reach out and touch it.
The next biggest—my father—I touched it, also.
Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—touch, touch, touch.
And, finally, the last one; it had one word on it.
Tribe.
* * * *
Rhys was still standing, just outside the room—chewing on his nails and watching as the younger guys danced around the room, admiring their work.
I walked over to stand beside him. “Mom and dad would absolutely love it,” I assured him. “You did an amazing job. All of you guys did.”
“Thanks. It felt stupid when we started, you know,” he said, honestly. “But then we all kind of got into it and I really like it now.”
“Then how come you’re not inside the room?” I asked. “Why are you standing out here?”
He grinned, pointing. “Look—can you see it?”
I turned and stared back into the room. “What?”
“Just let your eyes go slack,” he instructed. “Like when you’re looking at those 3D pictures. Keep looking, don’t stop.”
It took a few seconds before I could force my eyes to lose focus.
Then I saw it.
“Holy cow!” I said, impressed. “Whose idea was that?”
“Connor’s,” said Rhys. “It’s like he could see it in his head, so he just told us where they should all go.”
From where we were standing, all the valentines in the room—with their different sizes and at different levels—somehow melded together into a single gigantic three-dimensional heart. Even as I moved my head, the heart moved with me—almost as if it was floating in the air.
“That’s amazing!” I said.
“I know,” agreed Rhys, grinning. “And you can see it from all around but this is my favorite spot.”
“Amazing,” I repeated.
* * * *
Carrying two bottles of soda, Porter came out into the hallway. He handed a soda to me, the other one to Rhys. “I see that you’ve figured out our little secret.”
“Little secret…this is seriously crazy-good! And it was Connor’s idea?”
Porter nodded. “Totally his.”
“Rhys said that he just saw it in his head.”
He nodded again. “It’s like Connor’s some sort of multi-dimensional genius. When he was telling me his idea—honestly—I didn’t get it. But making the valentines sounded like a good thing for everybody, so I just went along with it. Then,” he motioned at the flying heart, “this happened.”
“Ooo—look at all the little hearts!”
Immediately, Porter, Rhys, and I all tensed
We turned to find Brandon and Kieran coming up behind us. They were dressed all in black—Brandon wearing leather pants that actually squeaked when he walked past.
“The guys worked hard on this,” I said, warning. “It means a lot to them.”
They both ignored me, moving into the center of the room. Looking up at the ceiling, they turned around, reading the names on the valentines closest to them.
“Who’s Tao Mama?” asked Kieran, reaching up to tap one of the largest.
“That’s my mom,” said Ian, coming quickly over. “It’s my dad’s nickname for her.”
I took a step toward them, worried. At the first sign of a problem, I was prepared to throw one or either of them out of the room. This installation was important to the younger guys. There was no way that I was going to allow two immature brats to ruin it for them.
But—Kieran and Brandon surprised me that day.
“This is a great valentine, Ian,” said my middle brother. He pointed to some Asian lettering on the heart. “Is that the Chinese for your mom’s name?”
Ian nodded.
Kieran smiled down at him. “Cool,” he said. “Show us your other valentines.”
And—one-by-one—all the guys moved around the room once more, proudly acknowledging their love for family and friends now disappeared from the world.
* * * *
Connor eventually showed up—carrying a tray of Valentine’s Day cookies that he’d been baking secretly in an outside pizza oven at a nearby house. They were large sugar cookies with red icing and multi-colored sprinkles—one for each of us.
The way the younger guys rushed him as he came through the door, it was smart that he had put our names on the cookies. Otherwise, it’s doubtful that everyone would have received one.
* * * *
“Porter says that you can see this in your head,” I said, pointing to the floating hearts above us.
Connor and I were seated on either ends of a couch—eating our cookies and drinking soda.
“My doctor says that I have something called ‘advanced visual spatial recognition’. It just means that I can see shapes and stuff,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t any great deal.
“So—if I handed you a Rubik’s Cube?”
“Yeah,” he blushed. “I can do it.”
“Fast?”
“Maybe.”
“You know that’s amazing, right?” I said. “Like you’re a genius or something.”
He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It sure does.”
“Not anymore,” he shook his head. “Only things that keep you alive are important. People who can hunt and fish and shoot guns—they’re the geniuses now.”
I reached out and gave him a good whack on his head.
“Dumbass,” I said. “Take a look at the people in this room. You see how happy they all look…even Kieran and Brandon. Look at them—almost acting human. You did that. So, don’t you go telling me that people like you don’t matter anymore. If anything, you matter more than the rest of us.”
And—just to drive home the point.
I whacked him on the head once more.
Jumpstarting the genius—so to speak.
* * * *
Later—after everyone had gone back to the mansion—I stayed behind to help Porter clean up. “That was a lot of fun,” I told him. “A little emotional m
aybe.”
“Did you cry?” he teased.
“Shaddup.”
I picked up a soda can and tossed it into a nearby recycling bin. “Still can’t believe that Rhys took part.”
“He shows up most school days now,” Porter told me.
“You’re kidding!” That surprised me.
“Rhys spends a lot of the time complaining about how stupid everything is,” Porter admitted. “But he still shows up—and he still does all the work.”
I laughed. “Well, then everything is normal because that’s how he was with regular school.”
Something suddenly caught my eye. A valentine tucked low, down near a baseboard. I went over, bending down to read the name—Jude.
When I looked back up, Porter was blushing—a dark red that started on his neck and was quickly heading all the way up to his forehead.
“Why is she in the corner?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Porter?” I asked again. “Why are you hiding Jude’s valentine?”
If anything, his face became even redder.
“It’s because you thought we were going to laugh, isn’t it?”
He sighed. “I just get tired of people making fun of her, you know.” He came over and plucked the valentine from the baseboard. “I thought she’d be safe there.”
“I’m not laughing, dude,” I said, seriously. “But if you care about Jude, you need to put her where she belongs. With the rest of them.” Then, I thought of something else. “Wait, Porter. Give me five minutes. I’ll be right back.”
And I took off running.
* * * *
Less than three minutes later, I had returned—carrying my own valentine.
“This is Kaylee’s,” I said. “I left it in her room, but I think she would be happier here.”
Using a couple of tacks and some string, Porter and I hung up our two hearts side-by-side.
“You know,” joked Porter, “I don’t think Jude and Kaylee get along. I think Jude’s jealous and kind of mean to her. Maybe it would be smarter if we put them farther apart.”
I shook my head.
“Leave them be,” I said. “Let them figure out how to be friends.”
* * * *
That evening Brandon and Kieran had a Valentine’s Day party.
It was at their gym and they had spent days planning it. Although Porter and I had misgivings, we agreed that—for the tribe—everyone should probably attend.
I was hoping that my brother and Brandon would be on their best behavior. Certainly they had been polite enough at the school art installation.
My fingers were crossed.
* * * *
“They do seem to be trying,” Porter said, as he and I walked toward the split in the side fencing that allowed us access to the mansion next door.
“I know,” I nodded, “but—I still hate to say it—I’m suspicious. They’re both such—”
“Dicks?” Porter ended my sentence for me.
I ducked through the hole in the chain link, holding back the sides so Porter could squeeze through. His jacket got stuck on a link and he struggled for a moment to free himself. As he did, I looked over toward the gym.
Wester and Ethan were running around on the outside patio, shooting each other with water pistols. Ian was sitting on a bench nearby, eating what looked to be an enormous piece of cake.
Porter finally freed himself. I let go of the chain link and we started up the small hill toward the patio.
“You know, I kind of feel like I owe you an apology,” said Porter.
“Me…why?”
“You’re Jacob Riker—football star, one of the most popular guys at school. I always thought that you’d wind up with one of the Foxes, you know.”
“Not ever,” I shook my head.
“That’s why it kind of surprised me to find out you liked Kaylee. I really thought you’d go for someone like Peyton Buckingham.”
“Peyton…I don’t think so.”
“I guess the rumor is wrong, then,” said Porter.
I cringed. “You’re talking about the sex tape, right?”
He put up his hands quickly. “None of my business, dude.”
Sighing, I stopped where I was—not wanting to have this conversation where anyone else could overhear. Porter turned toward me, waiting.
“Look, bro,” I said, quietly. “There was no sex tape, okay. That was just Peyton flapping her lips. It was this stupid thing she wanted, to make a sex tape and maybe get famous because of it. But there was no way I would ever do that. And—just for the record—I never dated the girl—I never would have dated the girl.”
“It’s okay, Jacob. You don’t have to explain.”
“I know what everyone thinks,” I continued anyway, “but the truth is—it would be impossible for there to be a sex tape.”
It took a moment for Porter to clue in. When he did, his eyes went wide. “Dude! You mean, you never—”
“Well, have you?” I challenged him, feeling a little embarrassed.
“No, of course not,” said Porter, quickly. “But I’m—well, I’m me. And you—well, you’re—Jacob!”
“I’m no different than you, dude,” I insisted. “I can’t even get up the nerve to ask the girl I love out on a date. Heck—when it comes right down to it—you’re doing better than me. At least you can talk to your girl. I basically ignore mine. Or, at least, that’s what she probably thinks.”
Porter broke into a huge grin.
“What?!”
“It’s just that,” he said, chuckling, “I never would have thought that I was better with girls than the great Jacob Riker.”
I think my eyes must have narrowed then, because he immediately took off running.
JOURNAL ENTRY #19
This has been—without a doubt—the worst Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had!
* * * *
I guess I should start with Brandon and Kieran’s party this evening.
When Porter and I showed up at the gym, we were amazed at the preparations that had been made. All the weightlifting equipment had been moved to the sides of the room, replaced with sofas and chairs.
There were lots of decorations—Brandon and Kieran had covered the walls in red and white streamers. And, over in one corner, was a table draped in pink, complete with a cherub centerpiece. It was also covered in food—canned ham and pineapple, roasted vegetables, cookies and cakes.
At a smaller table, Porter and I found Andrei and Rhys. They were crowded around a bowl of melted chocolate that was perched over a can of sterno—dipping in marshmallows and canned peaches on little fondue forks.
Connor, meanwhile, was sitting on a nearby couch. He had a plastic plate covered with food on his lap and was happily munching away.
“Where’s Kieran and Brandon?” I asked him.
Mouth full of ham, Connor pointed to the side of the house. “Brandon’s got a barbeque set up over there,” he mumbled between bites. “Don’t know where Kieran is.”
“Sorry to abandon you guys,” Porter said, “but that chocolate fondue is calling my name.”
He quickly walked off and I turned back to Connor. “How’s the food?”
“Well, I’d get some pretty darn quick if I were you,” he advised me. “Andrei doesn’t have a stomach—he has a bottomless pit.”
I looked over at Andrei, leaning over the chocolate bowl. His cheeks were fat with marshmallows and peaches and he had a fondue fork in each hand, eagerly skewering his next round of treats.
“It’s nice to see everyone having fun,” I said. “Any idea where Brandon and Kieran got the food?”
Connor shrugged. “Same place we all do, I’d guess. Scavenging.”
* * * *
I found Brandon on the side patio, happily manning his barbeque. When he saw me coming, he immediately reached into a nearby garbage can and pulled out a couple of huge tins.
“Straight out of the can,” he swore. “No hunting involved. Cr
oss my heart.”
“Is that chicken?” I asked, surprised.
“Chicken-in-a-can,” he laughed. “Who woulda’ thunk it, huh? We found it down in one of the houses on Sea Ranch Way. Same place we found the Valentine’s Day decorations.”
“I’ve never seen a whole chicken that comes out of a can before. That’s straight on bizarre.”
“Doesn’t barbeque worth a crap either,” Brandon grimaced. “But we do the best we can now, right?”
I nodded.
“Sure is a lot different from my last Valentine’s Day,” Brandon said. “That was my second date with Tray.” His eyes got a faraway look—as if he was remembering. “That girl,” he sighed. “You think she looks good in her designer duds—you should see her without her clothes.”
“Yeah, I’ll take a pass, thanks.”
“We went to Amelie’s movie premiere last Valentine’s, right down in Hollywood, on the Strip,” he said. “All the stars were there. And Peyton’s dad got us a limo—one of those stretch things.”
“You went with Peyton’s dad?” (Her father always creeps me out. There’s something ‘off’ about him—the way he looks at Peyton and her little sister. It’s probably just all in my mind but—sometimes I wonder.)
“Nah, dude took his Maserati with the mom,” Brandon continued. “It was me and the Foxes in the limo—and Frank and Denny—and Amelie went ahead with her agent or something.”
“Sounds like a fun evening.”
“Rocking! No offense—but I’ll take some Valentine’s Day action in a limo with a hot chick over you dudes any day.”
I smiled. This was the Brandon I actually liked. He didn’t come out very often to play but—when he did—he was a lot of fun to be around.
