Confetti.
The school hallways look and smell of the arrival of cupid. Hanging from the ceiling are elaborate heart-shaped boxes that I think are filled with love and gifts. Student council members sprinkle rose petals in hope of a kiss on a special day.
Everyone is expecting something or someone on Valentine's Day.
Of course, Zoey is expecting hearts, riches and a shopping trip to Sephora. Every single Valentine's Day, I have the thought of going bankrupt. Every single Valentine's Day, that almost comes true. Every single Valentine's Day, I get nothing in return.
Okay seriously, Zoey will give me a 'thank you Drewry Bear' and nothing in return. Year after year, month after month, day after day. Every day just seems like our anniversary, actually, more like Zoey's anniversary. She gives me nothing. Nothing.
My eyes tear up at the thought of her never returning true affection. Still, I didn't break up with her, not yet.
I continue to saunter without effort to an alien part of the school. The creative art hall. The furthest I've been was the music room, only to poke fun at the music freaks. A brisk dash of wind speeds past me, its pace faster than mine. Then, it abruptly halts while I just continue with my way. I stroll past the photography room without lifting my eye from the ground. I'm guessing that was just some artistic loser, nobody important. Out of the cooking room, a seemingly delicious scent of apple pie and a hint of cinnamon dance past my nose. Still, I don't bother to look up. I near the end of the long corridor and make a sharp u-turn leading me to stride around the same path again. I hate the 'same' word, it reminds me of Zoey. A never-changing Rabie and a gold-digger. Still, my past self managed to fall for her.
The clock ticks to 5:48 and the decorators start to wrap up. With burning tears rubbing across my red and blunt face, a sharp bang hits my forehead. I lean against locker '4254' for who knows how long. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of pink wrapping paper. Wait, the lockers remain the only undecorated part of the school, how...
Under the lock of the locker that belongs to me, a baby pink envelope embroidered with white lacing rests peacefully. Addressed to, Drew McRich.
This was, strange? Who would ever send one to me...
Carefully, I peel off the scratch-and-sniff sticker that sent off the scent of strawberries and inside was a letter.
I was shaking, stuttering, uncontrollable tears filled my eyes again.
I don't know why I was crying again, I just was.
My head buried itself in my clammy hands and another pair of hands wrap around me. Luke.
He rests his head on my shoulder as I mutter to myself.
"I wish he could talk..."
"I wish this wasn't a dream..."