Black Star Cross - 42. A Valentine Carol

Black Start Cross

Chapter 42: A Valentine Carol

Twas Valentine’s Day, and all throughout school, there was pink everywhere, on every nail and screw. All the children were happy, and love was in the air, or at least to the guys, their lust they could lay out to bare. There will be pregnancies tonight, the girls will be easy, for sappy love can make, even the most righteous girl sleazy.

The rhymes kept popping in my mind. I thought about writing them down, but decided against it. All I had to do was survive the day and then be done with it. I hope that colleges don’t go overboard with this holiday as much as this school does. None of these smiling idiots really “love” each other anyways. By tomorrow, they’ll have all forgotten who they talked to today. I hope that no one gives their hopes up because of a friendly smile today. Girls can be hopeless romantics like that sometimes.

I still hadn’t figured out what was on Anthony’s face a couple days ago. It really worried me, since none of those emotions seemed to be positive. He tried to put on a mask yesterday to shield them from me, but even he could tell that it’s no use against me. I’m a master at deciphering him. Or at least, I thought I was. Now I’m having some difficulty with this new problem. Probably because it was a whole mix of things, and probably because some of them were new emotions to come upon his face. Despite all this, he tried to act normal around me, and I tried to act normal around him, but something seemed to be off.

There was a rose in my locker.

I just opened up my locker and found a rose inside. What the hell was a ROSE doing inside my locker?! It looked fresh. The red hue was brilliant and showed no signs of withering yet. An image of a withering rose came to mind. They probably withered during the winter time, when it gets really cold out. It’d be weird if they turned blue like people do when they get cold.

‘Hmpf. A blue rose. I’m pretty sure that those exist somewhere. I wonder how they got to be blue, though? Depression?’

Bad joke. And why the hell was there a rose in my locker?! I automatically suspected the student committee, with their everlasting quest to “spread the love around.” But that idea was soon thwarted by the remembering of the fact that only people who were requested by other people to receive a rose got one. Which meant that somebody wanted ME to receive a rose. But who? And why?

Of course, the first person suspected was my very romantic jock boyfriend. The sarcasm was so thick that it suffocated the idea soon after its birth. Anthony’s just not that romantic. And even if he was, he doesn’t have the balls to do something like this. A person has to tell the committee who they want to send a rose to in order for it to be sent, obviously. From what I heard, all roses were to be anonymous, meaning that no one would know who sent a rose to them, even if it was the most obvious thing in the world. A couple could send roses to each other and the flowers would STILL be anonymous. This is to prevent mass embarrassment to those who have crushes, I guess.

So it’s not Anthony. Keith? I wouldn’t doubt it. He’d totally be the type of person to do this sort of thing. But still, he would have to tell the committee to send the rose to me as well. I don’t know if even he’s capable of doing that. Even if he were to explain this as a joke, would the committee allow it? Probably, since it’s more profit for the schools, and makes them look better by having sold one more rose to a student.

“You got a rose? Seriously?” came Anthony’s voice from behind me.

“Of course I don’t know who sent it,” I replied.

“Probably Keith, dude.”

“Yeah, I figured that. I mean, how many people even know my name?”

Anthony’s facial expression turned darker.

“More than you think, actually.”

“Really? What’s with the sudden sour mood?”

“Just remembering things I don’t want to remember.”

“How is-“

”Remember my first rumor?” he interrupted. I nodded. “That we were fuck buddies, right? Well, people back then certainly started knowing and saying your name then, dude. All I ever heard was ‘Anthony and that Shawn guy are doing this.’ and ‘Anthony and that Shawn guy are doing that.’ Your name was up there in names brought up in conversations, dude.”

“Okay. But with that rumor gone now, people probably forgot all about me.”

“I can only hope so, dude.”

“So, what should I do with this rose?” I asked.

“I dunno. Why don’t give it to your mom?”

I stared at the rose, as if I expected something magical to happen to it. Maybe turn into a gun...or a dildo...

“I guess. How long are these things supposed to survive without water?”

“How the hell should I know, dude? You’re asking the WRONG guy here. Maybe Peter knows.”

“I’m sure he does,” I said with a strained voice, making no attempt to hide the fact that I wasn’t even THINKING about talking to someone like him.

“Come on, dude. Class starts soon.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

I placed the rose back in my locker and closed it. Class was boring as usual, and we didn’t get a chance to pass notes to each other through half of class like during the test, so communication was few and far in-between. After class, Anthony went off to his next class and I stopped by my locker to grab some books. Upon opening the locker, I see a note lying next to the rose.

‘I know you don’t see me, walking through the halls;

I’d be surprised if you acknowledged my existence at all.

I’m sure we weren’t meant to be; I can live with that;

It’s probably because you think that I’m too fat.

Or maybe it’s me who thinks you think that;

And I never really gave myself much of a chance.

I just want you to know, on this Valentine’s Day;

That someone out there loves you, so what if I’m gay?

Yes it’s true, I’m a guy, and you are one too;

But that doesn’t make my love any less true.’

~Anonymous

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS SHIT?!? Who the hell wrote this crap?! What gay guy has a fucking crush on me?! Oh it had BETTER not be that pansy Peter! I will rip his balls off! The poem doesn’t even freaking follow a rhythm pattern (thanks a lot, stupid Literature class)!

That does it. I’m showing this to Anthony. Maybe he can pound Peter and do all the dirty work for me. I stuffed the letter into my binder, took out the books I needed, and left for my next class.

Anthony sat at the jock table today. Keith, of course, sat with him. Actually, Keith’s never actually sat over here before, even if Anthony comes over. Who knows what’s going on inside Keith’s brain anymore. I’m tired of trying to decipher him. He’s not as simplistic as Anthony is. So the note giving will have to wait until after school.

Which is exactly what happened when Anthony came to my locker after school ended.

“So did you get anymore roses?” he teased.

“Nope. Just a love letter,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“What? Nah, you’re just yanking my chain, dude.”

I showed him the letter.

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Dude, are you serious?”

“Just read it Anthony. And try not to make any sudden, loud noises,” I said, shutting the locker door (I had taken out the rose), and started walking towards the exit of the school. Anthony followed suit.

A few minutes later and...

“What the fucking hell?!?” he shouted.

“Now what did I say about loud, sudden noises?”

“Who wrote this shit?!” he demanded.

“Like I know. It’s signed anonymous for a reason, you know.”

“Damn it. Is this school just crawling with gay guys? It’s like they’re popping out of everywhere!”

“A slight over-exaggeration, but still...”

“Dude,” he cut me off. “Don’t tell me it’s Peter.”

“Like I said, I don’t know, Anthony. Although I suspected Peter as well since, well, he’s the only other gay guy I know of.”

“Damn better not be Peter,” he mumbled to himself.

“Oh? And if it’s some other guy, it’s fine then?” I teased now.

“No, it’s not,” he said back, raising his voice a little. “Doesn’t matter which guy it is...” he trailed off.

I smirked. “Well aren’t YOU being the big, protective boyfriend.”

He shot a glare at me, but didn’t say anything. The glare was short-lived. It was soon replaced with a look of deep thought.

“Dammit. It seems like it, don’t it?” he said, more than asked. He gave a big sigh.

“It ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, Anthony. I just find it fucking hilarious. That’s all.”

He mumbled something to himself again, although this time I couldn’t hear what he’d said.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

He quickly changed the subject.

“You know, it’s always possible that Keith planted that rose and note for you. It sounds like something he would do.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. Though I don’t know if Keith’s capable of writing such a sappy love poem like that.”

“Who knows. Maybe he just copied it off of something he found online. Bastard actually HAS a computer.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I still doubt it.”

We soon arrived at my house.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he queried.

“Same time, same place.”

“Be sure to give that rose to your mom,” he directed.

“Yeah yeah. Sure. Whatever,” I said, halfheartedly.

“I mean it. It might actually improve your relationship with her.”

“I’ll do it, Anthony,” I said in a slightly annoyed voice.

“You better. Seeya, dude.”

“Bye.”

He drove away and I went inside the house. Was I actually going to give the rose to Mom? She was already home. I thought about pitching it in the trash, but then I figured that Anthony would somehow know that I did that and yell at me at great length. So I gave her the damn flower. Explained the school’s system of giving roses to certain people, telling her that mine was anonymous, so I’m giving it to her. Flowers are for girls and women, after all. She acted like it was Christmas and actually started crying. She hugged me and said how much she loved me and all that mushy stuff. I just kinda stood there and took it. I don’t know how to handle a situation like this. Especially with my mom.

She was so glad about me giving her that stupid flower that she took me and Kimberly out to eat that night. We haven’t done that in awhile. It was fun, I guess. One of the waiters, not ours though, was cute. I wouldn’t mind including him in a hot threesome with me and Anthony. I should come to this restaurant more often.

Later on that night, while I was in my room, homework done, reading some book, my cell phone rang from its charger. I stared at it for a second or two as it rang, clearly not used to the noise, nor the fact that the noise was coming from my cell phone. Snapping back into reality, I realized that it was probably Anthony, went over, picked up the cell phone, and answered it.

“Hello.”

“Hey dude, it’s me.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah. So...how’s it going?”

Weird.

“Um...good, I guess.” I said, a bit perplexed. This wasn’t like him, calling me for no good reason.

“That’s cool,” he said. We were both quite for awhile. “Dude, I’m just bored, I guess. I’ve got nothing to do here, and I’m just bored out of my mind, dude. I just figured that I’d call you to see what’s up, dude.”

Okay, now things are getting weirder. Even Anthony doesn’t say the word “dude” literally in every sentence. And he’s repeating words. A lot. Is this some sort of nervous tick of his?

“Is something wrong, Anthony?”

“What? No. No, no, no, no. Nothing’s wrong, dude. I just...wanted to speak to you. That’s all,” he said hurriedly.

I didn’t buy it for one minute, but I decided to let it slide.

“Alright. So what do you want to talk about?”

“I dunno. Stuff?” he suggested.

‘Brilliant,’ I thought sarcastically to myself.

“Well, what kind of stuff?”

“Well I...I mean...I guess...” I heard him sigh over the phone. “I mean...you know...it being...well...you know...a holiday and all...”

None of this was making any sense to me. Had Anthony finally lost his mind? Did The Pink get to him?

“I have NO idea what you’re saying,” I said.

“Well...I guess that...I...” I heard him sigh again. “You know what? Forget it. Just...forget it. Okay? I thought I could do it, but obviously I can’t. It has nothing to do with you, okay? So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Seeya.”

And before I could say anything else, he hung up on me. I kinda just stood there, feeling shell-shocked. What the hell just happened here? What was that all about? Am I missing something here? What was he talking about? What couldn’t he do? What was he trying to say? Dammit. Now I’m going to be thinking about all these questions for the rest of the night. Anthony had fucking better tell me all about this tomorrow.

Mom kept that damned rose alive like it was her third child for another six weeks before it wilted.