The Secret Admirer: A Bartholy Valentine's Day Story

The Secret Admirer

Today is February 14th — the most dreaded date of the year, a.k.a. Valentine's Day.  Why do I dread it so?  Well, for one, I do not have a paramour... in fact, I haven't been on a proper date in almost two years.  Second of all:  Samantha Gautier.  I am sure she will put on quite a show at school, making a big deal out of her "perfect relationship" with that dunce, Loan Huxley.  Samantha will show up wearing some silly skin-tight red mini dress covered in cute little glittery hearts, that will most likely reveal her cleavage - Sam's biggest and most prized asset.  She will undoubtedly act surprised upon receiving a gigantic bouquet of red roses right in the middle of the Myths and Legends class.

"What???  For me???" 

I can already hear her whiny voice in my head, pretending to be completely shocked by the attention in order to attract even more of it to herself.  She will give out a little yelp of delight and jump up and down before opening the obligatory card accompanying the flowers, and reading it out loud for everyone to hear — whether they want to or not.

"To my dearest Samantha!  You are the love of my life, the most beautiful girl I've ever known who brightens every second of my otherwise dull existence.  Yours truly, forever and ever, Loan.  XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO"

Yuck!  Just thinking about the scenario makes me want to vomit.

Nonetheless, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom.  I gaze into the mirror and make a disgusted face:  my eyes are red and bleary.  I am sporting some outstanding dark circles under them.  My hair looks flat and slightly greasy, and my lips are chapped.  To top it all off, I am the proud owner of a new zit that appeared overnight smack dab in the middle of my forehead.

"Wonderful!"  I mutter under my breath as I study the painfully-throbbing giant red blob.

I wash my face with cold water in the hopes of reducing the puffiness of my eyes, and then I attempt to rid myself of my new adornment.  I am, of course, unsuccessful and only manage to make it worse —if that was even possible... and trust me — it was.

I grumble as I open my closet and start rummaging through my outfits.  I realize that I own way too many baggy grey sweatshirts and jeans, and not nearly enough cute, flattering, femine clothes.  I am therefore frankly shocked and delighted to come across a red, silky top that is actually clean.

"Yay!"  I exclaim as I pull it off its hanger.  "But do you still fit me?"  I ask the said shirt.

Luckily, it does.  I put it on, and settle for a pair of black skinny jeans, since all of my skirts have somehow managed to disappear overnight.  I then thoroughly comb my brown hair and tie it up in a high ponytail.  I add a couple of silver heart-shaped barrettes on either side of my head and call it a day.

"That'll do," I reassure myself as I check my reflection in the mirror.

I suddenly remember that I own some flesh-toned Clearasil and quickly apply it over the nasty blemish so that it's no longer flashing like a bright red stoplight in the middle of my face.  Luckily, my bangs cover most of it and that truly helps today.

I dab on a bit of loose face powder and run a dash of lip gloss over my mouth.  As a final touch, I spray some J'Adore Dior behind my ears. 

"Alright... you're not a complete disaster," I give myself a half-smile and a mental pat on the back to build up my nerve.

Why do I need to build up my nerve, you may ask?  Well... because I will soon be faced with my other nemesis (besides Miss Gautier), namely Drogo Bartholy.  If there's anyone in this whole wide world who can make me feel like an insignificant gnat before eight a.m., it's Drogo... and I'm sure that today, of all days, he will have something extra special in store for me.