Seventeen

Finally, Valentine’s Day arrived. I woke up in the morning feeling happy. Today was the day of love. How can you be unhappy? I threw on the only pink sweater I had. My grandmother bought it for my birthday last year. She knows I loved wearing sweaters, but she couldn’t resist buying it in pastel pink, her favorite color.  

When we arrived at school, I was delighted to see all the decorations. Paper hearts were hanging from the ceiling in various shades of red and pink and rose petals were scattered all over the ground, leading up the stairs. It reminded me of a wedding. Before first hour started, some student council members walked around the classroom to hand out roses. I watched as a group of girls received multiple different roses from different boys. A student council girl passed by my desk. 

“Riley Bella...fiore?” 

I nodded. Then she handed me a rose. I smiled and read the note. 

 

To: Riley Bellafiore :)       

 

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

       - Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights                                       

 

                        

 

Love,   Gideon  

 

Wuthering Heights. What a good novel. I was impressed that Gideon had read it, although, I shouldn’t be surprised. I brought the rose to my nose and inhaled. It smelled sweet. Unnatural, but pleasant. I couldn’t stop smiling throughout the entire class.  

 

After the lunch bell rang, I made my way to the same table at the corner of the cafeteria. Val was already waiting. When I sat down, Val stood up and gave me a hug. 

 

“Thank you for the rose Riley. I really appreciate it.” I smiled as she sat back down. 

“No problem.” 

She smiled back. “That made my day actually. I was feeling a bit sad today.” 

I frowned. “Adrian?” She nodded. 

“Well, I’m glad I could help. Before you know it, you’ll be off to college with Adrian.” 

“I know.” She smiled warmly at me again. “That from Gideon?” she asked, gesturing toward the rose I was holding. 

I smiled and nodded. Just then, I Gideon plopped down in the seat next to me, grabbed my face, and pressed his lips against mine. 

“Okay then. Letting everyone know that he’s not available?” Val laughed. 

“Exactly,” Gideon smiled. Then he looked away from me and at Val. “So how are ya’ll’s days so far?” he asked. Throughout the hour, we continued to talk about everything and nothing. 

 

 

~ 

 

 

After Valentine’s Day, everything went downhill. For most of that next week, Gideon didn’t come to school. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, he was nowhere to be seen. At some point I texted him. I asked him where he was, which he responded, ‘My house. Srry, I haven't felt like coming to school.’ Then, I asked if he was gone because of his dad. I couldn’t help myself. The voice in the back of my mind continued to tell me it was his dad’s fault. However, Gideon said the reason he wasn’t at school the past few days wasn’t because of his dad. And I believed him.  

Thursday, Gideon was back at school. I saw him after second hour standing by his locker. He looked different. I was used to his long sleeve shirts and optimistic grin. But today, he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black sweatshirt with the hood over his head so I couldn’t see his eyes. When I walked over to him, he jumped.  

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk toward me,” he said. 

I smiled sympathetically. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. “Yea.” Then he quickly turned away from me as if he wanted to hide his face. 

I hesitated. “Are you sure?” 

“Yea,” he insisted. “I just…,” he continued, glancing toward me slightly, but keeping his head turned away from me. 

That’s when I caught a better glimpse of his face. I interrupted his excuse and grabbed his chin, turning his face towards me. When his face was turned completely toward mine, I gasped. His left eye was bruised leaving it puffy and purple. His right eye was also slightly bruised, except it was less noticeable, and there were two cuts on the bridge of his nose. 

“Gideon!” I gasped. “I thought you said it wasn’t your dad!” 

He jerked his face away from me and pulled his hood farther over his head. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he muttered.  

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Gideon… you need to tell me about these things. Okay? Your dad can’t do this to you.” 

Gideon scoffed. “Oh, he can.” 

“No,” I corrected, a little too sternly. “Listen, I care about you. You know that. I’m sorry your dad doesn’t, but I won’t let him treat you like this.” 

Silence. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if he ever starts to do this again,” I requested. 

Still, Gideon said nothing. “Promise me Gideon!” That’s when Gideon started crying.  

“Oh, hey. No, I didn’t mean…,” but my sentence was interrupted.  

Gideon burst out in tears and wrapped his arms around my neck. He buried his face in my sweatshirt, which muffled his sobs. Unsure how to comfort him, I wrapped my arms around his thin body and slowly started rubbing my hand down his spine.  

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. I got you.” I repeated these words of reassurance until he finally calmed down a couple minutes later. He inhaled and with his face still buried in my sweatshirt, whispered, “I promise I’ll tell you next time. I’m sorry.” 

“Nope,” I said. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” My heart broke to see Gideon in this much pain. I’d never intentionally hurt someone, but for Gideon’s dad, I’d probably make an exception. 

“It’s not your fault,” I kept repeating. I held Gideon longer. The bell rang ushering students to their classrooms, but I still didn’t care. I would hold Gideon in my arms for as long as he needed.