“What is this?” I said. “What
are we doing?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, “it’s
Valentine’s Day. You pick a special
person and you tell them that you
love them, and they love you back.”
Wow, I thought, that seems
intense. But I hadn’t been shot by
Cupid’s arrow, and I didn’t know of
anyone getting shot on my behalf. I
had no clue what was going on. All
week, the girls in school kept
saying, “Who’s your valentine?
Who’s your valentine?” I didn’t
know what I was supposed to do.
Finally one of the girls, a white girl,
said, “You should ask Maylene.”