Once again, it’s February at my school. Valentine’s Day drama covers the school like a thick layer of fog. Usually I laugh with my friends at all the heart broken girls planning their revenge while the boys try cheesy “romantics” to get a girl. To me, Valentine’s Day was more like Laugh and Mock Your Butt Off Day. But this year was different.

I had my mom drop me off early, which wasn’t all that strange since I ask her to do so just about every week. Mostly during that time I would listen to my music or play a game on my iPod. However, there was no time for that. I clenched the dollar bill I was holding and made my way to the back of the cafeteria. Today was the last day to buy a rose. At my school, that’s what we do for Valentine’s Day. If you have a special someone, you can buy a plastic rose, write their name on it, then messengers will give them their rose on Valentine’s Day. Once again, buying a rose for someone isn’t what I usually do. Then I saw him.

The start of seventh grade was hard. I’m really shy when it comes to new people. When I’m with my friends, I’m quite loud. I remember looking at the faces of my new classmates. When my eyes flicked across his face, they paused. He had pale blond hair that fell into his eyes, which were the same color at the ocean. Now, most girls started the whole dating drama really young. I’ve always thought it to be stupid until now. It took me awhile to realize he had caught me staring. Quickly, I looked down. But not fast enough to catch a glimpse of his smile. I had never fallen for someone and here I was, hitting the ground face first.

The rest of the year went by with stolen glances and daydreams. Never a full sentence was uttered between us. Sure there was the occasional questions about homework, but nothing more. Then, at the start of eighth grade, I dared myself to tell him. So, I finally worked up the nerve to buy him a rose. So here I was.

The lady at the table smiled at me as I walked up.
“What color would you like dear?” she pointed the three piles. Red, pink, or white. White, I thought to myself, just like the color of his hair. Silently, I pointed to the white one. With gentle fingers, she lifted it up and handed it to me. I scrolled his name, and under from, I wrote anonymous. Now I know I really didn’t tell him that I liked him, but at least I’d know I did this. Close enough. Before I could regret my decision, I turned on my heel and out the door.

The next day was Valentine’s Day. Through all of my classes my stomach twisted with nerves and I whimpered at the thought of walking by him and seeing that white rose in his hand. Crap, what have I done? Unfortunately, you cannot slow time down by mere mind power, because sixth hour came. Now was when I would walk by him. Slowly I made my way down the hallway and out towards the portables. I saw his group of friends walk by but I didn’t see him. I was starting to panic when I spotted him walking at a slow pace, while staring at the white rose. As I walked by, he looked up at me. I looked him in the eye for only a few seconds, but I hoped he got the message. IT WAS ME! I wanted to scream. I GAVE YOU THAT ROSE! However, my shy side won out, and I walked on.

“Hey.” His voice stopped me in my tracks. Slowly, I turned around and saw that he was walking towards me. Now he was only a few inches away. Up close I could see his hair had faint tints of blond in them. His eyes held tiny bits of green that seemed to make his eyes glow. I tried hard not to run away.
“You gave me this?” he asked in barely a whisper. I nodded without looking up. I felt his hand barely brush the side of my head by my ear. But no word came out of his mouth. Just a gentle touch as if out of sympathy. I closed my eyes for I knew the tears where coming. He doesn’t like me. I knew all along that it was true, but facing the facts was harder than imagined. When I opened my eyes he was walking away without looking back. I heard the tardy bell ring. Shoot, I was going to be late for nothing, I thought bitterly. As I started to walk again, I lifted my hand to touch where I felt his fingertips where not so long ago. Instead of feeling my hair, I felt the rough edge of something plastic. I pulled whatever it was out of my hair and looked down at it. There lying in my hand was a red rose. On the side it said my name, and from: anonymous. I started to smile at myself. Not only did I have red hair, but it also is my favorite color. It stands for courage, for determination, and undying will. Red stands for love.