“Allie helped me with it,” Jack admits.
“I can tell,” I say, and laugh, thinking about Allie, and her new pink and silver light-up sneakers and the fact thatshe’sa kindergartner now.
I’m still not sure what all this means, but then Jack puts the box on my lap, and I open the lid. Inside, there are stacks of tinylittle envelopes. And boxes of message hearts and red heart-shaped lollipops and Valentine’s chocolate.
“What the…” And then, glancing at the names written on the tiny little envelopes, it hits me: kindergarten. Valentine’s Day.
“Someone—notme—stole all your valentines, and now, I’m returning them.”
I paw through the envelopes, and sure enough, everyone’s represented: Casey, my best friend at the time, Maya, Miya, and Myra (the names that sometimes drove the teacher crazy).
I tear open the first one. It’s Tiny Toon Adventures. Then the next… Rugrats. And the Magic School Bus… and Powerpuff Girls?
“How did you…?”
“Found them on eBay,” he says, and grins. “Vintage valentines.”
“I can’t believe you did this.” I rip into all of them, laughing at each new familiar cartoon face.
“Now they’re not actuallysignedby our classmates, since… it’s nearly impossible to track them all down.”
“You tried?”
“I might have. The only one I had any success with was Casey.”
“My old best friend!” I cry. I grab her envelope. It says, “Piggy Jack is damn fine now. When did this happen?” I have to laugh at that. Then I flip over the card and see she’s written a postscript. “Also: This one is a keeper. Seriously. You don’t need a cootie catcher to tell you that.”
She’s right.
I open one more. From Stella.
“She wasn’t in our class!”
“Yes, but when I told her what I was doing, she insisted.”
I read her card. “This is just another part of self-care. Choosing a partner right for you. Now, go on and be happy. You deserve this.”
I glance up at Jack. I do, I think. I do deserve this.
Jack reaches back into the grocery bag. “I have our yearbook, too.” He pulls the small, paperback photo book out of the grocery bag. I grab it from his lap. I flip to my page. I’m smiling too big, my eyes like tiny, thin slits. In grade school, I never quite figured out how to smile without looking like the sunlight wasn’t blinding me.
“I look like such a dork! I’ve gotpigtails.”
“You’re adorable,” he says, and then I flip to his page. He’s cute, even though a little chubby. He doesn’t deserve the nickname “Piggy Jack.” Not at all. He looks a little pensive as he stares at the camera.
“I hated having my picture taken,” he explains. “I hated everything about grade school.” He looks at me. “Except you.”
My heart is going to burst. I lean across the swing set and kiss him. I want to kiss all that hurt away, now and forever. “I love you,” I say.
“Oh… you’re all right,” Jack teases.
I punch his arm.
“Ow! I’m kidding. I love you, too.” I turn my attention back to the box. I dig into my box and open the last valentine, but soon realize there’s one missing.
“Jack?” I dig around in the candy hearts, chocolate kisses, and the lollipops, worried that I’d missed it. “Where’s the one from you?”
That’s when Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small white envelope. He hands it to me, a smile on his face.
