Chapter 1: Valentine’s Day Virgin

Valentine’s Day is a big deal at our school.

Cherry red and snow-white streamers cover the bland hallways while peach pink and watermelon purple paper hearts appear randomly on metal gray lockers.

Our class has already been interrupted three times, two boy cupids and one girl faerie, with ‘Will you be mine’ and ‘I love you’ letter deliveries.

The administration loves it. Teachers dress up. Even our dower science teacher, our old, red-faced, hairy-chested science teacher, slouching in front of our class, with his jiggling belly hanging over a baggy off-white diaper, has caught the spirit. Golden glitter winks at us between his coarse chest and leg hair. The mold-green crown keeps slipping on his sweaty bald head while he gestures with a tarnished golden mini bow with the matching arrow.

Laughter threatens to erupt inside me. Teacher Kowlandski is the most straight-edge teacher ever, not even smiling when he accidentally makes a science joke. Everyone claims he is secretly a robot, but I disagree. They program robots to smile occasionally.

“Protons are...”

Our flushed-faced teacher stops at the sweet knock at the door.

A senior cheerleader, Louise maybe, slips in, wearing a candy red flared mini-skirt with chili red panties peeking out. Her top is just two strips of candy apple red fabric. Large pale breasts spill out the sides. Peach-pink faerie wings and twin caramel brown ponytails bounce with each step. Excitement shines from her coconut-freckled face as her bright hazelnut eyes sparkle under bright blue eye shadow. In the harsh LED light, her smile sparkles between spicy pink lips.

“Like, I’ll just be a second, Mr. Kowlandski. Mark, where is Mark?”

Geeky Mark raises his hand, nervous to be called out. Brian, Mark’s best friend, vibrates beside him.

Like me, they are in grade nine and experiencing Valentine’s Day at this school for the first time. Both are under-dressed in jeans and t-shirts; Mark’s dull red and Brian’s a simple white.

The red faerie skips, twirls, and dances across the hard beige splotched linoleum floor while her breasts ricochet under the thin strips of fabric. Her nipples risk flying out, but they stay hidden.

“Like, Mark, are you ready?”

The expectant Valentine faerie rushes to her target, curtsies, and starts to hum.

Everyone sits straighter in excitement. We are all virgins to the singing telegram.

“If you want my body.”

“And you think I’m sexy.”

“ ... Come on sugar, tell me so!”

She sings and pirouettes, causing one raspberry-red nipple to escape.

“Oohs” and “right-ons” flare up around the room.

Not missing a beat, she repositions the little nub.

“If you really need me, just reach out and touch me.”