I dropped my lunch tray on the cafeteria table. Garlic bread bounced off my Snapple and dropped to the floor. Manhattan Academy’s staff had gone all out for Valentine’s Day, serving Lasagna d’amour (vegetarian and carnivorian) with heart-shaped garlic bread and romance salad.
“Do you believe this?” I gestured to the decorations.
“Careful, Ainsley.” My best friend Eric O’Connor chased a love meatball with his fork. “That fat baby’s about to shoot your eye out.”
Cupid dangled from the ceiling, pointing his arrow straight at me. “I’m traumatized,” I said. “Not only do I not have a boyfriend for this made up, manufactured Hallmark and Hershey holiday – now fat babies are out to get me.” I swatted Cupid aside, no doubt ruining my chances for love in this lifetime, and sat.
Eric nodded and shoveled a hunk of lasagna into his mouth. I suspected he secretly liked this Valentine’s Day stuff. Sharing a February fourteenth birthday with a bunch of silly paper hearts and Cupids must do something to a brain after a while.
“I think it’s fun.” Marjetta DeVries grabbed the frilly, crepe paper heart centerpiece from our table and fashioned a tiara for herself. “Like when we were in kindergarten and everybody got a shoe box full of cards.”