By Elaine Rassel
How many times in the past have kids been bullied and nothing ever done about it? This story makes up for lost time. The present story has the girl as nasty as her mother. So, let’s go on with the story.
R. Scott Jones’ memory needed no jogging—tomorrow was Valentine’s day. It was thirty years ago when he left his homemade valentine for Florence. Fourteen years old and already in love. It had to be love if he would miss an afternoon of protecting his for and throwing snowballs. None of his friends suspected why he wasn’t with them and he wasn’t about to tell them why.
How many times had he taken something off that card because he didn’t want Florence to think he was pushy. This was his first love. He thought she felt the same way toward him by the way she always giggled when she saw him.
February 14—the day was here. He had worried all evening and into the morning wondering what she would think of his valentine. He looked around to see no one was looking, and opened her empty locker quickly and quietly. He put the valentine on the top shelf. She was sure to see it before she hung her coat.
Scott, as he preferred being called instead of his God-given name Ralph, turned the corning of the locker room and waited. Soon his wait was over as Florence arrived at her locker. Oh, no! That nosey Betty was with her.
Betty was the girl he tried to avoid. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she was trying to get his attention. She was always dropping her handkerchief in front of him and standing there looking helpless until he reached down and picked it up. He hoped she wasn’t trying to stake him out. Jim, his friend, had snickered and said, “I think she’s jealous of Florence. Haven’t you noticed how the boys pay attention to Florence?”
“What’s this?” Florence asked as she went to put her book on the shelf.
“Oh my,” said Betty, “aren’t you the lucky one. Someone left a valentine off for you. And it’s homemade at that.”
He could see Florence was embarrassed. By this time he was wishing he hadn’t left it off. The valentines he had admired in the stores were too expensive for him. At the time he saw nothing wrong with making one for Florence.
“It had to have come from Ralphy,” Betty said. “I didn’t know you liked him.”
“I don’t,” Florence said. “I have no idea why he would leave off such a stupid valentine.”
“I have an idea,” Betty said. “Let’s make one for Ralphy that no one else would ever make. One that would make him understand you don’t want anything to do with him.”
“I don’t know,” Florence said hesitantly. “What if he finds out we left it for him?”
“I can see this job is for me only,” Betty said. “Never mind, I’ll make Ralphy one he’ll never forget.”
The valentine Betty left for him was one he never forgot. All these years he just couldn’t erase that valentine from his mind.
Just last month he and a male friend had their fortunes read at the carnival. David laughed when the gypsy said to Scott, “Some day soon, you will repay a troublesome debt back. It will not be to the one who inflicted pain on you, but to a member of that person’s family. The trouble you experienced for many years will finally be over.”
When David questioned Scott, all he could say was, “I have no idea what she is talking about.”
Scott’s thoughts were interrupted when the clock was striking 7:30 am. “I only have a half-hour to get to school,” he thought aloud. Scott was a theology teacher at a Roman Catholic high school in Phoenix.
Today his class was having an exchange of valentines. “Don’t you think these kids are a little old for an exchange of cards?” asked Mr. Morse, the science teacher.
“Goodness no,” Scott replied. “What’s the harm in having a little fun to remember valentines day. Some of these kids wouldn’t know anyone cared about them if it wasn’t for this exchange of cards.”
Scott had thought all night about these cards. Maybe the gypsy was right. Why not pay back a debt from thirty years ago? This would be his last chance. Betty’s son, Herbert was in his theology class.
This would be a perfect time to give Herbert the valentine Betty had given him. Maybe if she saw how her son reacted, she’d understand how he felt so long ago when he received it.
The card was turning yellow with age but otherwise was in good condition. Scott put it in a new envelope so it wouldn’t be noticed. It didn’t look any more different than the other fourteen valentines. As he passed Herbert’s desk, he nonchalantly handed it to him and said, “This one was made especially for you.”
The others thought their valentines from Mr. Jones were unique. Homemade valentines were something different for them. They were used to the ones that came in packages and pretty much all had the same verse.
Scott doesn’t know why he did what he did next. He used an eraser to write “Die” on the blackboard as he watched Herbert open his valentine.
Herbert literally freaked out when he saw what was on that valentine. It said, “I hate you, I wish you would die.” He was so upset; he went home sick.
Herbert’s mother reported the incident to the police. Mr. Jones was placed on administrative leave. Herbert’s mother is not shutting up about what happened. At card club last evening, she told the story about how her little Herbert was so humiliated and scared by this valentine. After finishing the story with, “Scott isn’t commenting on this at all. However, my question to you ladies is, ‘Why would anyone be so cruel to give this kind of valentine to someone who they cared about?’”