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Now, garlands of blush pink and red hearts hung from the lights and framed the arch, and two fat statues of Cupid with wreaths of roses on their heads had replaced the marble busts of former headmasters that usually stood by the entrance.
I was as petrified as I imagined they’d been at being re-homed.
What was more, envelopes in matching colours were stuck to each locker, “You’ve got Mail” written in big, glittering letters on the front.
I quirked a brow at Pri, who wore a deeply amused tug to her lips.
“It’s like Cupid vomited all over the lockers.”
She tipped her head back in a bubbly laugh that echoed all over the hall, before pulling me onwards, to my own locker, afflicted with the same abomination.
A little sticker was taped right below the envelope, the same curly letters spelling my full name, in case my many admirers had trouble figuring out which was mine.
I shook my head, horrified, before bursting into a disbelieving, snorting laugh.
“Please tell me I’m hallucinating this,” I whisper-hissed, as if the Cupids outside might hear.
“Oh, please, you’re being a tad dramatic,” she chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s tradition. People gift all kinda things: sweets, notes, letters, tickets…” She gave me a coy smile. “Condoms.”
Before my eyes, someone shuffled over and slid something like a small candy bar with a note into the locker across. A squint told me it belonged to Oliver. I wasn’t sure what was more shocking: that Oliver, who was terrified of women, actually had an admirer—or that people were seriously doing this.
“It’s a huge thing at Whitmoore,” she said, addressing the disbelief dripping off me.
“Check yours out.” She nudged me with her elbow, grinning. I plunged my fingers in and clutched a handful, which drew a delighted squeal out of her.
“Oh my god, someone’s popular!” She giggled, shuffling closer to have a nosey.
Among notes and pieces of candy lay a little tub of lip balm, packaged by hand. I opened it and twisted the tub, taking a big sniff of vanilla and something else I couldn’t name.
A genuine, warm smile tugged at my lips and a bubble swelled in my chest, dispelling the shock and mortification.
“Thanks,” I murmured, and gave her a little hug.
“It’s not only for crushes, so…”
She pulled back with a grin and made a show of drawing me a map to her locker in the air.
“My, you’re subtle.” I chortled fondly and tucked the lip balm inside, along with my notebook and supplies.
My gaze dropped to my forgotten handful, and my brows drew into a furrow.
“Don’t be so shocked. You’re glowing lately—and clearly, I haven’t been the only one to notice,” she said in that sing-song tone of hers that made me both roll my eyes and smile indulgently.
“Glowing? I look like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
Most of the notes were signed with names I hadn’t given much attention to. Their content ranged from run-of-the-mill, innocent compliments to propositions that had my cheeks aflame in seconds.
“Ah, I forget this is your first time.” A booming laugh rang out from behind us, before Liam bounded closer, greedy hands reaching out to flick through my valentines.
“Excuse you,” I huffed, shoving them in my locker and snapping the door shut.
“Did you get the rock? That one’s from me.” He piped up, undeterred by my protests.
My fingers dug back into the pouch, closing around a little flat pebble that, upon closer inspection, was black with shimmers of green in it.
“For the rock-skipping contest. You’re not getting out of it.” He grinned, wrapped his arms around our shoulders, and led us out of the locker area without checking his.
We were a few steps away from the door—and escape from the sugary sweetness I hoped hadn’t spread to the rest of campus—when a commotion drew our eyes sideways.
