Page 13 of My Bad Boy Valentine

I parked the truck, and we headed into the main building. The front office was alive with the usual morning chaos—phones ringing, a line of kids waiting for late passes—but the secretary waved us through when I mentioned we had an appointment with the guidance counselor. Linzie stuck close to me as we navigated the hallway. When we turned a corner, I spotted Caroline standing by a closed door labeled “School Counselor: Ms. Dupree.” The sight of her made my heart skip. She wore a soft gray sweater and a pencil skirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. She caught my eye and smiled, warmth radiating in that single look.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when we arrived. “Ready?”

Linzie swallowed, then nodded. I gave Caroline a nod too, silently thanking her for being here. My chest tightened withgratitude—this woman was giving my sister hope. We all stepped into Ms. Dupree’s office together. The counselor, a tall black woman with warm brown eyes, greeted us with a professional yet welcoming manner.

“Linzie, Mr. Slater, Ms. Belle,” she said, gesturing to three chairs arranged around her desk. “Thanks for coming.”

Caroline sat next to Linzie, while I took the seat on the other side. Ms. Dupree smoothed a stack of papers in front of her. “I have the results of Linzie’s educational evaluation. Now, before we begin, I want to assure you, Linzie, that nothing in here changes who you are. All it does is help us understand how you learn best.”

Linzie’s posture was stiff, and I rested a hand lightly on my sister’s shoulder, hoping she’d feel my support. Ms. Dupree began explaining the test scores—reading comprehension, decoding skills, writing fluency. I tried to follow along, but the jargon was dizzying. Caroline, however, seemed fluent in this language, nodding at key points, occasionally clarifying for me.

“In short,” Ms. Dupree concluded, “these patterns strongly indicate dyslexia. It’s a reading-based learning difference that affects how the brain processes written language. But Linzie is also testing above average in spatial reasoning and creativity—particularly in design tasks.”

I exhaled. “Does that… does that mean she’s actually, like, gifted in some ways?”

The counselor smiled. “She absolutely could be. Sometimes individuals with dyslexia exhibit incredible talents in areas involving visualization, problem-solving, and unconventional thinking. Her overall IQ is above average. She’s bright—and with the right accommodations, we can help her succeed in reading and writing tasks too.”

Linzie stared at her lap, tears forming. Caroline slid an arm around Linzie’s back. “Did you hear that, sweetie? You’re not failing because you’re lazy or stupid. You just need strategies that fit how your brain works.”

Linzie’s shoulders began to shake. “I… I thought I was just dumb,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Everyone else in class can read fast, and I just… I lose track of the letters, and my head hurts. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

My own throat tightened at her confession.God, kid, I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier. I reached over, placing a hand on her other shoulder. “You’re a great kid, Linzie. In fact, you’re better than great – you’re amazing. Remember how you used to build those incredible LEGO villages made for kids twice your age? And your sketches… you’ve always had a knack for drawing. I knew there was something special about the way your mind worked. This just proves it.”

She let out a muffled sob, leaning into Caroline’s embrace. I could see tears streaking down her cheeks. My chest felt raw and achy, but it was a good ache—like something was finally being set right.

Ms. Dupree smiled encouragingly. “We can arrange a 504 plan or an IEP, depending on your preferences, which will detail specific supports in the classroom. Extended test times, maybe one-on-one reading sessions or technology aids. You’ll have options.”

Caroline rubbed Linzie’s back, her voice gentle. “See? You’re going to have so many resources to help you shine. This is a good thing.”

Linzie sniffled, wiping her face. “Okay,” she breathed, exhaling a long shaky breath. “Yeah, I… thanks.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, shifting forward in my chair. “Thank you, Ms. Dupree,” I said, voice a bit rough. “And Ms. Belle.” I turned to Caroline, meeting her eyes. She smiled softly, understanding without words.

The counselor handed us a folder with recommendations, then asked Linzie if she had any questions. She shook her head, still looking overwhelmed, but not as defeated as before. Ms. Dupree encouraged her to reach out anytime she needed to talk. Then she stood, signaling the meeting’s end. Caroline gave Linzie a final supportive squeeze, and we stepped into the hallway together.

We’d only taken a few steps when Linzie tugged on my sleeve. “Uh… Knox? So… about the Valentine’s Dance on Saturday night. Everyone’s going—my friends, basically the whole school. Could I…?”

I blinked, remembering Caroline had mentioned volunteering as a chaperone for that. The notion of my sister wanting to attend a school dance—just days after learning she had dyslexia—felt like a little much. But the relief in her eyes, the spark of excitement… it made me want to say yes. “Sure,” I said, glancing at Caroline for confirmation. “If you want to go, do it. I’m glad you’re re-engaging with friends.”

Linzie’s face lit up, tears replaced by a growing grin. “Really? Thank you!” She paused, as though deciding something. “Caroline—uh, Ms. Belle—do you think you could, y’know, help me pick out a dress or something? If that’s okay, of course—I mean, I don’t want to impose or anything.”

I smothered a laugh, touched by my sister’s request. Caroline’s eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. “Of course! I’d love to. We can do a quick shopping trip—something tasteful, not too grown-up. I promise to keep it age-appropriate, if your brother’s worried.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I’m all for you wearing what you want, Linz, but let’s not go for super revealing, yeah?”

Linzie rolled her eyes. “I’m thirteen, not a wannabe adult film star. Relax.” But there was humor in her tone.

Caroline giggled, patting Linzie’s arm. “We’ll find something you’re comfortable in. And I’ll be there at the dance, chaperoning, so I’ll help if you need moral support.”

Linzie’s smile returned in full force. “Awesome. Thanks.” She glanced at me, a bit sheepishly. “Seriously, Knox… thanks for letting me do this. It means a lot.”

My chest felt warm. “No problem. You deserve some fun. We can talk more about… all this… once we get home, okay?”

She nodded, checking her phone with sudden teenage absorption. Caroline and I exchanged a look—one of those small, private smiles that made my heart turn over.God, she was beautiful.

After dropping Linzie at a friend’s place for dinner and a movie—she was practically bursting with excitement about the dance—I headed back to my shop with the intention of closing up early. I wanted to check inventory, then maybe swing by Caroline’s apartment with dinner.Girlfriend,I thought, tasting the word mentally. Did I dare call her that? Maybe not out loud. But in my mind, that’s how I saw her.

The sun had just set, leaving a purple glow in the sky. I parked my truck out front and began to head inside. The streets were quiet, a slight breeze stirring the cold February air. As soonas I stepped toward the shop’s front door, though, I heard a voice behind me.

---