Page 1 of Valentine Dare

1

Jenny

I was distracted thinkingabout the Valentine dance, even if we were still in summer. Dad said we had to keep a tight hold on our purse strings, so there were no planned holidays, they were postponed this year. Besides, everyone was looking forward to their final year of high school, and knowing it would be the last dance we would attend there, it gave us something to look forward to. It was all everyone talked about. I tried to forget about my surroundings, but I couldn’t until he smiled at me.

I knew who he was, Trent Edwards, the all-star quarterback and team captain. The one that all girls talked about, but not me. I was with Kurt, my boyfriend; he was on the same team too. He spent most of his time on the bench. He wasn’t a captain and didn’t have the girls swooning after him. Not like Trent.

Trent had something about him from his green eyes to his dark hair, oh, and let’s not forget that there’s three of him.

Well, not exactly. He’s one of a set of triplets at my high school.

I didn’t know what came over me, but for some reason I decided to change the mood of the table. Dad was drinking excessively, mom was quiet, and Kurt and his parents weren’t their usual cheerful selves.

“Well, I for one am looking forward to the Valentine dance. Not only because it’s the final dance of our year, but because Lacey Jenkins, who is really creative, is in charge of it.”

Shit, I said the wrong thing again. Lacey wasn’t to be mentioned in front of Kurt and vice-versa. They used to date or something, and I’d never known the details, but Kurt had told me more than once not to mention her name. Especially in his presence, so I bit my lip as soon as he cut his eyes at me. It was as if he had daggers in his hands and was stabbing them at my eyes as I blinked repeatedly and then grabbed my water, just so I wouldn’t have to look at him again. And even better, so I wouldn’t speak again. It was my cue to keep my mouth shut.

“I ordered sparkling water, and it’s taken one hour to come!” Kurt said as Trent leaned toward our table, asking if we needed anything else. We were at our country club, the same one we had lunch every Sunday at the end of the month with my parents and Kurt’s.

“Can’t get good staff these days!” Kurt spat out before Trent had time to apologize. There was no denying Kurt was jealous of Trent. His dad raised a glass as if he was agreeing with his son.

Trent moved away from our table, no doubt to get the sparkling water that Kurt had previously ordered. I didn’t remember him doing so, but whatever Kurt wanted, he got.

“Doesn’t that boy go to your school?” Walt quizzed as he moved his focus from his meal to his son.

“He does,” I agreed, thinking for once I wouldn’t let Kurt antagonize me and would say whatever I wanted. “He’s a straight-A student and captain of the football team, and he works here. I really don’t know how he does it all.”

“Genes!” Summer, Kurt’s mom, said as she wiped her oversized cheeks, which had tomato sauce on it. Then, she stuffed her face with the spaghetti bolognese as if she hadn’t eaten in a week.

I was just about to ask what she meant when she stopped eating and stared at me as if she was going to eat me next.

“You see, these poor people have to work hard. It’s built into their genes,” she explained, making me wonder if she was mocking me, or giving me a reason why Trent was so hard working.

I nodded, knowing this conversation had to end now. Kurt was turning a bright shade of red, and I could feel his eyes boring into me. This was the reason I hated Sunday lunches with them; they were arrogant and proud, just like their son, who seemed to be taking after his parents more and more every year. I said nothing, neither did my parents who knew full well that before Summer married her husband, she was one of them, one of the poor people, but it felt as if she had forgotten about it, and somehow wiped it out of her gene pool.

Dad did what he did best when they came out with something ignorant, which they did 99% of the time. He was a business associate of Walt’s, Kurt’s dad. He had no choice but to tolerate him, and I did the same to keep dad happy, but as much as I tried to please Kurt, I knew it was near enough impossible. Kurt whispered in my ear as dad rattled on about his new business venture.

“Don’t you ever humiliate me like that again! I saw you smiling at him. In public, I told you to not even look at him let alone acknowledge that piece of shit’s existence.”

He pulled away. I couldn’t take it anymore. This relationship was fine when we were twelve and our dads practically pushed us together, claiming it would be good for the family. Back then we didn’t care; we were young. Now, I was eighteen, fed up with Kurt saying we had money so we could treat the rest of the world like shit, and he was a man, so even worse he could treat me like crap.

I’ve dropped three dress sizes in the last six months. I’ve gone from being told what to wear when we go out, to even what to wear to school. My only savior was thinking we’d go to different colleges, and I wouldn’t have to end it; Kurt would get bored and move on. That way, I wouldn’t hurt the dealings that our dad’s had together. I was just about to say something when we were all distracted.

“Mr. Roger Hampton!” A man tapped my dad on the shoulder. I turned my head to Mom who put the flute of champagne that she had in her hand on the table.

The more I studied what was going on in front of me, the more I noticed that the man who tapped dad on the shoulder wasn’t any ordinary man, but FBI.

Mom screamed out, “Here? Why here?” Her blonde strands which were perfectly placed on her head, while we were seated at the table, looked as if they had turned into the result of an electric shock, as if they were up in flames.

“What in God’s green Earth is going on!” Walter demanded, as his face went a shade of red, but then he wasn’t the only one. I noticed before this interruption dad was smiling, happily drinking at the table. His smile had turned to a frown as he’d gone the same shed of red as Walter.

There was one officer by his side, two behind them, and as my head darted across the dining hall, I saw that we were surrounded by not only three FBI agents, but they’d come in numbers. I could have counted them, but it felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Mom screamed as she leapt up. “Why here? Why in front of all our friends?” Then she grabbed her purse and left the table.

I sat like a goldfish trying to get air as I listened to the man read dad his rights, and dad stood up calmly as if he was just going for a stroll with a friend, which was a lot more than Walter was doing. He was demanding answers from one of the FBI agents.

“Do you know who I am?”

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