Hearts and Llamas (Chocolate Lovers #3.5)(4)

"Hello mothers! Thank you so much for volunteering to help out with your child's Valentine's Day class party this year," the principal of Gavin's school announces to the twenty or so mothers gathered in the lobby of the elementary school a few days later.

As I stand in the corner with my arms crossed in front of me so none of the other mothers will try and talk to me, I glance around and wonder when the hell cupid puked all over these people. Every single mother is wearing red from head to toe. Red shirts, red sweaters, red jeans, red skirts, red and pink striped knee-high socks (no, I'm not joking). Half of them have God-awful headbands on their heads with red springy hearts or glittery pink flowers. A few of them even light up. I look down at my jeans and black t-shirt and shrug to myself. I may not be over the top like these freaks of nature, but at least I've worn something in honor of the day. The black shirt had been a gift from Drew when he found out I got roped into being the room mother for Gavin's Valentine's Day party. It has a picture of a voodoo doll on the front with pins and needles sticking out of it all over the place. Under the doll it says: Be mine. Or else.

"When your child's class party is finished, please make sure to sign your child out before you take him or her home. Have a Heart-stopping good time ladies!" the principal finishes.

I groan as I bend down and pick up the Wal-Mart bag filled with enough juice boxes for the twenty-four kids in Gavin's class and a cookie sheet full of red and pink frosted cupcakes. I had stopped feeling inadequate years ago when I came to these things and saw all of the Longaberger baskets decked out in pretty little Valentine's Day liners and filled with beautiful little bags of candy tied with perfect little bows or flawlessly made alligators on card stock with cutesy little sayings on them like "I'd snap at the chance to be your Valentine!" I have a full time job and a full time family to take care of. I don't have time to spend forty hours creating Valentines for a bunch of ten-year-olds who will just throw them in the garbage when they get home.

I follow the other moms down the hallway until I come to Gavin's classroom and step inside to complete and total anarchy. The kids had a day filled with Valentine activities and they are obviously already hopped on enough sugar to take down an elephant.

"Hi! Thanks for coming!" Gavin's teacher shouts over the noise. "Sorry about this. They just exchanged valentines and they're a little excited."

I feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat as I scan the room. I want to get down on my knees and weep at his teacher's feet. Instead, I stand up on a chair and shout at the top of my lungs.

"HEEEEEEEEEY! Sit down and be quiet or no one gets a cupcake!"

The kids stare at me for a minute, then everyone scrambles to their seats, everyone except for one little girl who stands directly across from me on the other side of the room. I step down off of the chair and stare at her. She is a tiny little thing with the most amazing head of hair I've ever seen on a ten-year old. It's full of natural curls and it hangs down to the middle of her back. She's impeccably dressed in a Valentine-themed outfit: a red long-sleeved shirt with pink and white hearts on it, a matching skirt, and red glittery shoes. The whole outfit is finished off with a cute little red bow in her hair.

"Hey, Mom!" Gavin greets me as he runs up to my side while the rest of his class, sans miss fashion plate over there, settles in their seats.

"Hey there! Who's the chick over there by the window staring at us?" I ask him as I pull the juice boxes out of the bag and take the foil off of the tray of cupcakes.

"Oh, that's Brooklyn," he says before running back to his desk.

I stop with my hand in midair over the top of the cupcakes, turn my head back over to the corner of the room, and then stand up straighter. We glare at each other for a few minutes, and I swear to God the room suddenly gets deathly quiet and I can hear that weird whistling song that always plays in those old westerns when two cowboys are getting ready for a gun fight at the O.K. Corral.

It's going down, and it's going down right the f*ck now. I don't care if there is a room full of witnesses. This slut is getting a piece of my mind.

I square my body towards her and wiggle the fingers of my hands as they hang down at my sides, wishing I wore worn my gun belt. Wishing I had a gun belt.

Little Skankasaurus Rex over there tilts her head from side to side, cracking her neck, as we stared each other down. No one in the classroom moves and all eyes are on the two of us. I'm pretty sure I see tumbleweed roll by, but it might have just been a wad of paper one of the kids had thrown. Whatever.

"Mom! What are you doing?" Gavin whispers loudly as he runs back up to me. "You're supposed to be passing out the cupcakes."

"Hey, remember when I used to ask you all the time when you were little who you wanted to marry when you grew up and you would always say, 'I just want to marry my mommy'?" I ask him without taking my eyes off of Fourth Grade Floozy.

"Um, sure. Whatever. Can we have the cupcakes now?" he asks, growing impatient with me.

"You still want to marry Mommy, right?" The desperation is clear in my voice.

"Mom, you know that's illegal, right? Seriously, we're hungry. Give us the sugar and no one gets hurt," Gavin threatens.

"You should go back to your seat, Son. Go back to your seat and cover your eyes. As a matter of fact, cover your ears too," I inform him distractedly.