Before 19, Volume 3, 2014
Valentine’s Day
Valentine’s Day By Sophie Lieber Valentine’s Day could easily be one of the most nerve wracking days of the year at The Masters School. As a freshman, you quickly find out that it’s a mad dash to receive your mountain of erratically cut slips of white and salmon paper with your name scribbled all over them in your best friend’s recognizable bubbly handwriting. That pile of thin paper quickly becomes a full bouquet of blush, rosy carnations… or you wish. You envy the polished senior girl who seems to have received an endless supply of those stupid, floppy flowers that die the next day. She strides throughout Masters Hall with her bouquet trophy in hand as every girl’s eye realizes she’s won the competition. Then, it’s sophomore year and you rip off those stapled slips once again, but this time you notice an unsurpassable blush-colored note with unrecognizable skinny scribble. And then it all changes and those carnations definitely don’t seem foolish anymore. I brought this note and carnation over to my friends, unsure what to do with it. It read, “We should talk sometime –Evan Campbell” with a small smiley face. As a group of anxious, unstable, and insecure fifteen-year-old girls, together we stared at this note, speechless. “Sophie, he obviously meant to send it to me. He just got our names mixed up,” Samantha teased. “Could this be a joke?” “Maybe he misspelled someone’s name…” I laughed. Warmth shot up my face and I knew that my complexion was now a fiery red. Evan Campbell was a senior, a member of The Pack, a group of friends that dominated the library of the school. But unlike many of his friends, he never wore a hat on his head or walked with confident swagger. To grab The Pack’s attention, all you had to do was take a step inside the library. To avoid eye contact with these boys, my sight would dart around the room from the clock to lacrosse stick, back, front, windows, head down. I routinely perfected my tunnel vision in order to walk through the library in peace. As I approached my friends, I could feel their eyes beating on my back. To my friend group, they were the male equivalent of Mean Girl’s The Plastics. They were two years older, and their confidence intimidated us. They invented their own language, and half the time they were making fun of us while the other half they were praising, but we could never tell which was which because we didn’t know what “tss tss” meant. They had strength in numbers, traveling as a pack and trading inside jokes. But behind
their wolf pack façade, individually the boys were incredible people. They were smart, kind, and complimentary, and we were constantly seeking their approval. We practically worshipped the ground they walked on. They were ridiculous, and we loved it. “Well, you know you have to go thank him now.” I couldn’t fathom why he would want to talk to a sophomore like me, and now I had to go up to him?! I spent most of that day hiding out in the bathroom trying to wrap my head around how and when I could properly approach him to thank him. This shouldn’t be that hard. Just go up and say thank you. That simple. I walked into the library, and we had crossed paths unexpectedly. I noticed the stubble on his face and piercing, slim eyes. Startled, I began to walk over to him. With every step I took, I lost each word I had prepared to say. It wasn’t his physical presence that was intimidating; his short height did not reflect his notable personality. However, it was the small smirk that emerged on his face and his gaze, which was straight into my eyes. So now I was standing in front of this senior boy mesmerized within his charming smile, speechless, and bright red. Definitely not how I had planned. Now, I was on my own. “Um, I just wanted to thank you for the carnation.” “Anytime.” He smirked. “What’s your number? We should hang out sometime.” “Yeah, for sure,” I sputtered. And I quickly stumbled to remember my phone number as I exchanged phones with him. I remember that conversation as the exchange of numbers and uneasy feelings. I had finally gotten this confrontation over with and marched back over to the comfort of my friends with a new spark concealed within my suppressed smile. “What’s all the excitement for Soph?” Amanda questioned. I proudly displayed the new contact within my phone. “So he’s still dragging out this little mix-up?” Samantha joked. “Very funny Samantha. I guess so.” And I ran off to World Religions. Time passed by, but my fear and nervousness only grew greater. His poise had the ability to erase all of my thoughts. My mind would go blank and I had no idea where to start. I tried to steer clear of his friend group’s intimidating presence, but only then did it seem like they were around each corner. Each time I ran into Evan and The Pack, they would snicker and immediately erupt in laughter. My constant struggle to find the right words had them labeling me as Spacey Sophie. “Still in space today, Sophie?” I was evading the situation not
Before 19, Volume 3, 2014 because I didn’t enjoy his company, but because I was trying to save myself from embarrassment. April 20th, 2012 finally arrived. My friends and I had been planning this day for a while. Equipped with red solo cups and ping pong balls we had prepared to throw down the first sophomore party. Together, Samantha, Amanda and I had composed a text to invite Evan. The response: “Oh really? I’ll try to roll through. We’ll see, kid.” The reaction: squeals and jitters. In Evan Campbell’s nonchalant language, that meant that he would be there. Well into the night, upperclassmen were pouring down the stairs and I spotted The Pack through a haze of Ketel One, parading their way down the stairs in flannels and T-shirts. My liquid confidence had encouraged me to greet Evan. Soon enough we were standing behind the nauseating green ping pong table together, sinking shots into those plastic cups. The night quickly passed and chills were sent throughout my body as I stood outside, resting against the isolated greenhouse. He prevailed and the chills quickly disappeared when he grasped the pockets of my narrow jeans, pulled me in, and kissed me. Jittery feelings glazed over me, but on the inside I had finally reached a calm. After a few days I realized that the calmness on the inside never really left me. I could walk through the halls with my shoulders back. I now knew that someone had noticed me, and that was something I had never experienced before. Evan’s witty confidence impressed me. He always knew exactly what to say and his lips would run so smoothly. I never really knew how to take the constant stream of sarcasm and jokes that came from him, but his motivation to continue talking to me had encouraged my nerve. It was a cool April day, and I tried to keep warm in my creamy, powder blue cashmere sweater. At lunch Amanda, Samantha, and I were sitting around a table in the library and by the smirk on their faces I could tell they had something to say. Instead, they both got up and bolted to class and I quickly followed, looking down at a text as I walked out of the library. I lifted my head to the sound of laughter and stepped back to realize that Evan was standing in front of me next to a computer screen that said “Sophie, will you go to prom with me? –Evan Campbell.” With rosy cheeks, I quickly responded, “Yes,” and he pulled me into the warmth of his embrace. Within our new “promlationship,” Evan took me under his wing into a happiness that I so desperately needed. I could travel throughout the halls with
Valentine’s Day some of Evan’s poise that he passed on to me. I would sit and talk to him, trying to let the words flow naturally. “Are you in space right now, Soph?” “No Evan, I’m right here with you.” Two years later and I can almost say that talking to him has become a bit easier. With my newfound confidence and “sass,” as my friends like to call it, I am pleased to find the words “Evan Campbell- iMessage” light up on my phone screen. I only assume this feeling occurs because my last momentous encounters with him had left me well and feeling special. After not seeing him for a while, I only realized this major confidence change when my friends and I recently got together with The Pack. While playing a game of Kings, he was asked who he was most excited about seeing that night and as I nonchalantly motioned towards myself he pointed over to me, smirked and said, “This one.” In my mind, I could see my sophomore self cringing and turning a hue of bright red, but I had shed that skin. I will never let go of the words he left me in yearbook. “You, Sophie Lieber, made the end of my senior year as great as it was. I got to go to prom with my biggest crush… so it looks like you’ll go down in Evan Campbell history…. Before I met you, I was always curious when I saw you in the halls, and not because you’re beautiful (which you are) but because you just kinda had this simple kindness about you.” He always had a way with words that made an impression on me. Now a senior, I can see that his influence on me was only amplified because he was the first. Evan Campbell was my first real crush and taught me a thing about composure throughout high school. Looks like he will go down in Sophie Lieber history.