Rhymes With Cupid by Anna Humphrey Page B

is nauseating, but a lot of girls like this kind of thing.”
    I picked up a card with Tweetie bird on the front. I opened it and read: “I’m lucky to have a tweetheart like you, who’s caring and loving and wonderful, too.” I stuffed it back in the slot. “Tweetheart isn’t even a real word.”
    I picked up another with a pastel-colored painting of a couple dancing on the front. The woman was in a flowing red gown. “My dear, my heart, my lady in red. When I’m with you, I feel inspir-ed. Happy Valentine’s.” I closed the card and made a face. “Really? Since when has the word ‘red’ rhymed with the word ‘inspired’? Since never. But that’s what you’ll find in half these cards. It’s like the companies can’t afford to hire poets who know how to rhyme anymore. Sad.”
    Patrick was smiling. “Well, what about this one? Girls would think this is cute, right?” He handed me a card with a picture of a baby riding a motorcycle.
    “Baby, you get my engine going.” I handed it back. “Okay, first of all. Gross. Not cute. And, second, the joke card is a huge cop-out. It’s like you’re saying, ‘I really like you, but I’m too much of a chicken to actually come out and say it, so I’m giving you this picture of a baby in a motorcycle helmet instead.’ Again, kinda sad.”
    “You know you’re not the world’s greatest salesperson, right?” he teased, putting the card back.
    “Hey,” I retorted. “I’m trying to do you a favor here.” I picked out a card with a simple red heart on the front, set against a silver backdrop. “This is the least bad one we have.” I handed it to him and watched him open it.
    “It’s blank,” he observed.
    “Exactly,” I said. “If you like someone, you should care enough to write your own message. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve always thought.”
    He flipped the card over to check the price, then put it back. “I’ll think about that one,” he said.
    Dina had finished with the paper guy and was holding the picture of Oreo, the panda, in the air to get Patrick’s attention. He gave her a little wave to let her know he’d be there in a sec.
    “On the other hand, though,” I added quickly. “Some girls are really into the corny stuff.” I hoped he’d get my drift. “We just got this adorable one with puppies wearing floppy hats. Dina, for example, loves it.” That was an understatement. She’d practically melted into a puddle of goo the first time she’d seen it. “I can show it to you tomorrow. But right now you’d better go meet the bear,” I said.
    “Right,” he answered, “and pay for this.” He slid the nonsploodgy pen out from behind his ear and turned to go.
    “Hey!” I called, getting his attention. He stopped. “Do me a favor, okay? Don’t promise Dina you’ll go to her party unless you really mean it.”
    “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” he asked.
    “I don’t know.” I thought of the girl he wanted to buy a valentine for—his “not exactly girlfriend.” If it wasn’t Dina he was talking about, I didn’t want him leading her on. She was way too sensitive for that kind of thing. “It just means a lot to her, okay? So if you say you’re going, then show up.”
    “Oh, I’ll be there,” he said. “Black-and-white snacks? Endangered species bingo? Are you kidding me? It’s gonna be awesome. Ever since you told me all about it yesterday, I’ve been counting down the days.”
    I gave him my best apologetic look. “About that . . .” I started, but he seemed to have already let the subject drop.
    “Don’t worry,” he continued. “I’m going. Wouldn’t miss it. It’s gonna be total panda-monium.” I rolled my eyes at his stupid joke, but there was something in his tone that put me at ease. There was no question in my mind: Patrick might be annoying, but he was mostly a decent guy. I could tell that he meant what he said.

Chapter 6
    T rue to his word, Patrick didn’t push me as hard in our driving