My Valentine

Five

Nightingale Phillips

"This is so stupid," I bitterly muttered as I marched up Mr. Valentine's driveway.

I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was approximately 6:37 AM. Why the hell was I going to Mr. Valentine's house this early in the morning? Only because of the two human beings that pissed teens off the most: Mom and Dad.

My loving parents finally decided on my punishment after Mr. Valentine left last night. Because I was the one that caused Mr. Valentine such grievances, I'd have to be the one to assist him in all his classes and also with Brooklyn for the three days of my suspension.

What annoyed me the most was that even though I thought I was free from the stresses of school, I'd still have to attend. I'd still have to be around the kids who I was with five days of the week. For some kids, suspensions are awesome, because they get to stay home, watch TV, eat and just relax. But for me, my parents would have died before they allowed me to have fun. I was to be punished for my sins.

They woke me up at 5:30 this morning...5:30! My mom stated with no signs of remorse that I was to be showered and downstairs by six. They then told me of their adorable little plan. My brain wasn't even able to function properly at the time, hence my outfit. I had on a gray jumper that I had cut low enough to show of my fairly flat stomach and some skin tight gray jeans.

I knocked on his door three time that morning and there was still no answer. Normally he'd have been out by now. I contemplated going home, but my mom would accompany me back so she could wake up the entire neighborhood by the time she was finished banging on the door.

"Mr. Valentine?" I called. I ran my hand through my hair and was about to turn away when I finally heard him reply.
"I'm coming Ms. Phillips!" His voice was muffled and I wondered what he was doing and why he was taking so long to get the door.
Then the door abruptly opened and what I saw left me gaping. Mr. Valentine was...covered in shit. There was a bit on his face, in his dark hair I could see tiny bits of brown and his T-shirt was covered in watery poo. There was just...poo all over.

As soon as the delightful scent of shit hit me, my mouth puckered in order to feebly hide my disgust.

Even though he had the disgusted expression of someone who was covered in waste, I could still sense the slight bit of panic in the way that he opened the door with wide, worried eyes.

"I think Brooklyn has explosive diarrhea."

His voice was covered in panic. I don't think he realised how revolting he looked and smelled at the time.
I held my hand hands up, gesturing for him to calm down.
"Where is he?"
-
"You can't use that!" I screamed at Mr. Valentine. Normally he'd be pissed that I was shouting at him, but we both in a state of panic. The little boy was howling in discomfort while I was trying to change the dirty sheets off his bed and Mr. Valentine was cleaning the mess Brooklyn had just made off the floor.
I don't know how he did it, but there was poo on the wall of which his head board stood, on his sheets and on the floor.

"Call your mother," he looked over at me. Blue eyes clouded with worry.
"My mom and can't do anything to help, Mr. Valentine," I shouted over Brooklyn's cries.

"Well then what the hell should I do!" He called back, I sensed a little irritation.

Let's not take your stress out on me, old man.

Why did men always lose their logic when kids got sick?

"Grab your keys and a clean T-shirt, we're going to the hospital," I said and I placed Brooklyn back on the bed.

"Birdie, it hurts."

The little boy's face was wet with tears and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was still a baby in my eyes, even though he was five...or six.