Page 1 of Puck Me, Valentine
1
Chapter 1
The turtle blinks at me with ancient, judgmental eyes as I crush the antibiotic tablet into powder.
“I know, Gerald,” I mutter, mixing the powder into a tiny dish of mashed squash. “You think I’m overreacting. But that shell rot isn’t going to heal itself, is it?”
Gerald, a red-eared slider someone abandoned in a Walmart parking lot last month, withdraws slightly into his shell. Classic Gerald.
“Val!” Liz’s voice echoes down the hallway of what I’ve optimistically dubbed the Campus Animal Rescue and Education Center—though everyone else calls it “that room with the sad hamsters.” “Did you hear Monica’s opening segment?”
I glance at the ancient radio perched on the filing cabinet, currently silent. “No, why?”
Liz appears in the doorway, her hair in about six different braids, each a different color. She’s holding two coffee cups and wearing her signature expression of amused concern. “She’s going full passive-aggressive today. Heritage week theme. Playing exclusively 80s love ballads and making pointed comments about ‘certain people’ occupying ‘valuable creative spaces.’”
My stomach sinks. “She’s still mad about the rehearsal room.”
“Mad?” Luke pushes past Liz, immediately crouching down to peer at Gerald. “She’s conducting a goddamn psy-op on you, mate. Last week she played ‘Every Breath You Take’ five times in a row. The stalker song, Val. Five times.”
“That’s actually not what that song’s about—”
“We know what it’s about,” Liz interrupts, pressing a coffee into my hands. “You’ve explained Sting’s creative intentions to us multiple times. That’s not the point.”
I sigh, setting down Gerald’s food dish. He immediately begins eating, which is at least one victory for the day. “I’ve been looking for alternative spaces for her band. The new music building has—”
“A six-month waiting list, we know.” Luke straightens up, somehow managing to look sympathetic and exasperated simultaneously. “You’re too nice, you know that? Monica’s the one who should be finding solutions. You actuallyneedthis space for, you know, keeping living creatures alive.”
“Her band is important to her.”
“And you’re important to the twelve animals currently residing here, plus however many you rescue this semester.” Liz checks her watch. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be heading to the sports complex?”
The coffee suddenly tastes like ash in my mouth. “Right. The hockey team.”
“And the volleyball team with cuties,” Luke reminds me cheerfully. “Equal opportunity athletic exploitation.”
“It’s not exploitation. It’s… community partnership. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s you desperately trying to meet the student activities board’s impossible conditions so they don’t shut you down.” Liz’s voice is gentle but firm. “Which is why Luke’s coming with you for moral support.”
“I am?” Luke looks startled.
“You are,” she confirms. “I have Organic Chem lab. Someone needs to make sure Val doesn’t just leave the flyers with some random person and bolt.”
She’s not wrong. That was absolutely my plan.
The radio crackles to life, and Monica’s honeyed voice fills the room. “Good afternoon, campus! This is Monica Vance with Retro Replay, your daily dose of nostalgia here on 94.7 FM. Coming up, we’ve got a Valentine’s Day special—yes, I know, the holiday of forced romance and commercialized affection is still three weeks away, but we like to plan ahead here at Retro Replay. Unlike some people who make long-term commitments to spaces they can’t actually maintain.”
I close my eyes.
“But first,” Monica continues, her tone shifting to something more serious, “a reminder to stay safe out there. Police are still investigating the biker gang incident near the east campus apartments last weekend. Three students reported being harassed, and there’s been increased activity in the area. Campus security is recommending the buddy system after dark, so grab a friend, folks. Or, you know, a large turtle for protection.”
Luke snorts. “Was that a Gerald reference?”
“She’s actually being helpful,” I point out, even as my face heats. “The safety announcement is important.”
“The turtle comment was unnecessary,” Liz says darkly. “Okay, you two need to go. You mentiones that the hockey team practices until four-thirty, and you want to catch them before they hit the showers.”
The mental image that springs to mind is deeply unhelpful. Specifically, the image of one particular hockey player, water streaming over—
