“CHARLOTTE!” The shout came up the stairs.

“Coming!” she shouted back, quickly pulling on her white socks and penny loafers, then stepping over to the window to push it back down into place.

Charlotte had to keep the red sweater covered up with her winter coat for the walk to school. It was still freezing outside. And today she had too much to carry, so she had to bring her book bag, which always made her feel juvenile. The hat would mess up her hair, of course, but she, Sue, and Barb always left a few spare minutes before the bell rang so they could go to the bathroom on the main floor, next to the principal’s office, and redo their hair. Charlotte brought a can of Spray Net, Sue brought the comb and brush, and Barb brought bobby pins and ribbons. By the time they were seated in first period, their hair was as perfectly coiffed and sprayed and pinned as if they had just come from Durstine’s Beauty Shop.

The first few periods at school dragged, and Charlotte had a hard time focusing on the lessons. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had followed her as she walked to school. She didn’t see anyone, even the few times she stopped and turned around. But the feeling was there. It made her walk a lot faster than she normally would have, and in the boring black pencil skirt that wasn’t exactly easy. As soon as she pushed through the front doors of the school, she stepped to the side and turned to look out through the window at the street, but she didn’t see anything unusual. Just other students and a few passing cars.

The whole day felt off. Darn Friday the thirteenth! Sue hadn’t said anything about her red sweater, Barb had forgotten the bobby pins, so they all had to use a lot more of the Spray Net, and Charlotte hadn’t seen Max Zimmerman at all. She wondered if he had even come to school today. After lunch Charlotte went to her locker, and when she opened it she found a pink envelope that had been slipped through the locker vent.

She pulled her hat down over her ears to keep out the wind. The temperature had risen to the mid-forties throughout the day, but the wind was still fierce. She had stayed behind for a half hour to do some research in the library on her history paper, and also to avoid having to walk behind any four-flushers who might’ve still been gossiping about the Daltons’ unfortunate situation.

All alone out in the late afternoon cold, she set a brisk pace, intent on getting home so that she could go to her room and reread Max’s valentine. It said he hoped to see her at the dance. As basic and noncommittal as that was, she still wanted to read it again. Having a crush made you a little stupid. She knew that.

Charlotte was going to the Valentine’s Day dance with her group of friends. It wasn’t like Homecoming or Prom, where you had to be asked to go. She didn’t need to be asked because she knew Max would be there, and he was “hoping to see” her there. Her penny loafers slapped over the damp sidewalk and she tried to keep her mind on the valentine, but, just like that morning, she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. If her hair wasn’t all smushed down by her woolen hat it would’ve been standing on end. Every half block or so, she’d stop and turn her head to listen. The whistle of the wind was all she could hear. When the streets of Wooster were empty, they were really empty, and it was late in the day and getting dark.