‘Just spit it out, honey,’ Mrs. Jones encouraged. ‘Jake asked me to marry him,’ she blurted out in a rush. Her mother just smiled, ‘Asked yo... to wh-‘ ‘Well, I’ll be damn,’ interrupted her father from the doorway, sneaking up on the women. ‘That boy finally came around and asked you to marry him. ‘Bout damn time, if you ask me,’ Mr. Jones finished with a knowledgeable air. ‘Gah, good thing no one asked you, Donald,’ Mrs. Jones snapped back at her husband. Turning to her daughter, Daisy could see. Apparently not everyone had worked the shiny new toy syndrome out of their systems.We made large valentines in Art and wrote poetry in Creative Writing, read famous love poems in English III and joined together in Home Ec to make chocolates. Everywhere there was pink and red, hearts and lace and cupids. Then there was me, the one girl in school who refused to look festive, wearing dark colors and no make-up, not even really getting into the spirit. Score one for the odd ball.The skies were. More

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