Young Writers Society

"Mum!" I bounded into the house, holding up the pink envelope I'd just pulled out of the mail box. "Someone sent me a Valentine!" I ran into the kitchen and thrust the paper into her face.

"How nice!" She said, beaming as she pushed the card away from her eyes. "Who's your secret admirer?"

That one question prompted the most detailed investigation in the history of my life; eleven years.

Instantly I went into my bedroom and grabbed the phone. "Someone sent me a Valentine!" I squeled into the speaker, staring at the envelope. "Do you know if anyone likes me?"

My friend hummed to herself on the other end of the line for a minute. "Well I've thought about it, and the only possible guy is Matty Frigson."

"Batty Matty?" I wondered if I still wanted the Valentine. Yes; Batty Matty was better than no one.

"What does it say inside?" I realised that I hadn't actually opened it. I told my friend to gimme a sec and used my nail to rip open the envelope.

"Oh. It couldn't be Matty, this writing is way too neat." I read the card. "It says 'To a wonderful girl on Valentine's Day'. But that's all."

"Hmm. Neat writing you say? What about the newspaper boy, he writes neat doesn't he?"

I thought over the possibility. "He would be able to place the Valentine in my letterbox without anyone being suspicious."

"It's got to be him!" My friend said, and excused herself for lunch.

The next morning I sat on the front lawn with the card in my pocket, deciding what I would ask the newspaper boy to secretly find out if he was my admirer.

When he came along and put a paper in my letterbox, I stood up. "You came by yesterday, but didn't leave a newspaper. Did your forget?"

He shook his head. "No way did I come by on a Sunday. I ain't missing out on my cartoons."

I bit my tongue in frustration. "So it wasn't you who left the card?" He laughed and walked away.

I sat there, trying to figure out who could have left my Valentine. My neighbours were all too old, and my friend had confirmed that no one at school had written it. "Who has neat handwriting, isn't my neighbour and doesn't go to my school?" I thought out loud. "My secret admirer has to be the son of one of dad's colleagues!"

I caught my dad just before he went to work. "Do you know if any of your work mates have kids?"

"Looking for friends, are we?" He smiled. "Well, there's Lilly, she's eight. But no one else at work has kids. Except me of course." Dad ruffled my hair. "Would you like to visit Lilly one day?"

"No thank you." I walked away, frustrated. Who was my secret admirer? There were no possible suspects left!

I entered the house and went to the fridge to grab a juice box. I froze. There on the fridge was the shopping list, and it was written in the exact same handwriting as my Valentine.

"Mum!" I yelled, and she ran into the room as if the house was fire.

"What is it, honey? Did something happen?"

I pulled the pink envelope out of my pocket and held it up. "Are you my secret admirer?"

A gigantic grin engulfed mum's face and she opened her arms wide like she was expecting a big hug. "Yes!"