Yes. I'm pathetic. People like me who don't get flowers or candy on Valentine's Day need other ways to get a sugar high. Like, for example, writing hideously sappy Isadora/Klaus and then posting it...

Happy Valentine's Day.

Sorry about the goopy and utter schmaltziness of this story. Big word. Yay. I'm smart. Or not. Totally corny story, sorry.......

I like the thesaurus.

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So I'm a little left of center
I'm a little out of tune
Some say I'm paranormal
So I just bend their spoon
Who wants to be ordinary
In a crazy, mixed-up world
I don't care what they're sayin'
As long as I'm your girl
********************

Everything, even the simple act of saying 'Hi,' can become a mind-racking ordeal when it involved your crush. I should know. My name is Isadora Quagmire, I go to Prufrock Preparatory School, and I'm a triplet. That's all you need to know about me.

            Well, that was all you needed to know about me. Before the Baudelaires came to our school. Now, the number one thing on my agenda is Klaus Baudelaire, Klaus Baudelaire, and, oh yeah, did I mention Klaus Baudelaire?

            At least we sit at the same lunch table. Well, my brother is responsible for asking them to sit with us. Don't get me wrong. I'm very outgoing.

            But when it comes to guys?...Well, let's just say I sort of clam up.

            Like I was in this particular incident.

            "Uh..." My fingers clutched my lunch trey. If I said it too loud, I'd look like a nerd. Never mind that I am. If I said it too softly, I sound shy. Never mind that I am. "Hi," I breathed slowly, sliding into my seat.

            Klaus grinned. "Hi." Okay. He sounded normal. Everybody was normal except for me. Yay.

            "Hey." My brother, Duncan, sat down next to me. "Happy Valentine's Day, everybody."

            I stared at my breakfast. It didn't look very appealing. "Valentine's Day?"

            Yuck. Stupid holiday. Dumb, crass, commercialized, Hallmark holiday. Eww. It was so dumb. And I'd forgotten it was today.

            "Yeah. Duh." Siblings are so sensitive.

            "Oh," I said meekly. Duncan has a better memory than I do. "Okay."

            Violet, Klaus's sister, poked at her breakfast. "Did anybody else here, like have to make Valentines when they were little? And you had to give them to the whole class?" She smiled wistfully, and I tried to contain my shudder.

            I hate Valentine's Day. It's so...so...so obnoxious. It's like, sending a message. A message that basically is: If you aren't in a relationship, you suck. The whole holiday is about relationships. Nice ones.

            Okay, maybe I'm just jealous.

            Since I'm not in a relationship.

            But this is the first year I've wanted to be in one. With a specific guy.

            A guy who sat at my lunch table. A guy who...well, who was cute. And who could possibly like me back.

            So there wasn't a big chance. It didn't matter.

            Okay, fine.

            It mattered.

            Mattered too much.

********************

Hey, you are on my side
And they, they just roll their eyes
You get me
When nobody understands
You come and take the chance, baby
You get me
You look inside my wild mind

You read the lyrics

Dude, you rock!
Never knowing what you'll find
And still you want me all the time
Yeah, you do
Yeah, you get me
********************

            I have to sit next to this dumb girl named Carmelita Spats in class. She's extremely annoying. I hate her. Hateherhateherhateher.

            As I scooted into my seat, the bell rang. The teacher, Mrs. Bass walked in. Like a well-oiled, pigtail-wearing machine, Carmelita's hand shot up into the air.

            Mrs. Bass smiled patiently. "Yes? Miss Spats? Is there something you'd like to share?"

            Carmelita gave a grin that was as sweet a sugar.

            Poisoned sugar.

            "Yes, actually." She giggled. "I just wanted to tell everybody that I got a Valentine in my locker this morning. I wanted to share it with the class."

            She pulled a red card out of her pocket. "The writing is in glitter. It says—" she cleared her throat—"Roses are red, violets are blue. Will you be my Valentine—" she paused for dramatic effect—"You cutie, you."

            Mrs. Bass smiled. "Very nice, Carmelita. Moving on to the metric system. I've got some new objects for you to measure and—"

            Carmelita's hand went up again. Mrs. Bass's smile was beginning to look strained. "Yes."

            "Okay. I just wanted to say that I feel only the deepest pity for those of us who aren't lucky enough to get Valentines, or even, any kind of romantic attention." She looked pointedly at me. "I wish I could say I felt your pain, but," she heaved a sigh, "I've never known the sort of loneliness and rejection you must feel."

            I could feel everybody follow her gaze and stare at me. I became very interested with the initials carved into my desk. Who had carved R.C.=A.Q.T? I could only wonder...

            Mrs. Bass began droning again. Carmelita nudged me in the ribs. "Psst," she hissed. "I'll let you look at my card."

            She shoved the stupid thing at me. I caught of glimpse of the inside. "The guy who likes you writes in cursive and dots his 'i's with hearts?" I asked incredulously.

            Then it hit me.

            "You made your own Valentine!"

            She blushed. "I did not!"

            I giggled. She puffed up like a mating bird. "I most certainly did not! Anyway, you're just jealous. You'll never get a card as nice as mine!"

            Okay. That was uncalled for. I glared at her. "Yeah. I have a card. It's...in my locker."

            "Liar."

            "I'll show you at lunch."

            Why was I doing this? She was stupid. It didn't matter what she thought... But I still had to prove this.

            I could make a card during lunch and show it to her for the final half of the day. Yeah. That's what I'd do.

********************

So what if I see the sunshine
In the pouring rain
Some people think I'm crazy
But you say it's okay
You've seen my secret garden
Where all of my flowers grow
In my imagination
Anything goes
********************

There were five minutes until lunch was over as I hurried into the cafeteria. At least nobody noticed I was late!

            I had Valentine tucked into my notebook. Let the record indicate that the poem on it was one I'd thought up myself, and it was—if I may say so—better than the dumb cliché Carmelita Spats had read to the class.

            I grinned as I sat down at lunch.

            "Hi, everybody," I said.

            Klaus looked...happy? To see me? I was probably hallucinating. "Hi, Isadora! Where were you? I wanted to show you something!"

            I smiled. He was too cute to not smile at. "I was, um, in the bathroom."

            I had been there, honest. I had made the card in a stall.

            "Oh." He shrugged. "Can I talk to you?"

            "Sure." I leaned back. "Sure."

            He glanced around nervously. "No, um, not here. How about...I don't know..."

            "What?" I asked, confusion showing in my voice.

            "Um...well..."

            Violet pushed her chair back. "Hey, Duncan? Want to get more milk?"

            "Huh? No." Duncan tilted his head at her. "What?"

            Violet practically dragged him away. "Of course you want more milk, Duncan. Let's go."

            Duncan shrugged and followed her. Klaus smiled at Violet thankfully, but still a little nervously. I really had to idea what was going on.

            "Okay." Klaus looked down at his food and blushed. "See, I kind of, uh, wanted, uh, um, to give, uh..." He unzipped his backpack. Was he...?

            No. Of course he didn't.

            He reached into his backpack. He did. He didn't. He did.

            He passed me a card.

            He did!

            "I...oh my god..." I blushed. "Oh my god. Is this, like, for..." I pointed to myself, to shocked to speak.

            He nodded, still looking down.

            "Oh my god. Oh my god. It's like, shaped like a heart," I babbled, like a total idiot. "Oh my god."

            He looked up. His eyes were uncertain. "Do you...you don't like it?" He sounded hopeful and crestfallen all at once.

            I stared at the card. "Oh. My. God."

            He reached for it, blushing. He looked sad. "Sorry. I'm an idiot."

            I jerked my hand away. "You're an idiot if you think I'm ever giving this away."

            He tilted his head, looking as confused as I had been about two second ago. "You...you like it?"

            "Yeah! Of course I do! I mean..." I opened my notebook. "Here. I made this for you."

            He took it slowly. "Me?"

            I grinned. "Yeah. You. Of course."

            "You...you...I...uh...wow..."

            I smiled happily. "Yeah. Wow."

********************
I, I am all you want
They, they just read me wrong
You get me
When nobody understands
You come and hold my hand, baby
You get me
You look inside my wild mind
Never knowing what you'll find
Still you want me all the time
Yeah, you do
'Cause you get me

********************

            I slid into class next period, feeling much happier than when I'd left for lunch.

            "Do you have your card?" asked Carmelita loudly.

            I waved it in her face. "Yeah. Right here."

            I leaned closer. "I really feel sorry for you. Having to make your own card and stuff."

            By now about 99% of the class was watching us.  She opened and closed her mouth like she was drowning. "I—I would never—you—" She pointed a finger at me dramatically. "You made that card!"

            The other 1% was standing behind me. (A/N: Yeah, yeah, I suck at percentages...) He smiled at me, then turned to Carmelita. "No. I made it for her."

            Valentine's Day...

            Definitely the best holiday ever.

********************

Hey, you are on my side
They, they just roll their eyes
Yeah, yeah, yeah
'Cause you get me
When nobody understands
You come and take the chance, baby
You get me
When none of the pieces fit
You make sense of it
You get me
You look inside my wild mind
Never knowing what you'll find
And still I want you all the time

Yeah, I do
'Cause you get me
Yeah, oh, yeah, oh

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Hope your Valentine's Days are less un-romantic than mine.

Okay, I've made it clear I hate this story. What I don't hate? Reviews. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Pretty please with a cherry and a promise that if you review I'll post the songfic about the Quagmires' that I'm writing that is the first un-fluff thing I've ever written in my life not counting schoolwork?

Run on sentence. Never mind.

Just review.