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“I don’t get it, Anne.”
Marcy says this one afternoon while she and Anne are reading at the local park together. With a sigh, she rests her arm on the pages of the book she’s so engrossed in, the title of the pages labeled: “The Day Of Valentine And Its Historical Significance.”
Cultural history is one of Marcy’s many interests. She’d spend hours reading about the history of Halloween (one she could recite without hesitation if anyone asked), about the vastly religious and mostly materialistic value of Christmas, and, her personal green-fashioned favorite, St. Patrick’s Day.
However, unlike the many others who enjoy receiving gifts of roses and conversational candy hearts on February 14th, Marcy just doesn’t understand it.
Anne looks up from the magazine she’s got in her hands (that’s her definition of “reading”) and regards Marcy with curiosity. “‘Bout what, Marmar?”
“I just don’t get why Valentine’s Day is so important.” Marcy flicks the page of her book with her finger dumbfoundedly. “I know it’s kind of about getting candy, and cards, but.. what’s the point of it?”
Anne hesitates for a moment, considering the thought. “I think it’s about celebrating love,” she replies, setting down her magazine, “but I’ve never really thought about it before.”
A strong wind blows her magazine askew, and with a sigh she pins her magazine to the table with her arms to prevent it from flying away, all while the breeze blows her curls across her cheeks.
“Says here that it’s about celebrating and worshiping someone named ‘Valentine’,” Marcy reads from her book, skimming the text on the page with intrigue. “And a whole other buncha Roman stuff.”
“Oh, nice. Any mention of ‘celebrating love’ in there?” Anne asks, trying to blow her hair out of her face, with limited success. She gives up, shoveling her hand into her bookbag and digging out a scrunchie to stuff her curls in.
“Oh, um -- right here!” Marcy clears her throat, and starts reading from another section of the page she’s on. “”Valentine’s Day has historically been about celebrating the love all around you, whether it’s with family, friends, or even lovers. Traditionally, this has been done through methods of gift-giving, such as small trinkets, chocolates, and even roses.””
Anne peers at the page curiously, adjusting her ponytail and pulling her hands away from it. “So why doesn’t it mention anything about having to buy valentines for your fifth grade classmates?” She questions jokingly.
Marcy giggles a little. “I think this article only covers more historical aspects of celebrating Valentine’s Day, Anne.” She regards her friend warmly, her lips quirked upwards in a smile. “Valentines are symbols of love, and you give them to your friends and family to represent how much you appreciate them.”
Anne rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “I think having to buy cards with love messages on them kinda kills the point of the whole symbol thing, but ehh.”
Marcy laughs at that, and with a sigh, turns back to her book. “You know, Valentine’s Day is usually about celebrating romantic love,” she pauses for a second, before saying, “which is kind of why I don’t get it.”
Anne folds her arms and keeps her gaze on Marcy steady, staying silent but being very interested in what Marcy’s talking about.
“I mean, not everyone’s in love, like -- like that kind of love. And it’s hard to experience that kind of love, that’s plain science!” Marcy exclaims, closing her book. “Real love is different from just having just a crush. See, when you have a crush, your brain is experiencing a temporary norepinephrine high, which is different from growing an attachment to someone. No, that is a result of growing a strong sense of trust and care for them. But people always assume that they’re the same! Which is weird, if you ask me.”
Anne nods, not quite having taken in all that Marcy had just said. “You’re right. It is weird. Think about it, Marce. You don’t just fall in love with someone when you look at them. That stuff takes time.” She rolls up her magazine and shoves it in her bookbag, before standing up and slinging it over her back. “It takes knowing the person you’re in love with. And maybe buying some snacks for them.”
Marcy laughs, a glittering smile on her face. “You know what they say, the number one way to a person’s heart is through their stomach!” She exclaims, stuffing her textbooks in her bag as well.
“Well.. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a little hungry,” Anne supposes, a smile on her face. As if on cue, her stomach makes a loud rumbling noise.
“Looks like your tummy thinks that too.” Marcy gets up from the table and walks up to Anne, giving her a half-hearted grin. “Maybe we should pack up and go get something to eat.”
“You read my mind, dude!” Anne grabs Marcy’s arm and tugs her forward. “To the nearest hot dog truck!” She whoops, pulling her friend along with her.
Marcy’s face grows warm as she feels Anne’s hand wrap around her arm, but she doesn’t pull away from the touch. Anne’s hand slowly falls down her arm and grasps her hand, lacing their fingers together.
Marcy doesn’t understand it. But she lets it happen -- the rising pink on her cheeks, the sudden warmth in her chest, the unsteadiness in her legs as she runs alongside her friend, all of it.
******
A few months later, Marcy kind of gets it.
Amphibia is, to be short, a game changer. Marcy’s always been wary of walking headfirst into school lockers, or tripping on wet floors, or sometimes even missing her cue to catch the ball in gym class because she was so absorbed in her games.
Here, though, that’s just a part of her strategy as an artificer-rogue. Smacking into open lockers turned into walking into cavern walls etched with puzzles. Tripping on wet floors turned into a dynamic sweep and kick to the enemy’s lower quarters. Everything here suddenly made sense–somehow, this world was molded to fit her very perception of things.
And in Marcy’s wake of understanding Amphibian culture, she was better able to understand Valentine’s Day.
That’s not to say she doesn’t have a slightly skewed understanding of what it means.
All around her, she sees love, all sorts of it. Familial, like the brother-and-sister newts she saw parading around a fountain the other day. Platonic, like the two cheerful yet uninformed newts who sampled the local spicy cuisine, and ended up having to drench their faces in water just to cool the sensation.
And.. romantic, too. She’d see displays of affection on her walk across the streets of Newtopia. She usually made a conscious effort to scribble down the actions she’d see in her journal–gift giving, hugging, holding hands, kissing.
The thought of those actions made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not with anyone in particular, just the thought of them. They’re meant to show you care about someone. That you love someone.
Even something as simple as being by their side, just existing with them–that means so much.
Perhaps being on Amphibia has made Marcy not just understand Valentine’s Day -- but also love, as a whole.
Now, scribbled under the aforementioned aspects in her journal, a footnote reads, “Love is NOT just a chemical reaction–it’s an expression!”
Really, what a game changer.
******
“Hey, Anne, did you know there’s such a thing as Frog Valentine’s Day?”
Marcy curiously asks, fiddling with the charms on her satchel. She gazes at her friend with a big smile on her face, awaiting an answer. The two girls are walking through one of the many Newtopian markets, on a particularly chilly evening. Marcy noted this from watching Anne shiver multiple times.
“Uh.. no?” Anne supposes, grinning lightly. She rubs her shoulders and breathes out. “Sounds interesting, though. Tell me about it.”
Marcy gleefully claps her hands together. “Oh. My. Gosh, Anne. It’s so interesting! For starters, it’s obviously not called ‘Frog Valentine’s Day’. The formal name for it is ‘The Gift Of Love Day’. And not only that, but it has massive historical significance, dating allllll the way back to the days of early Amphibia!” She explains, making various gestures with her hands. “I’ve been studying it so much recently, along with, of course, other Amphibian holidays.”
“Really? That’s pretty interesting, Marce.” Anne tilts her head to the side, happily listening to her friend. “Does it also happen on February 14th? The Gifty Day Thingey, I mean.”
Marcy hums. “You know, I’m not sure. Some articles I’ve read told me that it actually tends to happen somewhere in mid to late autumn.” She puts her hand to her chin and taps it lightly with her thumb in a pondering fashion.
“Huh.. you know, maybe it could be today. It is pretty cold outside,” Anne says, rubbing her shoulders again. “Really cold.”
Marcy’s too busy reading through her journal to notice. The lanterns hung up across the market relieve her of the need to get a reading light, and she skims the page she wrote on The Gift Of Love Day with ease.
“November 13th,” Marcy finally says, after a minute or two of reading. “That’s when it happens.”
“Well.. I don’t see anything that would mean it’s happening.” Anne looks around. “No heart decorations or PDA at all.”
Marcy shrugs and looks down to the ground, slipping her journal back into her satchel. She watches the light of each lantern pass on the sidewalk, deep in thought.
“I mean, it’d be kinda funny if it was Froggy Valentine’s Day, because I don’t even have any gifts to give. Or any money to buy those gifts.” Anne slips her hands in her pockets and sighs. “Or any people to give them to.”
“Ya think?” Marcy asks absentmindedly, arms crossed. “C’mon, Anne. There’s gotta be someone out there who you care about. Or.. who cares about you.”
“I mean, yeah, sure,” Anne reasons, “there’s Sprig, but I wouldn’t even know what to get for him. There’s Polly, who doesn’t care about stuff like that. And there’s HP, who’s probably not interested in stuff like that at all.” She fiddles the corners of her skirt’s pockets with her thumbs. Marcy sees the nervousness on her face.
“And.. I think they know I care about them. I don’t even know how many times I was on the brink of death trying to help them. I risked my life for them, so many times.” Anne looks to Marcy with a soft smile on her lips. “So why should I spend money on buying stupid gifts for them if they already know how I feel?”
Marcy meets eyes with Anne, and gives her a fond glance. “You’re right, Anne. Truth is, The Gift Of Love Day isn’t just about giving gifts. It’s about showing and appreciating love. You give love to people in so many different ways, and it’s just–” Marcy exhales, dropping her hands to her sides, “-maybe that’s why I get it. There’s no big romantic thing to it. You just gotta show your love, and it could be any kind.”
Anne hums. “I kind of like it better than Valentine’s Day, then.” She rubs her shoulders again, letting out a puff of air. “What other ways do you think they celebrate love?”
Marcy looks at her shivering friend and smiles. “Well, sometimes they lend things to their friends and loved ones,” She unclips her furry cloak from her shoulders and slides it over Anne’s gently, before looking up to meet her eyes again, “‘specially in times of need.”
Anne simply grins back, tucking the cloak around her arms. “Are you sure about this? I mean, this is your cloak, Marcy.”
“Absolutely 100% sure!” Marcy giggles, patting her friend’s shoulders and turning to walk forward again.
Anne walks alongside her, not shivering as much anymore. “Alright.. what else ya got?”
“Hmmm…” Marcy wonders out loud, looking around the Newtopian market, until she spots a stand with flowers in all kinds of beautiful colors.
An idea sparks in her head. She doesn’t know why she feels like doing this, but all of a sudden, she runs over to the stand and drops a bag full of coins on the counter.
“Just one of those red ones, please!” Marcy says. “Keep the change.”
The newt manning the stand smiles and plucks a single red flower from one of the baskets above their head, and hands it to Marcy. She skips back to Anne with a big grin on her face.
Marcy waves the flower in the air. “Isn’t it pretty? It’s called a Camapora Amora, and -- y’know, they kind of represent love and stuff.” She finds her voice growing a little shy as she describes the flower. “I, uh-thought you might like it.”
“I–yeah, of course I do!” Anne says happily, and heat rises to Marcy’s cheeks. She sees Anne reach for the flower and clears her throat.
“Wait, before you do–” Marcy leans in and tucks the flower behind one of Anne’s ears gently. She backs up a bit and tries to pay no mind to how hot her face is. “I thought it might look nice on you.”
Anne’s hand rises up to feel the flower tucked behind her ear, and Marcy watches her face grow red. “Wow, um–thanks, Marmar.” She gives Marcy a fond look.
Marcy smiles back. Now Anne, adorned in her cape and that flower, is shining in the gentle light of the market–eyes gleaming gently, hair blowing in the crisp wind, hands tucked to her chest, looking happier than she’s ever been before.
There’s gotta be someone who cares about you, Anne. Marcy breathes out, feeling the drum of her heart in her chest.
I care about you, Anne.
“I should probably give this back to you, though,” Anne supposes, lifting the cape off of her shoulders and handing it to Marcy. “Gotta pay you back somehow, amirite?”
Marcy snaps out of her daze and gently pushes her cloak back to Anne. “You don’t have to pay me back. Also, I don’t want you to be cold.”
Marcy pulls her shaking hands back to her chest and studies her own motions with wonder.
Elevated heart rate. Hotness in the face. Commonly giving gifts of affection.
Marcy doesn’t get it. She shakes her shoulders and sighs, turning forward to walk again. Anne walks alongside her silently, cape resting on her shoulders.
Not a word is said between the two girls as they continue walking. By now, the sun has set far below the horizon, and the first peeks of stars are beginning to become visible as the two move away from the light of the market.
Marcy untucks her hands and lets them swing at her sides tiredly. She suppresses a yawn, blinking back bleariness in her eyelids.
“You look tired, Marmar.” Anne nudges Marcy’s shoulder, a kind smile on her face. “How long has it been since you last slept?”
“I don’t even know,” Marcy lets out a tiny laugh. “Maybe a day or two. I’ve been seriously studying the Newtopian plants recently, and uh..”
“You get absorbed in your studies and accidentally miss a whole night’s worth of sleep?” Anne raises an eyebrow.
“Yep,” Marcy finally yawns, raising her hands up in the air in a stretching motion. “If only I could have some magical potion that would restore my energy level right to 100.”
Anne chuckles a little at that remark. “Maybe one day, Marce. With how advanced things are here in Newtopia, I wouldn’t be surprised if you figured out how to make, I dunno, an invisibility potion.”
“Oh, that’s already been done. Not by me, though.” Marcy brings her arms back down and meets Anne’s gaze. “The chemical formula for turning bodies invisible was invented by the great alchemist Newton Newtly. I’ve been studying his notes recently, trying to figure out exactly how he did it.”
“Huh. How are you able to read his notes?” Anne asks.
“Oh, ever since he died, they’ve been released out into the public,” Marcy explains.
“How’d he die?”
“He turned himself invisible.”
Anne breathes a small laugh. “Isn’t it bad lab practice to use yourself as a test subject?”
“Yeah, well, it did get the job done for Newtly,” Marcy remarks, watching Anne’s expression flatten. “Wha–no, I’m not gonna do that! I swear!”
“Good, because if you do, I might just kill you myself.” Anne nudges her friend’s shoulder with her own and smiles.
“Okay, okay! I promise I won’t.” Marcy grins back at Anne, before reaching for one of Anne’s hands and intertwining their pinkies. “I pinky swear.”
“I’m gonna keep you to that,” Anne nods, before wrapping her hand completely around Marcy’s and sighing. “It’s the least I can do for you, anyway.”
Marcy looks Anne in the eyes for a moment before responding. “Thanks, Anne.” She lets their intertwined hands drift down to their sides.
They’ve stopped walking, and Marcy looks around at their surroundings–they’re at one of the city’s squares. But not just any square.
Marcy recognizes the shape of the fountain in front of her, eyes fixated on the crystal water lapping in it.
“Hey, I remember this fountain!” Anne’s face lights up. “This is the one where we almost fell into the water, right?”
“After promising to find Sasha?” Marcy asks, in a soft voice. “Yeah, I remember it too.”
Marcy lets go of Anne’s hand and slowly walks up to the fountain, before resting herself on the fountain’s edge and sighing.
Anne sits down next to her and regards her with a concerned expression. “Everything okay, Marcy?”
Marcy nods, the smile on her face reforming. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just..”
She takes a moment to form her words, watching the water next to her ripple gently.
She sighs. “Anne, have I ever told you how much I missed you?”
Anne’s eyebrows raise in a comical fashion, and she brings one of her hands to her chest. “Uh–I think. I mean -- I knew how much you missed me, ‘cause I really missed you. Y’know?”
“Yeah, but..” Marcy exhales. “Being without you - and Sasha - it made me feel alone. Super alone. I didn’t know how to deal with that at first.”
Anne listens intently, eyes fixed on Marcy.
“Sure, I landed in this studious and prosperous city, but I wasn’t with you guys. Being a Chief Ranger of the Newtopian Night Guard is kinda lonely when you don’t have your closest friends to brag about it to.” Marcy looks up to meet Anne’s eyes. “I know I kinda have this habit of being ‘in the zone’ and stuff - and maybe that makes me a little careless in some places, sure - but I really care about you, Anne. And - and I’ll do anything, anything, just to make up for what you’ve given me.”
Anne’s eyes widen, and her cheeks turn the color of roses. Marcy watches as she scrambles to form a response. “Marcy, I–I don’t even know what I’ve done for you. I mean, besides saving you from falling into trash cans all those times.” She looks down to one of Marcy’s hands, resting on the fountain. “What would I even give you?”
Anne reaches for one of Marcy’s hands and takes it in one of her own with a smile on her face.
Marcy wants to tell Anne the whole truth. Anne’s given her so much -- love, a place that feels like home, a blissful escape from life’s painful miseries. She’s tried so hard, for so long, to keep Anne by her side.
A crisp wind blows through again, blowing some of Anne’s curls into her face. The brunette struggles to tuck her hair out of the way.
Marcy giggles a little, watching Anne try to blow the hair from her face.
“You know, Anne..” Marcy supposes, with a sigh, “I think getting to stay by your side is the greatest gift you could’ve ever given me.” She gives Anne a fond glance, lips sealed in a smile.
“Oh, um–really?” Anne asks, once her curls are blown back in place. She meets Marcy’s eyes with surprise, not quite sure what to say.
“Anne,” Marcy lowers her voice to a soft whisper, “promise me I’m not gonna lose you again.”
Anne grins and her eyes close half-shut. “You won’t. I swear.” She rests her free hand in her lap.
Marcy breathes out in relief, before Anne says, “So did we like, give each other Gifts Of Love or something?”
This makes Marcy crack up with laughter.
“WAIT, ARE WE VALENTINES?!” Anne facepalms, her face painted red. “Oh my frog..”
“Only if you want us to be, Anne!” Marcy stops her giggling enough to give Anne a witty retort, which only makes the brunette’s face burn up worse.
“Why do you have to be so adorable when you laugh..” Anne mumbles, from behind her hands.
“Huh -- what?” Marcy perks up as soon as she hears that, and now she’s blushing red. “Did you just–”
“UH -- forget I said anything!” Anne clears her throat.
Marcy smirks. “Oh, I could’ve sworn you said something..”
“Nope. Nothing at all,” Anne refutes.
“Coooome onnn, Anna-Banana.” Marcy giggles. “Don’t leave me hanging!”
“I most certainly will, Marshmallow.” Anne smirks back, imitating Marcy’s use of her nickname.
Marcy rolls her eyes and lets out a breath. “Since when did you get so stubborn?”
“Since always, Marce,” Anne retorts.
A silence rests between them as they sit staring at each other. The calm water of the fountain laps behind them, and Marcy can hear various night bugs chirping.
Anne lets out a small yawn, and closes her eyes. “Dangit, Marcy, I think you’ve passed on your yawn to me.”
“Well, you know how yawns are, super contagious and all.” Marcy watches Anne stretch her arms high above her head, and smiles.
“I should probably get going now,” Anne says. She looks towards Marcy with concern. “Hey, promise me you’ll sleep too? The bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave too,” Marcy reassures her. She meets Anne’s eyes, kindness in her smile. “Goodnight, Anne. I.. love you.”
Anne beams back. “Night, Marmar. I love you, too.”
They stay like that for a moment, soft confessions laid out in the space between them. Marcy’s eyes feel tired, but neither she nor Anne get up. They just keep gazing at each other lovingly.
Suddenly, Anne leans in, eyes closed, and gently plants a kiss on Marcy’s cheek. It’s over as soon as it happened, and Anne pulls away, as flustered as can be.
“Okay, uhhhh–” Anne stands up and brushes off her skirt, before walking backwards away from the fountain. “Great time, Marcy, thanks for the walk, y’know, I’ll just be going now–” She awkwardly points and makes gestures with her hands before running off. “Bye!” She waves, darting off like her life depends on it.
Marcy sits at the fountain, dazed, not quite having processed what just happened between them. “Bye, Anne,” she waves, her voice hoarse and quiet.
As soon as the shock subsides though, her lovestruck panic sweeps in, and she lifts up a hand to where Anne had kissed her.
Displays of affection like this are common on Valentine’s–I mean, um–The Gift Of Uh,--
–Oh my FROG.
Marcy buries her face in her hands, cheeks burning red.
Against the crisp winds, her skin is burning hot. She can’t even think right now.
What’s the point of it, anyway? Why is she freaking out–nervous, flustered, so in love–over all of this?
She giggles a little, though. It makes her giddy as much as it drives her nuts. She’s in love. Now she’s experiencing that exact chemical reaction that makes her brain fuzzy, that makes her skin sweat, that makes her gleeful with laughter, all because her best friend kissed her.
But it’s not just a chemical–now she really, finally knows that. She takes her head out of her hands and grins to herself, face red and mind dizzy with love.
Marcy gets it now.