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February 14th, also known as Valentine’s Day, in Brisbane was that kind of day where stores filled up, restaurants overflowed, and couples strolled around together. Nothing unusual—after all, this happens everywhere in the world, or at least in most places. But of course, on that day, single people wouldn’t even have a shred of peace in their field of vision. However, what if… the tables turned?
Bluey was sitting in her chair, elbows propped on the desk, cheeks resting against her fists, staring out the window—mainly at the schoolyard. Now in high school, Glasshouse Brisbane High was much bigger than her old school, but that wasn’t what mattered. Every sixteen-year-old teenager like the blue-furred girl had dreamed about living a romance… but not her. She neither wanted it nor cared about it. She wasn’t the type of girl who went crazy over boys and gossip like Judo, Indy, and Coco, nor was she as detached from romance as Honey and Winnie, who focused more on sports than anything else. But Bluey could notice couples around her—or at least the feelings, looks, and sighs that nobody else seemed to pay attention to. Or maybe it was all in her head.
Last week she swore that one of the Terriers—the triplets—Harry, the lightest-furred of the gray trio, had been looking at Snickers much longer than normal, and that Snickers seemed nervous and embarrassed to return the eye contact. To that blue Heeler, that meant something. And that’s when she got an idea—one that was bound to go horribly wrong. She didn’t care if it worked; chaos was more interesting than the actual plan.
— Oh, you devil! —she whispered toward the chair in front of her, where her best friend Chloe, a Dalmatian, was slouched lazily. — Damn, you’re not even good for studying! Wake up! —She tossed a paper ball at her.
— I’m gonna strangle you… —Chloe slowly lifted her head, turning toward the blue dog. — Bark, bitch!
— Love you too, babe. —Bluey teased, making Chloe’s scowl melt into a nervous smile.
— What’s this, my darling? —Chloe played along. — We’re in this together! —She turned around discreetly and flashed a “Hang n’ Loose” hand sign at her. — So? Spill it!
— What if… —Bluey tried to create suspense, but Chloe cut her off right away.
— Is this one of those plans that’s going to get us suspended or written up? —she asked bluntly. — Because if it is… remember the last one that blew up in our faces?
— I know… Maybe pouring powdered juice into the water fountain wasn’t the best idea! —Bluey could feel the Dalmatian’s glare stabbing her. That expression of someone who had already put up with way too much from her Heeler friend. — But hey! Not everyone likes strawberry juice, right?
— What’s your idea? Out with it.
— What if we… did that letter thing? —Bluey suggested, doodling in her notebook to illustrate her plan. — Like, people write, confess to someone, and instead of them saying it themselves, we read it for them! We help people out and get some entertainment too—plus anonymous exposés!
— Fuck yes! —Chloe smirked. — Let’s do it!
The following events were nothing less than the prelude to the apocalypse for any of those teenagers. Of course, when people saw a “confess here” sign and a mailbox in the middle of the hallway, many would ignore it, right? Wrong. It worked. It worked too well, on levels neither of them had anticipated. There wasn’t any persuasion, promotion, or blackmail—they just put the box there and left it. They’d read the letters at the end of the day.
When they went to pick up the box, stuffed with letters, Bluey was startled by its weight.
— Holy crap! —she said, lifting the box, covered in pink pen doodles and red hearts on every side. — Guess someone’s in love at this school, huh?
— Man! —Chloe watched the blue dog struggle with the weight. — I wanna know who’s gonna get the most mentions!
— Mackenzie for sure! —Bluey said as they spotted a group of students gathered in the courtyard, unusually well-behaved, clearly waiting for the event. Definitely a bad sign. — He’s handsome and has that whole “I don’t care about anyone” vibe that girls drool over!
— Oh, what shitty taste! —the Dalmatian complained, heading toward a free table in the center of the eager crowd of dogs. — Alright you gossip-mongers, we brought the letters! Valentine’s Day! If you’re gonna scream, keep it down! —Chloe signaled with a finger to her lips. — Shall we start?
— Just to remind you all! —Bluey lightly tapped Chloe’s hand, making her yelp louder than necessary—probably for dramatic effect. — It’s anonymous! We don’t know who wrote it, but we’ll say who it’s for! Okay! Chloe, read the first one!
And chaos unfolded, Chloe picked up the first letter, covered in sheep and star stickers. She instantly had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, while Bluey shot her a deadly glare to keep her in check.
— “For Mackenzie.” —Chloe read aloud. — What awful taste! Who’s the troll that wrote this?
— What happened to “we won’t judge,” huh, Chloe? —Mackenzie himself, the Border Collie in a plaid shirt over a black tee and baggy pants, called her out.
— That rule doesn’t count when it’s about you, cousin! —Chloe went back to the letter, biting her lip to stop a grin, but her lips still trembled. — “You’re so cute, wanna hook up?” —She burst out. — Lame, tacky, horrible! Couldn’t even write something real? Who wrote this trash?
— We’re not judging, remember… —Bluey muttered as the little crowd of wagging tails booed Chloe—not because they disagreed, but because the letter itself was such a letdown. — We’ll just ignore ones like that!
She grabbed the next envelope, decorated with pink wavy lines in marker and glitter. On the back it simply said “For Jack” in sloppy handwriting, unadorned. Bluey stared at it for a few seconds, recognizing Indy’s messy script, but decided to let it go.
— For Jack… —she read. — “I’ve lost count of how many times I catch myself catching you in the act of looking at… someone else, instead of what you should. This isn’t a love note…” —Bluey widened her eyes. — “Nor a confession, it’s a warning. I know who you watch, who you sigh for. Every breath you’ve ever let out will never be forgotten. But you’ll never see the truth right in front of you.”
— Gossip! If someone wrote that to me, I’d cry in the shower! —Chloe commented, rereading the note. — Sad stuff!
— Was that flirting or a threat? —Jack, the Jack Russell Terrier leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor, raised his voice. But no one could answer, since they were all wondering the same thing.
— Yes! —both Bluey and Chloe answered in unison.
Chloe grabbed another letter, this one with a faint smell of coffee—either scented pens or spilled while writing.
— For… Winnie?! —Chloe spread her arms, strutting around like an overexcited baboon, deepening her voice. — Who’s sending things to my girl? I’ll hunt you down, bastard!
— That’s right, babe! Wreck ‘em! —Winnie cheered with a grin. Funny thing was, they weren’t even dating, but they played around like that all the time.
— Chloe… —Bluey snatched the letter. — This is your handwriting.
— Oh crap, it is! —Chloe dashed back, folded the letter and stuffed it into her pocket. — Nope, not reading this one!
— I caught a line! —Bluey teased with a smug grin. — Something about “coffee” and “Chappell Roan”? Girl… what a sad lesbian move!
— Bitch! —Chloe shot back, grabbing another letter and tossing it at Bluey. — Your turn!
— Fine! —Bluey unfolded the next one, eyes widening at the front. — For Lucky… “I hate the fact that I always swallow my own words. I hate the fact that you’re the only one who made me lower my pride just to look you in the eye—your green eyes like emeralds, your golden fur like a spring sunrise. But what I hate most about you is that your smile is the best part of my day, even if I only see it for seconds. I wish I could say what I feel face to face, but I know it’d be hard for me and for you. I wish I could hold your hand, walk out of that locker room with you in my arms, sink my canines into your neck, taste your lips and—” —Bluey snapped the paper shut. — Whoa, dude!?
— What? —Chloe snatched it, scanning the lines, her eyes darting faster and faster until she covered her mouth. Her face turned visibly pink. — Well damn, people are getting bold! What filth!
— What? —Lucky, the Labrador in his team jacket with a cricket bat leaning against his legs, crossed his arms and looked at the two of them. His eyes were shining, a rebellious smile tugging at his lips no matter how hard he tried to hide it—growing with every word he’d just heard. — It can’t be that bad, right?
— It’s not bad, it’s just gay! —Chloe shot back, still leaving him (and everyone else) in suspense.
— It’s just really filthy! —Bluey cut in. — Anyway! Next one, you can read this yourself later.
— This one’s for Pretzel. —The crowd let out a collective “oooh.” Pretzel was the quiet one in class, so having someone admire him secretly was a surprise. — “The way your tongue twists when you insult me, the way you fill your mouth calling me a bastard, the way your ears turn red when you’re mad, and the way you slip into Spanish when you’re stressed—I fall harder every time. Damn, shorty, you could call me hijo de puta at the altar and I’d still say yes!”
Chloe barely managed to finish without bursting out laughing.
— Holy shit… —the Chihuahua’s jaw dropped when they finished. — I already know who wrote that. Pathetic.
Pretzel turned and crossed his arms, glaring at one of the Terrier triplets beside him—the one with neutral gray fur, neither light nor dark. Harvey gave him a sheepish smile.
— You’re an idiot. You piss me off all the time. —Pretzel muttered. — But I do like your stupidity.
— That’s my boy! —Harvey leaned in to close the gap, but Pretzel shoved a hand against his cheek. — Not in public.
— Well, would you look at that? Your crazy idea’s actually working. —Chloe whispered to Bluey.
— And here I just wanted to laugh at people’s dumb confessions. —Bluey whispered back. — Next one’s… for Cacao? “Girl, stop embarrassing yourself, keep that mouth away from mine!” —She read and reread those two lines, baffled. — Huh.
— I love it! —the pink Poodle burst out laughing. — Whoever wrote that, DM me later! I liked it!
Bluey rolled her eyes and shuffled the pile as Chloe grabbed the next.
— Oh, this one’s juicy. For Gruber! —Chloe gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. — Is it gay? Maybe… —She kept reading. — “I don’t know if I should feel this way about another boy… But you made me question things. And honestly, I wanted to act on it. Maybe take the courage to say it out loud. Every time we’re alone in the locker room, your smug grin, your cocky attitude—I like seeing that. But I like even more when you’re vulnerable, when you let your guard down around me. It’s hard for both of us, and deep down we know where this is heading. You’ll want to go the hard way, and I’ll take the easy way. And that’s fine. I understand you better than I understand myself.” —She lowered the letter, grinning slyly, scanning the crowd to catch the culprit.
As had been decided earlier, short flirty notes like the first one or the one for Cacao weren’t worth reading, and most of them were like that. The girls skipped many, only picking out the juiciest or most dramatic ones. Until they finally reached the last three.
— You wanna read this one, Chloe? —Bluey handed her a red-painted envelope addressed to Rusty. — Looks promising!
— Alright, let’s go. —Chloe tore it open slowly, eyes widening at certain passages even before she read aloud. — Whoa. “You know how hard this is, right? And I don’t mean petty things like this being about two boys, or us being different. No. It went way deeper than that. Over time, it started to drive us apart. I hate you for that—because you let it. You let it push us away, even knowing how I feel, even knowing you feel the same. The first chance you had to leave me alone, you took it. You knew it would crush me, and you still watched from afar as I fell. That hurt me, and I hope it hurt you back. I should hate you, but I can’t. Even though I should. Rusty… you knew it was mutual. So why did you abandon me?”
The air shifted instantly. No more laughs, no more cheers. Just silence—uncomfortable and heavy. Everyone exchanged glances, shifting uneasily. Bluey quickly grabbed the next letter, praying for something funny, cheesy, or romantic in a silly way. Something to lift the mood. But luck wasn’t on her side.
— “I’ll tell everyone I hate you. But only you know that’s a lie. For the world, I hate you. For me, I can’t explain the warmth you bring to my heart. But I know it’ll be hard for you to accept it. No matter how much I push you away, you always come back. And at some point, I’ll have to push back harder. I’ll hurt you. I’ll make you cry. And it’ll hurt me even more, knowing how much pain I caused you. I’m sorry, Jack. But you know we can’t be together. I can’t say it, but you already know.”
And just like that, the atmosphere collapsed entirely. One by one, the students began leaving—some satisfied, some quiet and unsettled. The courtyard that had been buzzing with whispers, laughter, and wagging tails was now eerily quiet. Only Bluey and Chloe remained at the table, a single envelope left.
Before either of them could move, Mackenzie walked up.
— So? Can I see it? —He pointed at the last letter in Chloe’s hand. — Since it’s for me.
— Oh, this one? Think you’ll even understand it? —Chloe opened it, revealing the entire note written in French. — Some idiot must’ve used Google Translate and thought they were the Dracula of romance.
— Yeah. Someone thought it’d be hilarious to write it in another language. Couldn’t even recognize the handwriting. —Bluey and Chloe shrugged, handing it to him as they got up, already complaining about something else.
Mackenzie carefully unfolded the letter. He read it longer than necessary, taking in every detail, pausing after the last line. A small smile spread across his face.
— “You left today…” —he murmured, the smile tinged with sadness rather than joy. — “I’m gonna miss you too, Luc.”