DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Rise of the Guardians or any of the characters associated with it. I do own my own original characters, though.
A/N: This is my first fanfiction and I hope you like it.

Chapter 1: A Broken Heart…?

Snow. A voice. A face. That is all I remember from that day. I don't know who he was; all I know is that he saved my life. That was when I was ten; I'm seventeen now, and I haven't stopped believing that he exists, despite what everyone has told me. I don't know his name, but I do know one thing: I will find him.

"Hey, V! Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!" Kristi sings in my ear.

"Come back from La-La Land, Val!" Ian whispers next to me.

Stupid best friends. Currently, I am sitting in my senior mythology and folklore class with Kristi and Ian, my two best friends, my only friends really. We started school two months ago on August 13th, and we've barely done anything in this class. The teacher, Mr. Grayson, somehow magically falls asleep the moment he sits down in his chair, no matter how loud the other students are. I mean, I hate having to be at school almost as much as the next person, but I do occasionally like to learn something.

Ian helps me up from my desk, where I had been daydreaming, and Kristi, Ian, and I leave the classroom, heading for our lockers and then to the parking lot. "So who wants to help me with my homework?" Kristi asks, using her green puppy-dog eyes.

"I can't." I shake my head. "I have, er, prior commitments."

Ian facepalms. "You mean your 'blog'?" He airquotes.

"Nooo." I sigh. "My aunt and uncle from Florida are coming up for the weekend, before it gets too cold and starts snowing because my aunt has metal rods in her back and legs, and-"

"Alright!" Ian cuts me off and turns to Kristi "I'll help you," he sighs. "Come on, Kristina." He drags her off down the sidewalk to where her house is. I head in the opposite direction, adjusting my backpack straps on my shoulders.

My friends and I live in the small town of Burgess, Pennsylvania. Not much to the town, but it has awesome ice-skating and sledding in the winter. I kick the pile of leaves that is next to the sidewalk, making them fly in the air. Fall and winter are my favorite times of the year; I love the cold for some reason. I smile to myself as I stop on the porch to be greeted by my cat twining himself between my legs. I scratch his head. "Hey Snow," I murmur. "Who's my good boy?"

Snow meows in response and saunters through the front door that just opened, right when my uncle sweeps me up into a big hug. "There's my little Valentina!"

I laugh. "Hey Uncle Rick. I'm glad you could make it so soon. How's Aunt Agnes?"

"As charming as ever. Naw, she says there's a chill in the air and that it'll snow early this year. So as much as she wants to stay, we're going to have to leave tomorrow afternoon."

I frown. "What about our plans?"

"We'll have to do them some other time, Val. But, you know what?" He nudges my arm. "I got you something that you've been begging for forever."

I gasp. "You don't mean…!"

"Yep." Uncle Rick grins. "The new ice skates and snow board you've been wanting. They're in your room on your bed. "

"No way!" I hug him. "I love you. You're the best!"

"Yep, and don't you forget it!" He ruffles my blonde hair before stopping and looking at my highlights. He raises his eyebrow. "Your mother let you get blue and pink highlights?"

I shrug. "It was for my birthday."

"How time flies. How old are you now? Like 300?"

I poke him. "I'm seventeen, thanks for remembering."

"Val? Is that you?" Mom yells.

"No. It's the boogeyman. Of course it's me! I was talking with Uncle Rick," I yell back.

"Well come inside and help with dinner!"

"Okay!" I sigh as Uncle Rick and I enter the house, but before I close the door, I feel chills run up my spine. When I look outside, there's nothing there except a few orange leaves blowing in the wind.

I slip my jacket off and pick up Snow, walking into the kitchen where Uncle Rick, Aunt Agnes, and my mom are sitting at the island. I stand next to Uncle Rick, leaning against the island and listening to my aunt complain to my mom about her age, bones, hair, back, pain, the economy, etc., etc., etc. Uncle Rick just drinks his beer and ignores her.

Uncle Rick downs the rest of his beer before heading to the living room to watch television. I put down Snow and wash my hands, getting the loose, white hairs off of them. I open the refrigerator, pulling out a whole bunch of different fresh vegetables and putting them on the counter so I can make stir-fry. Just as I am about to start the preparation of the vegetables, Uncle Rick calls me into the living room.

"Val, have a look at this."

I set down the knife I'm using and hurry to see what he wanted to show me. On TV, the news is showing a devastating car crash. Below the video footage is a live real of a news anchor who is speaking.

"A Burgess High School teacher, Mr. Larry M. Grayson was killed in a fatal collision with a semi-truck when the driver supposedly lost control and overturned the semi onto Mr. Grayson's car, claiming his life. No one knows why the truck-driver lost control, but from eye-witness reports, it is believed that the driver was intoxicated. However, the driver is still missing. If you know anything or have any additional information, please call your local authorities."

I plop down on the couch, my hands shaking. I mean, yeah, I barely knew the teacher, but the fact that he was my teacher and he's dead still shocks me. Something wet lands on my hands: tears. I wipe them away as I run upstairs to my room and turn on my computer, about to video-chat Ian and Kristi. First, though, I check my blog, deciding to write a memoir for Mr. Grayson.

Starting a new file, I begin typing.

Today is Friday, October 13th, 2021. This day, the world has witnessed the loss of an extraordinary man: Mr. Larry M. Grayson. Not well known, Mr. Grayson was the teacher of my senior class's Mythology and Folklore class at Burgess High School. Though we students at Burgess High School may have had Mr. Grayson for a teacher, we never had the time to really appreciate him as a person. He deserves to be respected and loved and cherished just as much as everyone else on this planet deserves to be. So take a moment to cherish your loved ones and send a prayer to Mr. Grayson's family as they mourn the loss of their beloved family member, a man with a beautiful soul who has dedicated over 40 years of teaching to Burgess High School.

May your love never die.

Love Always, Cupid XOXO

Posting it, I scan through the messages from my followers. They're mainly personal question about love problems. Each Sunday I do a live webcast where I answer about five to ten of the questions, anonymously. Other people, who don't mind their screen names being revealed, post directly on the page. I mark the seven questions that I decide to answer on Sunday, and I'm about to logoff when one of the posts catches my eye.

It reads:

Dear Cupid,

I know that this may seem silly to say, but you are a true inspiration, and I really admire you. I think you're funny, smart, caring, beautiful. But what I really want to say is that the Halloween dance is coming up soon, and if you don't already have a date for the dance, I would be honored to accompany you. I hope that you will consider my offer.

J. P. Matthews

I stare at the screen without blinking for several minutes, trying to comprehend what happened. This is the first time that any of my followers have ever asked me out.

I begin typing a response.

Dear J. P. Matthews,

As flattering as it is that you would ask me to the dance, I'm afraid that I cannot accept your offer. I have the policy of never becoming emotionally or personally invested with anybody because I love everybody, and I wouldn't want anybody to be hurt. Plus, I don't even know you on a personal level. I'm sorry… :(

Never stop believing in love.

Love Always, Cupid XOXO

Almost immediately, I receive a response from him.

Dear Cupid,

I understand your policy, but you have also stated that you have a policy of helping and doing whatever you can for people who are having problems with love. I still hope that you will consider my offer and allow for you to get to know me. Please inform me of your decision on Monday in our Mythology and Folklore class.

See you Monday.

J. P. Matthews

My mouth drops, and I stand up. This is freaky. I really need to talk to Kristi and Ian about this, in person. I lock my computer and open the door to my balcony after writing a note and leaving it on my desk. I grab my skateboard and jump over the balcony, landing on the ledge above the garage and dropping down to the ground. I take off down the street to Kristi's house, easily dodging any bicyclists or people walking.

One of the reasons why I'm so indecisive about accepting J. P. Matthews's invitation to the dance is that I was planning on asking Ian to the dance. Yeah. I have a major crush on my best friend. It sucks, since he's the person I've been closest to since I moved to Burgess when I was eleven, and I'm scared that he only sees me like I'm his little sister since that's how he treats me.

I stop at Kristi's front porch, leaning my skateboard against the wall. I knock on the door which Kristi's mom answers. "Hey, Val. Kristi and Ian are in her room, studying," she says.

"Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Newman." She smiles at me.

I enter the house, running up the stairs. I start talking as I open the door. "Hey, guys. I have something really import-" I stop at the sight that I see on Kristi's bed. She's on top of Ian on the bed, kissing him nonstop while his hands are on either side of her head. Pain spreads through my chest; Kristi knows how I feel about Ian. Both of them stop and look at me.

I start backing up as Kristi gets off the bed. I run down the stairs, hearing Ian yelling at me to stop. For the first time since I've known Ian, I don't listen to him.

I sprint out the door, grabbing my skateboard and running towards the forest behind my house. A couple of years ago, when I was thirteen, I found a pond hidden within the forest there. I've never told anybody about it; I don't know why. The pond has been my secret solace for years whenever I've been upset or needed to be alone: I'd go swimming in the summer and ice-skating in the winter; I've sat under the trees for hours, just drawing, reading books, or listening to music. It feels like the pond is my personal hideaway.

I crash through the undergrowth until I reach the pond, throwing my skateboard to the side. I curl up under one of the trees that I always sit under, and I cry. The last time that I cried here was when my dad was murdered when I was fourteen.

After crying my heart out for hours, I must have passed out because the full moon is shining high in the sky when I wake up. A pleasantly cool breeze blows past, ruffling my hair as a single snowflake falls on my nose. I smile up at the moon, thinking that Jack Frost must be watching over me, just like I feel he does whenever I come to this pond. Sighing, I walk to the edge of the pond, looking at my reflection and picking stray leaves out of my hair. The necklace I'm wearing, a pink and silver heart that Ian gave me for my fifteenth birthday, falls off; the chain and the heart are both broken in half. Tears prick at my eyes as I pick up the necklace and throw it into the center of the pond, where the moon is reflected.

I sit down with my back against a boulder and stare at the pond, my eyes half-closed. Red and gold leaves ride on the breeze and land in the water, making ripples. I glance at the sky as several thin clouds pass over the moon, and snow begins to fall.

Sighing, I smile slightly and whisper, "Alright, Jack Frost, I'll go inside now. Thank you for letting me come here and making me feel better, by the way." I think I hear a chuckle behind me and words that sound like "You're welcome," but I just ignore it and pick up my skateboard, heading to my house. Before pushing through the bushes, I glance back, thinking I see someone vanishing in the corner of my vision. When I look at the spot, though, no one is there.

Needless to say, when I get home, my mom is not a happy person, but one look at my face keeps her from asking any questions. She just hugs me and gets me a cup of hot chocolate before giving me a kiss and telling me to go to bed.

I gladly take the cup and head to my room. Before going to bed, I decide to respond to J. P. Matthews on my blog.

Dear J. P. Matthews,

With regards to your previous offer, I have decided that if you can convince me on why I should go to the dance with you by the day before the dance (October 27th), then I will go with you to the dance. Something that happened tonight made me remember why I started my blog and the vow I made to keep other people from experiencing the pain of a broken heart. If you still wish, I will be waiting in front of the school by the flagpole before school starts on Monday.

May your love always strike true.

Love Always, Cupid XOXO

I wait for his response, and a few minutes later, the message pops up.

Dear Cupid,

It is still my wish to be with you. But there is one bit of advice that I would like to give to you: Don't spend too much time trying to fix other people's broken hearts. You have to think of your own as well. Because what would happen when you, Cupid, get a broken heart?

J. P. Matthews

I stare at the computer screen, unable to answer. What happens when "Cupid" gets a broken heart?

Well not too bad for a start. :) Please read and review. I'm always open to constructive criticism.

And yes, Jack Frost will actually come in very soon, so don't worry. ;)