Prologue.

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June 10th, 1978.

...

Dear diary, I start my new counselor gig in a few weeks which means I'll have to deal with Sunnyvaler bullshit and the smell of expensive perfume and hairspray for a good month. Gross.

It's fine though, I can tolerate that, but what I can't tolerate is the Goode's. Who could? They are these rich pretentious assholes who seem to think the world revolves around them and only them. I refuse to be put into that little box of theirs especially now.

So watch out Goode's, Maxine isn't going to be walked over.

- yours truly, Maxine.

"Max!" The brunette had just closed her book and turned to the sound of her mother's voice.

"Yeah?" She got out of her chair and pushed it in.

"Are we going to that bakery or no? I've only got an hour to spare." She could hear the jingling from her mothers cheap jewelry from her bedroom.

"Yeah! Let- let me put my shoes on."

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