Anvaila Emerson, a vibrant party lover, juggles her crush on Kevin Diaz, the basketball team captain, and the return of mysterious Austin Smith to senior year. Caught in a high school drama, Anvaila faces the complexities of emotions, friendships, a...
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It's a state of mind where a constant stream of thoughts flows in the back of your brain, and you entertain various assumptions and what-ifs.
Those what-ifs could be as trivial as wondering, "What if I had eaten chocolate ice cream instead of plain vanilla?" or more significant scenarios like, "What if I had chosen a different path to walk to school and ended up colliding with a car, meeting my untimely demise?"
This is what I'm best at-overthinking-which is exactly what I'm doing now, sitting on the bleachers during my free period. It's a Tuesday, and with nothing better to do before lunch, my brain's decided to fill the void with a mental hurricane of random thoughts. I'm pondering my chances with Kevin (sad sigh), contemplating what food I should devour next, and thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't been grounded last weekend as punishment for soaking Jade's new white gown with red wine at our parents' anniversary party two weeks ago.
Now, before you start sympathizing with her, just know: Jade deserved it. She snatched my cheese pizza-my precious, glorious cheese pizza-that was about to make its way into my mouth, and she fed it to Jarrett, our seven-year-old cousin. And let's not forget how she poured orange juice on my favorite One Direction hoodie. It was my prized possession! Do you know how long I waited for that thing? Three freaking months, people! Three months, only for her to destroy it in a matter of seconds. So, you tell me, who's the real victim here?
Gosh. I'm still internally crying over that hoodie.
Anyway, what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, food. Always food. I can practically feel my stomach rumbling in anticipation of lunch. But then, of course, my mind wanders back to Kevin. Why do I do this to myself? He's probably not even thinking about me, but here I am, obsessing over what-ifs. What if I hadn't been so awkward around him last week in chemistry? What if, instead of spilling my drink like a klutz, I actually said something clever? What if-gasp-he noticed me as more than just "Vinny, the girl who can't keep it together"?
