Mya Newman never minded the routine or quiet that came with living in Honey Creek, Ohio. For her senior year, she craves something exciting to happen instead of it melting into a cookie cutter routine like the previous years.
When a new girl, Audrey Moore, moves to town, Mya finds herself caught in a triangle. She discovers hidden feelings for her best friend, Michael Graves, but he seems to have eyes for the new girl.
After Mya’s father becomes ill and eventually passes, she turns to her best friend, Michael. He never leaves her side, but she wonders if he’d rather be elsewhere. With fear of rejection and loss of friendship, Mya decides she can’t confess her recently discovered feelings.
When Michael and Mya share a dance at the Winter Formal, does she open her heart to him? Or does she shy away, forever longing to be the princess who finds her prince?
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Chapter One
“Okay. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A farmer and a pig….” “Stop,” I yelled without looking up. “I already told you that one?” “No, but any joke starting with a farmer and pig can’t be good.” I rolled over on the large towel we’d spread across the sand. It was the last day of summer vacation, and Michael and I agreed to spend the day together doing nothing but enjoying the sun. Living in Ohio, we weren’t sure how many more days we had left. Soon the leaves would fall showing off snow-covered cornfields. “Can you toss me a Dr. Pepper?” “Sure.” Without looking, I reached into the small red Igloo cooler we brought and produced a cold dripping can. I knew it was for him since I preferred bottled water to soda. Not Michael. The kid lived on caffeine and sugar. Which made the lack of fat on his body hard to explain. Not that I’d ever noticed. Michael Graves was my best friend. And nothing more. “So, you ready for tomorrow?” “Sure, I guess,” I answered. “How’s it any different than the last three years at Fayette County High? Really, we’ve known the same people and gone to school with them for the past twelve years. We all know who we’re gonna eat lunch with or who we’re gonna sit with at opening assembly. Boring.” I wasn’t a pessimist or a Debbie Downer, but Honey Creek needed some excitement and I didn’t think our senior year would prove to be any different unless something unusual happened. “Ok. So why don’t we spice it up a bit.” “Like what?” “Let’s start a nasty rumor or sit at a different table at lunch.” “Ooh, Michael, you’re so scandalous! Have I been rubbing off on you?”
“Hardly. I think the most daring thing you’ve ever done was streak across my yard when we were five because you’d heard wearing your bathing suit gave you tan lines. Even though you had no idea what tan lines were, I might add,” he said with a smirk. The afternoon sun danced across his blonde moppy hair, intensifying his golden highlights. He sat next to me in a short beach chair staring out at the water. Everyone we knew was out enjoying the last weekend of August. All of the rental cottages were empty from the few Honey Creek vacationers that came to visit the lake. It was a manmade watering hole, but that didn’t take away from the fun had there. Boats skidded across the water pulling skiers or tubers in their wake. The sand was dressed with towels and blankets full of half-clothed bodies soaking up the sun like Michael and me. “So word around town is there’s a new kid coming to school.” “Oh yeah, and where’d you hear that bit of news?” Gossip in a small town was like water. It was everywhere, and it seemed some of us needed it to survive. “My momma. And she heard it at her Bible reading from Mrs. Creamer who said her husband sold a lot of furniture to some new people. And, they had it delivered to that empty house on Old School.” “Well, if your momma said so, it must be true.” Mrs. Graves was a farmer’s wife. As a farmer’s wife, she had duties to uphold to her home and community. Michael explained to me his mother’s routine when I made the mistake of asking. Once her chores were done for the day, she’d stop by the post office and look for any new wanted posters. In our small town, criminal listings were non-existent. Next, she’d arrive at church in time for coffee with Reverend Fallon and the other woman in her Bible reading group. With her fill of the holy word and not so holy words, she’d stop by The White Cottage Restaurant to grab her husband some lunch and catch up on any new talk of the town. While waiting for her brown bag, words and theories flew around the restaurant until a consensus was met. When she’d finally make it home with Mr. Grave’s cold lunch, she’d jump on the phone and discuss with the other woman in town what she’d seen and heard at White Cottage. From there they’d make their own conclusions. “Did she say whether it was a girl or boy?” “A girl. Why, you worried?” “Worried? No. Should I be?” “No, you’re okay, but what if she’s really hot and every guy wants to date her and no one
