When the notebook containing their deepest, darkest secrets is stolen, two former best friends must unite, despite crushing on the same heart-stopping boy.
*****
Best friends, Al...
I cringe even as I write this, but I got my period today when I was in the car with my brothers. Worse, I was wearing a skirt. In my defense, it came early, so I wasn't expecting it. It bled through to the seat, and when my dad asked us about it, I blamed it on Hugo and a nosebleed. I'm horrible, I know, but I was just so embarrassed. He got grounded for a week and has to wash both cars by hand. He knows it was me, but he hasn't said a word. Best brother in the world. How did I get so lucky? -Georgie aka Alexx
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Alex's mom watched from the doorway as she panicked over her white high tops. Not that they were white anymore. She'd drawn and colored them in. Her dad called them psychedelic, which made Alex laugh. He'd never admit it, but she would bet a thousand bucks he'd been hippie back in the day likely with a soul patch to match.
"Will you be home for dinner?" her mom asked.
"I think so. The meeting should only last for an hour. Two tops." She rummaged through a pile of clothes, flinging shirts and jeans onto her bed.
Come on, come on.
"Text me if you stay out longer."
"I will, Mom."
A text pinged.
Alex reached for the nightstand but it was too far away, so she threw herself across the bed, disregarding the rumpled clothes on top, and grabbed her phone. She ignored the sound her mom made because yes, she already knew she was a mess thank you very much—no need to point it out. Again.
Georgie: Out front
"Georgie's here." Frustrated, she hung her head over the edge and met with a mouthful of bedskirt. Pushing it aside, she saw her sneakers sticking out from under the bed. She scrambled to put them on, then grabbed her jean jacket. It was always freezing inside Playhouse.
"Who's driving?" her mom asked, following her down the dingy hallway lined with family photos and into the living room.
"I'm assuming her dad. Sloane and Bri are with her."
"Here. For gas." Her mom handed her a ten-dollar bill.
An itchy feeling crawled down Alex's throat. "Mom, they don't—"
"I know, but they drive you all the time."
Her family only had one car—an old Ford that looked like it'd been through the battle of Gettysburg—but it got them from point A to point B so no complaints. On the weekdays, her mom drove it to her job at a construction company. She was the office manager. Her dad's nursing shifts were scattered so he'd take the bus most of the time except on weekends when he took the car, or her mom drove him.
She pocketed the money as her mom opened the front door. "Be safe and have fun," she said, kissing Alex on the cheek.
"I will," she yelled as she rushed down four flights of stairs because the elevator was broken. Management promised to fix it, but that was two months ago.
