Do you have Mrs. Piccola for history? If you do, change ASAP. She's ancient and sounds like she ate a bucket of gravel. She's constantly coughing and hacking up phlegm. BIG mistake sitting in the front row. One plus is she's blind as that old tabby who roams outside your apartment begging for food so she can't see I'm writing to you. -Georgie aka Alexx

PS. Guard this notebook with your life. Seth snuck into my room the other day and tried to steal it. I saw Arlo eyeing it too. Bet you a hundred pounds of cheese he wants to take it and post it everywhere to embarrass me. I don't know how Hugo stands him.

The first week of school was a pageant show—students parading up and down the halls with their summer tans and freshly cut hair. Even the kids who insisted they didn't give a crap showed up in slouchy shirts and worn-in jeans that gave off "whatever" vibes.

There were also the breakout stars. The ones who blossomed over the summer, gaining muscles or boobs that had everyone drooling in envy. Sadly, that list didn't include Alex. The biggest curve she gained was a callus on her middle finger from her summer job—writing Mr. Travers' memoir.

At eighty-four, his arthritis was so severe he couldn't hold a pen, so while he talked, she recorded. It would have been easier to type, but he didn't "trust" technology and insisted everything be handwritten. It was tedious as hell, but the money was well worth the hand cramps.

It's how she was able to afford her new sewing machine. Okay well, new-ish sewing machine. She'd bought it off of an elderly lady at an estate sale. It was still in good condition, and hey, at least it worked, unlike her last one, who died while trying to lengthen the hem of Alexx's lace skirt, the one she was wearing today.

Alexx strolled towards her, the white maxi skirt swaying with every step. "Here you go," she said, handing over the lime green notebook. "We're gonna have to get another one."

"Already?" There were at least three hundred pages. She flipped and found the last entry, which was five pages long, front and back. Only a couple of empty pages after it. "I'll buy one this weekend."

"What are you buying?" Sloane asked, stopping next to them with Brianne in tow.

A chord of tension rumbled through the early morning air. Alex could feel it pressing in on her, making it hard to breathe. It'd been getting heavier and heavier ever since the Lorde's barbecue. It would have been bearable if they weren't stuck in a car every day. At first, Alex made an effort, but when Sloane and Bri only wanted to talk about going to the lake or hiking, she stopped.

So now, after they were dropped off, they parted ways. Alex went to the cafeteria to buy an egg bagel with extra cream cheese—her favorite—and the girls went to Brianne's locker and then to Sloane's, which was conveniently above Alex's. Fate was a cruel, cruel mistress.

"Uh, a new book." Alex swiftly stuffed it in her bag and shut her locker.

Sloane's jaw worked as an awkward pause descended over the group that had Alex itching to bolt. It was the same awkward pause they shared in the car yesterday morning when Bri's mom had seen Alex reading an entry and had asked what it was. Life, it seemed, wanted her in a series of awkward moments.

Alexx nudged her, giving her wide eyes. Say something, she mouthed.

Why was it up to her? But fine. She'd break the silence. "Who else is happy that it's Friday? We survived our first week of sophomore year."

Sloane gave her a tight smile. "Yeah. Speaking of weekends..." She turned to Alexx, her ruby hair pulled back into an intricate braid. "What are you doing tomorrow? Bri and I are planning on hiking up to Skyline Point."

Alexx hopped on the balls of her feet, bouncing up and down. "I love Skyline! What time? Because I have a Playhouse meeting at three."

"That's the general info meeting, right?" She motioned to Bri and herself. "We're planning on going to that too."

"You guys are joining?" Alexx's face lit up as Sloane nodded.

An unpleasant taste slid down Alex's throat. The Playhouse was their thing and their thing alone.

"We wanted to do more stuff together," Brianne added. Her soft voice barely carrying over Alexx's squeal of excitement.

"I can't wait," Alexx exclaimed. The delicate ruffles on her top fluttered like butterfly wing as she performed a celebratory dance. "I've been trying to get you to come since forever ago."

Alex blocked them out when they started discussing logistics. She didn't need to hear the details. And she definitely didn't need to listen to Alexx's happiness at having them join Playhouse.

Instead, she focused on the ginormous Hawaiian shirt lying on her bed and how she was going to transform it. Her mom said the bright pink and green palm leaves were gaudy as hell, but Alex liked it. She planned on converting it into a tank top or maybe a button-down shirt with an oversized collar.

"Alex."

Oh, oh! White piping around the edges. Yes. That would look amazing—clean lines with a retro vibe.

"Freddy!"

She looked up to find Alexx staring at her expectedly. "Yeah?"

"I asked if you wanted me to pick you up tomorrow before Playhouse?"

"Oh, well..." Now that she knew the rest of the girls were coming she had to rethink her answer.

Alexx stuck out her bottom lip and brought her hands to her chest like she was praying. "Don't tell me you're bailing. You know I rely on you to look my best."

"You have Wendy, you know, the actual costume designer."

"But she's in charge of everyone. She's too busy to make it perfect. Not like you."

Well, of course not. Alex added in details like making sure the headband matched her shoes or adding extra sparkle to a dress. Plus, she was always taking in the waist or dropping the hem to make it fit like a glove, which wasn't easy. Alexx was tall and lithe like Hugo. Anything small enough was too short, and anything short enough was too big. It was a headache, but she wanted Alexx to look her best.

"Freddy..."

She felt herself caving as Alexx's blue eyes turned pleading. "Fine. I'll go, but if Wendy makes a big fuss again and talks to the director, I'm out of there." The last time, Alex had been reprimanded for changing the buttons on Wendy's design. Alex's choice fit the theme better, but could Wendy let it go? Nooooo.

Alexx nodded. "Fair. We'll pick you up at two-thirty."

We'll pick you up...

Realization dawned as she glanced at Sloane and Brianne. Great. More awkward moments to look forward to. She was just rolling in them.

The morning bell rang, and they headed to class. Unfortunately, she had homeroom with Sloane, but at least they sat on opposite sides of the classroom since Mrs. Trentworth randomly assigned seats.

After they said the pledge of allegiance and went over morning announcements, first period began—Honors English. Her worst class. Alex liked reading, don't get her wrong, but she liked fun reading. The ones that took you to magical castles and galaxies far, far away. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to twitch as the pirate fought the duke who killed his family, and holler when he got his revenge.

She picked up The Scarlet Letter and groaned. She wanted excitement. Not literature. Why did classic have to equal boring?

Sighing, she dropped the book back onto her desk and thumped her head against the white cinder brick wall. She was fortunate enough to be tucked in the far back corner so Mrs. Trentworth rarely called on her.

The boy in front of her turned around and eyed the book. "Not a fan?"

Alex quickly glanced at Mrs. Trentworth who was writing on the whiteboard. "Not really."

She'd never talked to him before, never even got a full look because his head was always down with a hoodie cloaking his face. It was a crying shame because wow. This guy gave Arlo del Torro some serious competition.

His razor-sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawline were softened by long black lashes that framed eyes the color of bitter chocolate. She'd never seen eyes that dark. They were beautiful and hypnotizing—like being lost in an endless pool.

He pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows and shifted so he could lay an arm on the edge of her desk. "Me either, but you can't fault Nathaniel Hawthorne."

She noticed a black string woven around his wrist. A single gold bead was on it, the color pulling out the golden tones in his brown skin.

"I mean he was brought up with those archaic ideals. Natural to assume he would write about them," he said. His voice was low and smooth like rich molasses. She detected a hint of an accent, but she couldn't pick up from where.

"You've already read it?" she asked.

"Haven't you?"

"No, since we're reading it in class."

He shrugged and fiddled with his jacket's zipper. How was he not suffocating? It was still summer. "I've read most of the syllabus," he said. "The Scarlet Letter is okay, but in my humble opinion, Lord of the Flies is better. How can you beat boys hunting other boys?"

A loud scoff startled Alex. "Humble?" Keya Patel asked. She sat to the right of Alex. "You're anything but."

"You don't know me," he snapped back.

Keya rolled her brown eyes and leaned over the aisle. "Excuse my cousin. Ravi here has a stick up his ass because he wants to be a writer and thinks he knows everything."

Cousin? Well, that explained the strain between the two. She noticed it the first day they sat down but chalked it up to her overactive imagination.

"A screenwriter, Keya," he corrected. "I want to be a screenwriter. Major difference. And what does a writer have anything to do with being well-informed?"

Keya gave Alex an I-told-you-so look. "He's like this all the time."

His eyes turned stormy. "Gee, I wonder why I would rather stay in my room than hang out with you and your sister."

The comment hits its mark. Keya's tone softened. "Ravi—"

"Like I said, you don't know me. I only started living with you a month ago, so why don't you save the judgment?" He whipped back around, his body vibrating with tension.

Keya's mouth pressed into a thin line as she stared at his back, regret lingering in her face.

Talk about uncomfortable. Alex rubbed a hand over her skirt, not sure what to do. She was pretty sure this was the first time he'd talked to anyone in class. Was he new? A ball of guilt formed. It wasn't easy starting in a new school with no friends.

Ripping off a piece of paper, she wrote, Thanks for the heads up about Lord of the Flies. Glad to know I have something to look forward to when I'm wading through Hester Prynne and abundant misogyny.

She flung it over Ravi's shoulder, hoping it wouldn't hit the kid who sat in front of him. Keya noticed and gave her an appreciative thumbs up. Alex hesitantly returned the gesture.

It was a well-known fact that Keya Patel and Alexx were arch-nemeses. It began back in elementary school when they fought over the role of turkey for their Thanksgiving Day play, and they hadn't stopped competing for roles since.

"I love your skirt, by the way. Where'd you get it?" Keya whispered.

"Oh, um, I made it. It's a bunch of ties sewn together." There'd been a major sale at a local thrift store, buy three ties, get two free, so she scooped up a bunch with no plan in mind.

Keya's mouth popped open. "No way. You made this? How long did it take you?"

She flushed with pride. "About a week. I had to rip out all the seams first, which felt like a lifetime." She re-tucked her simple white shirt into the waistband and smoothed out the wrinkles. She liked the end result. It was a simple A-line skirt that fell to her knees, but the ties gave it interest. Life was too short to wear boring.

Keya pushed her silky black hair behind her ear, showing off silver hoops. "I swear you always wear the most interesting stuff. Not like those cookie-cutter wanna-be's who buy everything from the same stores at the mall."

Keya also had her own fashion flair, which Alex had appreciated more than once. Not that she'd ever tell her best friend that. Complimenting Keya was a big fat no-no in Alexx's books.

"You make a lot of it, right?" Keya asked, a keen look in her eye.

"Not make, make. I mean I buy the clothes at the thrift store and then re-imagine it into what I want." Quality fabric was key. She'd rather buy an ugly dress made of fabulous material than a beautiful one made of cheap polyester.

"Enough talking," Mrs. Trentworth said, making a point to look at Alex and Keya. "Let's get back to our discussion."

Alex whipped her attention to the front, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sloane staring at her. She nibbled on her lip. Crap. Was she going to tell Alexx? It's not like she did anything wrong. They were just talking.

She chewed on it for the rest of class, zoning out as Mrs. Trentworth lectured about literary themes. She would have missed the bell ringing if it hadn't been for someone bumping her shoulder.

Shaking herself awake, she stood up and began packing her things. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed a note peeking out of her planner.

Ravi?

She glanced around, but he was long gone.

Sorry, if I came across as an ass. I'm not one, I swear, although as I write this, I realize only asses would deny being asses. And wow, am I writing ass a lot. I'm going to stop now, so I don't make myself more of an ass than you already think I am.

-Ravi aka The Ass, or not depending on how well you take this apology note.

Smiling, she carefully folded it back up and tapped the note against her lips. Definitely not an ass.