". . . A fun romp through Laurel and Matt's senior year. Getting what you ask for can really complicate your life, especially when it makes you the boss of a potential boyfriend. Ms. Herrick does a nice job of leading her characters through the confusing time that is high school. Laurel learns that balancing work and romance is difficult work and that compromise is the name of the game." ~ Brenda Edde, Timeless Tales
". . . Ms. Herrick winds her light and humorous touch around the age-old teenage insecurities surrounding romance, other people's opinions, and self-image. Self-discovery can be both painful and rewarding, with a touch of rueful humor. . ." ~ Jeanette Cotrell, eBook Reviews Weekly
I'm glad I'm not unattractive. But at times I've seriously wished I were regal, sophisticated, the kind of person who would be taken seriously. Unfortunately, I usually have to worry about people wanting to pat my head. In fact, Anna has always said my whole family, with our wavy blond hair, big brown eyes, and turned up noses, remind her of a litter of cocker spaniels. In other words, cute. Painfully cute.
"I totally think I might be named editor-in-chief," I said to myself as much as to Anna. "I mean, I was a junior class assistant last year. Plus, I completely want it!"
"Don't worry," said Anna, always one to reassure me when I was nervous. "Bonine knows your writing."
He knows my writing. He knows my writing. He knows my writing. Maybe if I repeated that mantra enough, my yearbook dream would come true.
During the rest of our walk to school my mind was spinning with plans. The first thing I would do would be to eliminate the Who's Who section. Okay, it was one of the most popular features, but I have my reasons. My parents had been named the Most Adorable Couple in their high school yearbook eons ago, and I didn't want a label like that to stalk me the rest of my life. Not that I was dating anyone in particular, adorable or otherwise. I just didn't want to take any chances.
At school, Anna wished me luck before I headed off to my meeting. Just before strolling into the yearbook office in a way that I hoped was totally casual, I took a deep breath, held my head high, and tried to look as authoritative as possible.
"Hi, Laurel." Mr. Bonine smiled at me over his pink paisley tie.
I hoped he'd considered my "A" average in English instead of my not-so-commanding image. I'd been in clubs and on committees before, but this would be my first time as head of anything. If I was named editor. What would it be like? How would I handle it? I desperately wanted the chance to find out.
As soon as the rest of the committee members were seated, Mr. Bonine said, "And now, this year's editors!" With a dramatic flourish he wrote the names on the blackboard.
Ruby Melonson, Advertising Director. She was organized and direct. I could easily work with her.
Bret Fleet, Production Manager. Another serious student and hard worker. Things were shaping up.
Matt Stannard, Photo Editor. Hmmm. A new guy at school. I didn't know much about him except that he was in my U.S. History class and had dark brown hair, big blue eyes, and a cleft in his chin that rivaled my dimples for depth. I noticed, too, that he blushed through his freckles when his name was written on the blackboard. Other than that, he was a question mark.
Okay, so far it seemed like a good group. If only my name would appear next, everything would be perfect.
Mr. Bonine paused, then said, "And now the editor-in-chief!" He started writing. S-A-L-L-Y. Sally? Oh, no! Sally who? I looked around frantically, totally confused. Who on earth was Sally? I didn't know any Sally's. Not in the whole school!
Mr. Bonine chuckled and erased "Sally." He replaced it with Laurel Blossom. Me! I guess that was Mr. Bonine's lame idea of a joke--giving me a heart attack.
Everyone laughed. Me, I tried to look all editor-in-chiefish.
"Congratulations," Matt said to me.
Before I could thank him, everybody started congratulating everybody else. I thought I congratulated Matt in there somewhere, but I wasn't sure.
Copyright (C) 2011 Ann Herrick
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