It can be a novella, a novel, a play, or anything one can think of, so long as Mr. Tweezer approves it. The project’s due at the end of the semester, and so far I’d accumulated a book of approximately eighty pages, filled with daydreams and fantasies I would never dare publish. Then again, they did invent this thing called a pen name… My book’s about a girl who couldn’t get much, until she met this amazingly hot, smart, sweet guy who sweeps her off her feet, always knows what to say, and never wanders. Yeah, that should sound familiar. And—because it’s fitting—I should title it My Best Friend’s Brother. I have not yet decided whether this guy’s dad looks like a male model, or if he’s a womanizer—I’m not sure I want to ruin the book. I mean, don’t guys end up like their fathers someday, anyway? What a plot twist! I bit my nail and stared at the clock. Another sixty minutes of class; of smelling Luke’s cologne besides me. Another three days until our plane leaves, carrying us to five days of freedom.
