The Boy Is Back by Meg Cabot (18)

He’s here.

What? Who is where? You woke me up. It’s 1AM here.

I’m sorry. I’m at his parents’ house. The sister-in-law didn’t tell me he was going to be here, but he’s here.

OMG TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW

For some reason there’s a deli platter.

Not that kind of stuff. About him. How does he look?

Good. Too good. He’s taller than I remember.

He grew.

No.

Becky, yes. You were teenagers when you last saw one another. He’s grown since then. You both have, in more ways than just physically, hopefully.

What else?

He’s wearing a tie. Oh, God, why did he have to be wearing a tie?

More, please. How did he react when he saw you?

Startled. I don’t think his sister-in-law told him I was going to be here.

Well, at least he didn’t run again. MORE PLEASE.

I can’t tell you more. I’m in the bathroom. I excused myself because I was so freaked out. I needed a minute to collect myself.

Now I have to get back out there. His dad is telling me about his extensive hammer collection.

His what???

Gavels. Sorry. They are judge’s gavels. I think. I don’t know. I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous???

Because you haven’t seen the guy in ten years and before that you two were the hottest couple in Bloomville history?

Leeanne. The house, though. You don’t even want to know.

Yes, I do. I really, really want to know.

The word nightmare does not even begin to describe it.

The Stewarts are being so kind to me, though.

I don’t care about them. I want to know about Reed!

Polite but distant. He’s eaten all the chicken salad from the deli platter.

Do not wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me about chicken salad.

I want to know about HIM HIM HIM.

I don’t know what else to say! He seems dazed. He’s looking around the house like he doesn’t recognize anything in it . . . which could be true, he’s been gone a long time and his parents seem to have adopted some unusual habits in the past few years.

Drugs?

Of course not. Collecting. A LOT. Look, I have to go back out there. They’re going to think I have food poisoning from the deli platter.

Well, now I’m up, so text me and tell me every detail as it happens.

That would be weird and unprofessional.

Oh, because Chat Apping me from the bathroom isn’t.

Anyway, you can pretend like you’re taking notes.

No. Don’t be silly. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.

I can’t believe this is happening without me. I’m coming home.

What? Don’t be crazy.

I’m looking into flights right now.

You’re insane. Goodbye, Leeanne.