→ Chapter 1 "Happy birthday, Smila!" I heard my dad say. "So you're saying it's the 17th year that I say you named me poorly?" I asked, only half joking. "Smila, not now. It's time for the best part, dress shopping for prom!" Always, I thought, my mom was in the mood for shopping. "Guys, chill. I'm 17. Yay." I heard myself say. Though in a year, I would turn 18 and head off to college. Little do they know, I thought, I had a date, if I could find out who. In a note a friend slipped into my bag on Friday, yesterday, it said i had a date who really wanted to go with me, but wasn't completely sure and was also too shy to do this. So, it was a mystery of who asked me. "Can I go chill with my friends right now?" I asked. I needed to go to my secret refuge, and friends were always my excuse. "Of course you can, honey. It is your day, anyway.” I was out the door before they could blink twice, with my oversized jacket. The reason that it was so important wasn’t it itself, but the journal inside it. It contained thoughts, worries, plots for stories, small stories, and my unforgettable note. Dear Smila, I have liked you for a long time, and don’t want to take anybody else to the dance. I don’t know how to do this. But I know that, even though my heart says otherwise, my head tells me that I must make you prove yourself. If you accept, or are too curious to resist, find the first clue to who I am hanging around our locker tomorrow morning. It will tell you where the next one is. Don’t expect me to make all of these so easy to find. I know you can find them. It’s just a matter if you will. -your secret admirer P.S. I’ve liked you for a long time, like over a year. (I didn't finish, but it's fine, I guess.)
