Page 1 of Before We're More Than Friends
CHAPTER 1
Dallas
SIX YEARS AGO
Dear Alexander F,
Hi! I’m Chloe, and I’m going to be your pen pal, I guess.
Honestly, I didn’t even know that writing letters was still a thing people under the age of sixty did ever since email existed. My teacher said we have to exchange letters with a complete stranger back and forth until we’re not complete strangers. If that’s the case, I’ll tell you about my lame self.
Actually, maybe you won’t think I’m so lame. Are you still awake to read this? I’ll keep going.
My real name actually isn’t Chloe—that’s my middle name. I’m not sure if the school told you or not, but I was told that you requested to go by your middle name instead of your first name for privacy reasons (which is insane, given that we literally have to know each other’s addresses for this. Oh, I wasn’t calling you insane! You know what I mean, right?) so I decided to go by my middle name too. Not because I think you’re a creepy old man pretending to bean elementary school student, but because I wanted us to match. Friends like to match and stuff, right?
My parents signed me up for this pen pal program because I don’t have many friends. Yeah, it’s sad. I bet you have a laundry list of friends. But either way, I still hope you don’t think I’m lame, or even worse, annoying. I’m really excited to get to know you, whatever-your-first-name-is Alexander whatever-the-F-stands-for.
My birthday is April 30, so that makes me ten years old as of January 12, when I’m writing this chaotic-butt letter. (I don’t think the teachers would approve of me using my alternative for butt—I got in trouble for saying it in class. Will the teachers read through our letters before we send them?) But I’m sure this letter will come in the mail before I turn eleven. I’m in fifth grade. School stinks outside of music class and art class.
Moving on, my favorite food is garlic bread. My mom makes it for us whenever she cooks. My grandpa gave her a cookbook with a bunch of Italian recipes (his family is from Italy!), but she makes garlic breadsticks the most. It’s the best thing ever. My least favorite food is, hands down, tuna. My dog barfed it up once and ruined it for me. She’s so gross sometimes, but it’s hard to stay mad at her.
Oh, I should tell you about her! Her name is Penrose. Very fancy name for a German Shepherd who acts anything but fancy, but I can’t imagine what else we would’ve named her. Tammy? That sounds like a good dog name. Still, doesn’t fit. Penrose is my best friend and my favorite member of the family (but don’t tell anyone I said that).She spends most of her time in my room, so I know I’m her favorite. I hate it when she chews up my jewelry and notebooks, though. But like I said, I could never stay mad at her.
Not only am I obsessed with animals, but I love making jewelry. My number one dream is to have my own jewelry business. I don’t know what I would call it yet, but I’ve been working hard since I made my first friendship bracelet. Bracelets are my favorites to make, but I also make necklaces and earrings. Wouldyou want me to make you a bracelet? I have a lot of options to choose from! My mom is very supportive of my dream, but my dad would like me to have a more “practical job” like he and my mom do (he’s a loaded real estate developer, and my mom works at a law firm). Screw what he thinks, even though he tries to make his opinion seem like the most important thing in the world.
Like I said, I don’t have many friends. My best friend is Isabelle, my ride-or-die girl. She wants to open her own hair salon for women of all hair types, and I think our businesses would do awesome next to each other. She is the first person to try on my jewelry, and I always let her do my hair. She’s literally the best, but I have no one to hang out with when she’s busy.
My mom has a bunch of rich-people friends she gathers with at the country club. Sometimes she makes me hang out with her best friend’s daughter, Gracelynn. She goes to private school and is a talented dancer (she does ballet, contemporary, and jazz! Can you believe that?). She’s nice and all, but we don’t have much in common. My sister is best friends with her, though.
My sister, Arielle, is actually my identical twin (but I’m a minute older because she basically pushed me out of my mom when I wasn’t ready), but we’re not super close. People think we can read each other’s minds, but we actually can’t. They also mistake me for her because she’s more popular than me. We don’t even dress alike! I wear purple, and she wears pink and red.
One of my favorite things is music. I CANNOT live without music. I’d be bored as heck making jewelry with nothing but the TV in the background. I also love reading and collecting notebooks. My bookshelves are completely full. I even had my dad buy me more, but we’re running out of space in my room (and my room is huge, not to brag). I wonder if I can start storing stuff in the spare bedroom (which is also huge).
Enough about me. Tell me about you! Make it long, make it short, whatever floats your boat. Just don’t bore me. (I hope that doesn’tsound rude. People say I’m rude, but I’m not trying to be. But what other people say doesn’t matter to us!)
Have a very great day. And if you’re not having a great day, I hope I’ve cheered you up!
Chloe V?
A smile spread across my face as I looked down at the letter. No, I hadn’t been having a bad day, but my new pen pal had already made it brighter. Boring? Yeah, right.
I brushed my hand against her pretty handwriting. It was so neat, a blend between print and cursive. I imagined a girl my age with her head down, writing this letter slowly and carefully with a purple pen in her hand and a smile on her face, and my own smile widened.
Looking back, I didn’t know why I’d been too scared to go by my first name. Maybe it was because everyone made fun of the fact I was named after the city I lived in. Or maybe it was the fact I’d been paranoid about who I’d be paired up with. For all I knew, it could’ve been someone who was obsessed with murder.
You didn’t have to be old to be out of your mind, right?
As my hand brushed along the marks on the paper, the class around me bounced off the walls. Most of us had received our letters in the past few days but were told to wait until today, the sixteenth, to open them in class. Some people were excited about their new friend, some complained about the pest the system had paired them with, and the rest were indifferent.
The ruckus going on in here would make you think this was a preschool class.
I turned to my best friend, Toby Atkinson, who was staring down at his paper. “Who did you get?”
“This boy from somewhere in California.” He shrugged. “He’s very into video games, which is cool, but it sounds like he has no social life. He just jumped right into the games he plays and only asked me what I play.”
“I mean, sounds like every normal ten-year-old boy.”
“Yeah, because we’re far from normal.”
