Reel Life Starring Us by Lisa Greenwald Read Free Book Online

makes it a million times worse. I couldn’t even tell Ali about it. And forget about telling my mom—that would crush her. It would be like I told her I was I moving to the moon or converting to another religion or something.
    But seeing that text message struck something in me. My situation is dire. I need to make Chelsea realize I’m cool. I know that if I were truly cool, I wouldn’t care about making her and her friends realize it. But oh, well. I guess I’m only moderately cool. But moderately cool is still something.
    We’re in the library after school, Chelsea’s sitting at thetable texting and I’m reading an article online from the
Berkshire Eagle
. It may be weird that I still read the newspaper from where I used to live, but I like to keep up to date about what’s going on there. The big Berkshire arts festival is this weekend and all these famous photographers and musicians are coming. There will be food vendors, too, selling fancy croissants and exotic cheeses and this amazing butternut squash soup. It’s painful to even think about it—this is the first arts festival I’m missing.
    Mr. Singer brings a huge stack of yearbooks over to the table, and I close the library laptop and return it to him. The yearbooks smell old, but it’s that good old smell, antique and special and delicate.
    â€œI’ve spent the past few days looking for other yearbooks for you girls, but I’m sorry to say we don’t have yearbooks going back all fifty years,” Mr. Singer tells us. “I think some got lost in the renovation.”
    â€œOh.” That seems sad to me. How can you lose a yearbook? It’s like a piece of history. I bet the Smithsonian never loses anything. “Isn’t there, like, a school archivist or something?”
    Mr. Singer sighs. “Not that I know of. Anyway, this should be a good start.”
    â€œIt’s so sad that all the yearbooks aren’t here,” I say out loud and then feel kind of pathetic that this upsets me. Sinceit’s only my first week at the school, I’m really not sure why I care so much. Getting sad about old yearbooks isn’t going to help convince Chelsea of my coolness.
    â€œYou’re probably the only one who cares this much about yearbooks,” Chelsea says flatly.
    See what I mean?
    â€œWell, I guess we should put them in order by year, and then we can get a better idea of the history.”
    â€œI’m so tired,” Chelsea says, putting her feet up on one of the library chairs and then looking around like she’s scared someone is going to catch her doing it. “Maybe we can start working on the project fully on Monday. I mean, it is Friday afternoon. All my friends are at the mall right now.”
    â€œOh, yeah.” My first Friday without Ali plans. Without ice cream at Bev’s and Baba Louie’s pizza for dinner and a sleepover.
    It feels too sad to think about. “I forgot it was Friday when I agreed to meet with you,” Chelsea says, looking at her phone like she’s waiting for a text or a call.
    â€œWell, my mom’s picking me up at five, so I might as well stay here,” I say.
    â€œCan’t you just call her on her cell?”
    I shrug. “I could, but there’s really no rush for me to get home. All I’ll find there is more unpacking to do. Kind of depressing.”
    Chelsea leans her elbow on the table and then rests her chin in her palm. “Yeah, well, I don’t really have anywhere to go, either.”
    â€œYou just said all your friends were at the mall.”
    â€œYeah, but there’s no point in going now.”
    Chelsea may be the most popular girl at Rockwood Hills Middle School, but she’s kind of nuts. I don’t know how to read her. One minute she’s all gung ho and the next minute she’s not interested at all. And then she switches again.
    She opens the yearbook on the top of the