Getting Over Garrett Delaney

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He waited patiently while I took a gulp of my mocha whip and tried to register this new reality where cute boys actually made intelligent conversation with me instead of just shooting spitballs into my hair all through third period bio. Maybe Kayla was right: maybe high school really would be different.

I took a breath, thanking the Gods of False Advertising that I was wearing a padded bra, which could, maybe, possibly make me look at least sixteen. I just moved to Sherman. He grinned at me like we were in this together. Friends, partners, future class couple. Prom king and queen.

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And in that glorious instant, I could see it all stretching out in front of us, like those cute couple montages in all those romantic- comedy movies Kayla and I love: Garrett and me fooling around with old video games in the arcade;. Garrett and me snuggled up in a listening booth at the record store; Garrett and me lying out by the riverbank, holding hands, making out. I looked over at him and knew that this was the start of my own real- life love story.

I sit up so fast I get a head rush, the world tilting from blue sky to gray bleachers and back to the lush grass of the empty football field. A kitten- unicorn hybrid?


They had them at the store, but I just figured, you know, your allergies, and those wings flapping around. Garrett never just takes the store gift- wrap option or grabs a roll from the closet at home. Garrett smiles. I left some notes in the margins for you. I watch him for a moment, shadows falling across those perfect cheekbones. I knew the day we met that it was fate! But I guess even fate finds a way of destroying your hopes and dreams, leaving your heart dashed on the cruel rocks of life just ask the poor souls in all those Greek myths. Everything except the only thing I ever really wanted us to be.

And it kills me. I sneak another look at Garrett, lying out on the grass beside me. He yawns, stretching a little as he does; his shirt rides up, revealing a whole inch of pale- golden stomach. I stifle a familiar sigh of longing. Garrett can never stay still for long, and sure enough, after a couple of minutes, he sits up, restless. I stuff my goodies into my own beat- up leather satchel and head back toward the parking lot, my frayed jeans dragging on the grass.

Six weeks together at an intensive writing camp in the woods of New Hampshire who could ask for a more romantic retreat? Sure, there are eight- hour days of classes scheduled, but those will fl y by. Snuggling together around the campfire, walking in the moonlight down by the lake. We reach his old Vespa, parked in the middle of the concrete. I laugh.

Never mind adventure. This is the part I love the most: the excuse to hold him tight for as long as our journey takes. Totally Wired is busy when we arrive, the evening cappuccino crew jostling for position with the summer college crowd buried behind their textbooks. We head for our regular table in back, the one under the wall of old rock- show posters, peeled and fading.

Garrett waves away my crumpled dollar bills. He heads for the counter while I settle back and check out the scene. This place is the closest Sherman, Massachusetts, comes to having a hangout of any kind: the lone beacon of coolness in a line of generic drugstores, take- out places, and bland clothing outlets.


I live in the cultural wastelands, I swear. No, if we want culture, we have to drive for it: forty miles to the nearest college town or a couple of hours east to Boston, where Garrett and I gorge on Indian food, arthouse movies, and the sweet, sweet mildewy scent of used bookstores.

But I have to admit, as lone beacons go, Totally Wired is great. I look down at my red sneakers, feeling a glow of pride. Fashion compliments from the resident vintage queen are gold dust; LuAnn is always showing up in crazy ensembles, with her long red hair in pin curls or a severe wave. You can do. I grin. After all, what is cake if not a vehicle for frosting? I shrug.

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Meeting Justin Beiber. The truth is, I wished for the same thing I always do, when I let myself wish at all. A group of girls comes chattering along the aisle next to us, fourteen or fifteen years old maybe, heading back toward the bathroom. Garrett and I share an amused roll of the eyes. I giggle.

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Garrett says those ice- blended syrupy things are milk shakes with delusions of grandeur kid stuff so I switched to the hard stuff ASAP after we met. I fix him with a dubious look. Tiny, incessantly organized, insanely overprotective? Plot Summary: Seventeen-year-old Sadie has been secretly in love with her best friend, Garrett, ever since he moved to her town two years ago. Forced to find a job to save up for college, she tries her best to stay in touch with Garrett through email, texts, and phone calls.

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At first it is hard for her but soon she realizes that everything she was for the past two years was what Garrett wanted her to be. She liked what Garrett like, she wanted what Garrett wanted, etc. Will she be able to stand firm or will she succumb to the boy who has consumed her life for the past two years? Critical Evaluation: This book is great. Sadie is a likeable character from the beginning. The thing I probably like the best though is the overall positive message that the book sends to readers.

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