My heart did a little tap-dance. The cover was worn, the corners softened like they’d been chewed by a golden retriever, and the spine had those beautiful white crease lines that meant someone had read it a dozen times. Someone had loved this book.

I stood there in the dusty aisle, holding a $1.25 book that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. This wasn’t just a used book. This was a confession. A diary inside a Dork Diaries .

“I wish I had a friend like Zoey. Or maybe just one friend at all.”

But three days later, a new book appeared in my locker. Tales from a Not-So-Popular Party Girl . Used. Worn. And inside the front cover, in sparkly purple gel pen:

I pulled it out reverently. Price: $1.25.

Zoey found me ten minutes later, holding a stack of books two feet high. “Nikki? You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost wearing a glitter beret.”

Next to the scene where Nikki’s mom comforts her, Mackenzie had written: “My mom is always on a cruise. With her new husband. #whatever”