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Dear Ms. Delacroix,
Thank you so much for your submission, Ransom My Heart. We here at AuthorPress were highly impressed by it, and we think it shows a lot of promise! However, it’s important to keep in mind that publishing houses receive well over 20,000 submissions a year, and in order to stand out, your manuscript needs to be PERFECT. For a nominal fee ($5 per page), your manuscript, Ransom My Heart, could be on store shelves by next Christmas—
The Senior Class of
Albert Einstein High School
requests the pleasure of your company at
the senior prom
on Saturday the Sixth of May at seven o’clock in the evening at the
Waldorf-Astoria ballroom
Thursday, April 27, Gifted and Talented
Mia—We’re going shopping for prom dresses—and for something to wear to your birthday shindig—after school. Bendel’s and Barneys first, then if we strike out there, we’ll hit Jeffrey and Stella McCartney downtown. You in?—Lana
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
L—I’m sorry. I can’t. Have fun, though!—M
What do you mean, you can’t? What else do you have to do? Don’t say princess lessons because I know your grandmother has canceled them while she gets ready for your big pahtay, and don’t say therapy either because you only have that on Fridays. So what gives? Don’t be such a byotch, we need your limo. I blew all my taxi money for the month on a new pair of D&G patent leather platform slingbacks.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
Wow. Coming clean about Dr. Knutz to my friends was freeing and all of that, just like he said it would be.
Especially since it turns out most of them have been in therapy, too.
But some of them—such as Lana—tend to treat the subject way too casually sometimes.
I’m staying after school to help J.P. with his senior project. You know he’s putting on his final performance piece for the senior project committee next week. I promised I’d be there for him. He’s worried about some of the performances his actors are giving. He thinks Amber Cheeseman’s little sister, Stacey, doesn’t really seem to be giving it her all. And she’s the star, you know.
OMG, that play he wrote? God, what are you two, attached at the hip? You can spend ten minutes apart, you know. Now come shopping with us. Pinkberry after! My treat!
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
Lana thinks Pinkberry solves everything. Or, if not Pinkberry, Allure magazine. When Benazir Bhutto got assassinated, and I couldn’t stop crying, Lana got me a copy of Allure magazine and told me to get in the bathtub and read it cover to cover. Lana was seriously all, “You’ll feel better in no time!”
And I’m pretty sure she really meant it.
The weird thing was, after I did what she said, I sort of did feel a little better.
I also knew a lot more about the dangers of SmartLipo. Still.
Lana. It’s an artistic thing. J.P.’s the writer/director. I have to be there to support him. I’m the girlfriend. Just go without me.
God, what is with you? It’s PROM. Fine, be that way. I’ll forgive you, but only because I know you’re freaking out over this election thing of your dad’s. Oh, and where you’re going to go to school next year. God, I can’t believe you didn’t get in anywhere. I mean, even I got into Penn. And my senior project was on the history of eyeliner. Good thing my dad’s a legacy, I guess.
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Ha, yeah, well, it’s true! I got the lowest math SAT score you can get. Who’d want me? Thank God L’Université de Genovia has to accept me, on account of my family being its founder and major benefactor, and all.
You’re so lucky! A college with beaches! Can I come over for spring break? I promise to bring plenty of Penn hotties…Oops, gotta go, Fleener is breathing down my neck. What is UP with these pinheads? Don’t they realize we only have two weeks left at this place? Like our grades even MATTER anymore!
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