---Chapter 1---

Sunday, November 5th, 2006.

Dear Diary,

Welcome to my world. The not-so-secret magical world of Eve Millings.

Yesterday was my fifteenth birthday. Yes, now I am the same age as everyone around me. Great. Why do I not feel any different than how I felt a couple of days ago? Age is such a stupid concept. I don’t even get why we fellow humans have to depress ourselves every single year. ‘Oh, another year of my life has just passed! Another year less left for me to live! How positively delightful!’

Not.

And not to mention that people never seem to give you the right gifts. I hate how sometimes you have to pretend to like whatever you’re given so that people don’t despise you for the rest of your life. fake smile ‘I positively adore this pair of frilly and lacey magenta-coloured overalls, Aunt so-and-so…’ Well, I got a diary this year which I guess isn’t half bad, considering I really did get those overalls last year…

Hmmm. I’ve never really had a diary before. I could be like every other person and promise you to write everyday. Which I could not possibly do because I obviously have more important things to do. Or so I’d like to think.

Let me give you the low-down on my current situation.

I live with my brother, my mother, and my step-dad (Who appears to think he’s the coolest thing since the Energizer bunny. Which I guess he is…if you’re into that whole macho guy act. He’s okay though.)

I go to a public high school. And I have friends. They’re usually there for me.

There’s this guy at my school that I’m totally in love with. Aside from all the cliché feelings and such, his smile really does brighten up the entire room. (Note to self: buy new pair of sunglasses.) He is such a role model. And not to mention très très good-looking. (Note to self: also buy a pack of tissues to wipe own drool off of t-shirt so that he does not think of me as a freak.) The only problem is that I don’t think that he knows I exist.

Thus, I have come up with the timeless brilliant plan of leaving anonymous love notes in his locker.

I’m a smart one, ain’t I?

Yesterday, I came up with the best poem. I wrote (neatly, and in my best writing) it onto a post-it note. I’m anticipating placing it into his locker tomorrow morning.

The only problem is that my brother caught me stealing one measly post-it note. He flipped out and told our step-dad. Luckily, he was all cool about it and distracted my brother by telling him that he would take him out for ice cream later. That just about sums up my brother right there. Perfectionist and avid ice cream consumer. I swear, that kid will get the first ‘Consumer Choice Award’ from Ben and Jerry’s.

Back to my almighty poem. I haven’t yet decided how I’m going to slip it into his locker. I mean, I’ve managed to sneak around enough to discover his locker combo…but I don’t want him to think I’m some crazy stalker person, right?

Gosh. I feel like James Bond in that scene (alright, those scenes) where he’s sneaking around with the theme song playing in the background. eyes dart around Just great.

‘Kay. Here’s the plan. I’ll get to school early (permitting they have already made my favourite doughnuts from Timmy’s at that time) and slip the note into his locker. Then I will standby at my locker. Then I will watch for him from my locker mirror, which will be aimed over my shoulder so that I can see him from across the hallway.

Yes…I am a genius. And my plan is foolproof. He’ll never know that it’s me.

Oh, but there’s a part of me that just wants to run up to him, smash my lips against his, and kiss him until he’s run out of breath and has turned blue…sighs

That was really weird of me. I’ve really got to learn to keep my hormones in check. It should totally be my new hobby. Considering how watching him is more of an obsession than a hobby.

I think today has gone pretty well. As has this first diary entry. It wasn’t as bad as I anticipated it to be.

I promise promise promise to update you as soon as possible on ‘Secret Project: Working to Get Him to Notice Me.’

Until then…

Love love love,

Eve Millings