For the first time in years, Allison's coming home to Vermont for her family's semi-bizarre five-day Christmas celebration, and she's bringing her boyfriend. Unfortunately, he's not all that festive, and everyone - including the boy that Ally spent every Christmas with as a kid - can't help but notice.

Truth was, there wasn't anyone at school who wasn't on good terms with Tommy. Hence the chameleon thing. He just floated from group to group to group, fitting in anywhere he decided he wanted to be. And when someone like that walks into your place of work at 10 PM on Christmas Eve to recruit you for a holiday-themed scavenger hunt, you pretty much have to say yes.

Five years ago, in the midst of a hormonal high-school breakdown following a messy breakup, Emily sort-of-kind-of-might-have... macked it with the guy playing Santa Claus at the local mall. So what? Not like she's ever gotta see him again, right? Wrong.

Video games and comic books are not cool. Charlie Moyer knows this. She doesn't need a constant reminder—especially from her worst enemy. But when she comes back five years later without the glasses and braces, Shane Griffith is first on her list.

Guys like me were no comparison, with their light-reddish tussled hair, dorky interests, lanky stature, and tendency to care too much. Guys like me were always the best friends, and everyone was always telling me that I was completely whipped.

Are you sure you want a job here, though?" I asked, stealing another glance at his appearance. "And why not? I like ice-cream just as much as the next guy. And besides." He grinned and motioned to my apron. "I look damn stunning in pink."

I'd spent twelve years being your best friend, but that changed at age seventeen.

When this boy had found me shackled to his tree in his underwear, my head pointed upwards as I yelled profanities at the top of my lungs, he had kindly untied me, and, after a brief explanation as to who I was, led me inside. -Plushie's writing contest

His eyes widened before he put his hands up defensively. 'Woah… My God, alright. I just thought you were someone I knew…' He stuck his hands in his pockets and retreated back to his white car. 'Merry Christmas,' he murmured before getting in.

At first, I actually considered myself lucky. One look at Brady told me that he was sort of cute. However, when you take a second glance at a guy through streams of icecream cake that are dripping down your forehead, You tend to change your opinion.

Not that I have any reason to be nervous,' I assured myself. 'Because Brandon’s just my friend and he’s just keeping me company while I’m stuck taking my little cousin trick-or-treating. I feel nothing toward Brandon whatsoever.'

Thats what I liked about Mattie. He always met me halfway. His house bordered the baseball field on the east and mine bordered it on the west. The pitchers mound was right smack in the middle. It was never too far a walk if I needed him.

He refused to refer to me as his best friend, and I told him I only kept him around for his cooking. But the truth was, we cared about each other more than anything. No matter how much we got on each other’s nerves.

If you want to be more specific, the writing on the desk is what really changed my life. Scribbled across the surface of that life-changing desk in the back of that history classroom was a three month conversation with a boy I’d never even met.

You should come up here,' Scott said, breaking me out of my daze. 'Come where? Up to the bakery?.' I asked into the phone. 'Yeah,' he replied. 'If I have to sit here alone any longer, I'm gonna to strangle myself with this bakery string.'

My best friend and I were standing in front of the shed the first day we got it. The areas around our mouths were stained from our self congratulatory popsicles. My favorite part of the snapshot was that our hands were connected between us.

So that’s how it happened. I lost the bet, and now he had to know. The guy I had never ever talked to a day in my life had to find out that I liked him. This was bound to be awkward.

I never, in a million years, would have guessed that Hunter Ashen was interested in playing drums for our band. The guy wasn’t mean, necessarily. But the quiet, rocker type boy had everyone in our school intimidated.

"Would you like anything written on the cake? You know... Happy Birthday, Congratulations so and so?" He asked. "Yeah," I responded. "Do you think you could write something along the lines of 'Boys Suck?"