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First published in the United States of America by Razorbill, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2018
Copyright © 2018 Matthew Boren
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Ebook ISBN: 9780451478221
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Folded Note
September 1991
October 1991
November 1991
December 1991
January 1992
February 1992
March 1992
April 1992
May 1992
June 1992
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For my parents, Daryl and Joe, who gave me a pen that’s never run out of ink.
The FOLDED NOTE (n.) was a popular form of communication in high schools across America in the 1980s and 1990s, providing a forum for friends and lovers alike to share their most intimate thoughts about the world, their teenage angst, and the twists and turns in their hearts. Written on college-ruled notebook paper, notes were often folded and passed in high school hallways, shoved into book bags, pocketbooks, lockers, and desks. Folded notes were often sprayed with perfume or cologne and decorated with hearts, stars, and other doodles to enhance the reading experience. In the late 1980s, folded notes grew in size, becoming more than handwritten sound bites, but shared diary entries, short stories, or monologues. As the folded notes expanded, new folding techniques emerged to address the fact that notes were getting too thick to sneak into locker vents. No one is certain who invented the great flattening technique whereby one takes one’s thick folded note and presses it in the center of a math textbook, but that concept alone allowed for folded notes to get bigger and bigger, all the while enabling teenagers to continue passing them discreetly through the hallways of high schools across America.
The following account represents the folded note correspondence surrounding one Tara Maureen Murphy, senior at South High School, c. 1991–92.
SEPTEMBER 1991
Dearest Christopher,
What’s up? Q even believe we are 1 day away from being Seniors? Who woulda thought that I, Tara Maureen Murphy, and you, Christopher Patrick Caparelli, would end up a Supercouple after all this time? I guess what people say is wicked true, C.P.C.—summer before Senior year is super important slash life-changin’.
Christopher, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me in this two-bit town. I’ve been longing to get the hell outta this place, but now that I’m with you . . . well, it doesn’t seem so bad here after all. Suddenly, Shoppers World seems like a magical kingdom and not some average outdoor mall. Don’t get me wrong, Christopher. I AM NOT A TOWNIE! I long to see the world. A girl’s gotta make moves, know what I mean? But for now, my heart is here. With you. If you don’t dance with me when they play “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” at Prom, I am gonna be devastated. ’Cuz the song says it all, Mr. Mister . . . I HAVE had the time of my life, and you wanna know who I owe it all to, Christopher? You! Durr!
God, I shoulda listened to Kim McCardle all those years ago when she swore hockey players are the sexiest. Ohhhhh, Christopher. J’teme (that’s French, silly). No matter where I go to University (better be NYU!!) I will be “Forever Your Girl” (ATTENTION: Paula Abdul, if you’re reading this note . . . stop reading . . . THIS is a PRIVATE NOTE. J TO THE K) (that means “just kidding”).
K . . . I gotta run now. Goin’ shopping so I can get an awesome top to go with my candy cane miniskirt. A girl’s gotta look hot on the first day of school. I cannot wait to meet my guy under the stairwell in F Hall so we can make out as dumb teachers walk by.
Forever and a day,
Tara Maureen Murphy
P.S. I have auditions for the Fall Musical at the end of the week, so don’t bother me!! If I don’t get to play Sandy I will go crazy!
P.P.S. I will totally be nice to your neighbor slash freshman friend, Adam. Or is it Marty? Wait, I feel so stupid because I simply can’t remember . . . what is his name? Oh yeah . . . Matt.
Dear Tara,
Sweet. A note in my mailbox. Awesome way to start Senior year. I’m gonna swing by your house on the way to finally gettin’ a sunroof cut into my car, and I’m gonna stick this in your mailbox.
I will dance the crap outta you at Prom. Don’t even worry. When that song comes on, I will be dirty dancing all over your face. And I know it’s wicked far in advance, but we should rent a stretch from Kurt Cutter’s dad’s company and definitely go with Tzoug and whoever he is dating, Dube and whoever he is dating, and obviously Stef and whoever she’s hooking up with—I mean dating. Hey, maybe we can finally get her interested in Tzoug or Dube. How awesome would life be if there could be another couple in town as sick as us, especially if one is my best friend and one is your best friend? Sick, right? So friggin’ psyched
