Excerpt of Tweet Heart by Elizabeth Rudnick

From: [email protected]

Sent: Saturday, March 13, 2:33pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: Come home!

Alright, Charlotte May. If I don't hear from you soon, I'm going all CSI on you and putting out an APB. I need my best friend back--live and in person.

Since you left for your uber-fancy trip (um, can I steal your parents?), I've been at the barn with Maverick or at Bennett's. That's it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my horse and Bennett is my boy--but chilling with a guy you used to steal toys from in the paddle pool isn't exactly a thrill. Will P. has been around too, so that's at least helped mix things up a bit. Though most of our conversations revolve around the relative merits of Star Wars vs. Star Trek. I swear, L, if I have another argument over whether Captain Kirk could take Luke, I might go mad. Or start speaking Klingon. It's a fine line. You see why I need you back?

One mini-disaster to report: I cut my hair. And got highlights. I blame YOU for the mop on my head. If you had been here you would have told me this was not a good idea. All I wanted was auburn highlights--like in that picture of Scarlett J. you showed me--and just a few layers. I now have fire-engine red streaks and I’m pretty sure a bowl cut. Seriously Lottie, it’s worse than the time you cut my bangs while we waited in line for school pics and told me that uneven was the new even. I still don’t think my mother has forgiven you for that.

All this alone time has got me thinking, we only have one more semester left of junior year. Isn’t that wild? Then we’ll be seniors and then we’ll leave South Carolina, go to college, and then...what? You’ll join a sorority and have an insanely hot boyfriend and I’ll probably end up living in the library, alone. Guess not much different from now. But the point is, time is flying by. We need to make the most of this semester. Maybe I’ll finally let you try to set me up with the king of seniors, Mr. “I’ve got Zac Efron hair” Jack Dyson Whitcomb. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? He’ll ignore me like he has for the past decade?

See what happens when you go away? I go stir-crazy. I ramble in emails and contemplate foolish pursuits. You NEED to get back here ASAP to distract me with tales of Italian boys, pasta, fine art, and vineyards. Only two more days and counting. Can’t wait. Call me as soon as you land. Or tweet or whatever.

xoxo

Claire