Mostly Good Girls, by Leila Sales. The summary:
It’s Violet’s junior year at the Westfield School. She thought she’d be focusing on getting straight As, editing the lit mag, and figuring out how to talk to boys without choking on her own saliva. Instead, she’s just trying to hold it together in the face of cutthroat academics, her crush’s new girlfriend, and the sense that things are going irreversibly wrong with her best friend, Katie.Mini-Review:
When Katie starts making choices that Violet can’t even begin to fathom, Violet has no idea how to set things right between them. Westfield girls are trained for success--but how can Violet keep her junior year from being one huge epic failure?
I’ll start off by saying that “Mostly Good Girls” is HILARIOUS; it’s probably one of the funnier books that I’ve read recently. I totally loved Violet and Katie’s friendship, and I think the author captures the casual banter between friends perfectly. However, I didn’t feel like the story progressed much further than funny--it never really achieved any depth. I think the whole thing with Violet’s friend Katie making bad decisions was supposed to provide the aforementioned depth, but in reality the book ended up reading more like a girl’s diary; it was very “day in the life.” So if you’re looking for a hilarious, light read, I definitely recommend this book—just don’t expect it to be much more than that.
A lot of Harper Woodbane guys come to Westfield dances, so it’s also a great opportunity for Scott Walsh–watching expeditions. I don’t see nearly enough of him, because I can never think of a credible reason why I should be in his vicinity. (“Heyyy, Scott! Fancy running into you here . . . on the tennis courts . . . at Harper Woodbane . . . a school that I do not attend.”) In fact I hadn’t seen him since our ice cream date three weeks earlier--and by “our ice cream date” I mean “that time he and I and four of our friends went to get ice cream and Scott said my name approximately once.” Now that Scott had my number, I kept hoping he’d text me again. He could even text me by accident, like if he was trying to reach someone else whose first name starts with V. That would be fine too. That’s how unpicky I am.