This isn't your typical high school tale... 

"The 'Divas' messed with the wrong Bitch"

St. Nicholas High-'The Column'




Annabel Mace just turned sixteen, five years after "acute lymphoblastic leukemia" ALL for short took her mom away. Turning sixteen is supposed to be sweet but to Anna, without her mom it was anything but. Having no friends, dad always away, stepmom- a bitch, stepbrother - a pain in the ass, she chose to confide in her long lost confidante, Dia whom she stopped speaking to after her mom's demise. Entry after entry she poured out the  emotions that came with this new age to Dia who never judged her, whom she trusted with her dirtiest and ugliest secrets, including her crush on Liam Denvers, the hottest boy in school. A modern Greek god. St. Nicholas High- all time sweetheart, captain of the football squad. The boy who makes her heart race. And her hate for Felicia Burner, a single divorcée, her father's former secretary, Henry's mom and the gold digger her dad had married three years after her mom died. Even her disdain for Henry Burner, the stupid stepbrother she got from the wedlock. And her adventures as she crosses items from her 'Sixteen-to-do-list'. But when the notorious 'Divas' of St. Nicholas High (Mia Hover, Susan Sams and Alicia Stones) gets wind of their deepest secrets, sixteen became an age she would never forget. 

What will beget of Annabel Mace, will the pain forever mar her, will she be able to rise above the pangs, will Dia become a memory of the past, will she forge ahead with their friendship, will Liam Denvers keep his promise of being her prom date after realizing her infatuation towards him, will Felicia Burner ever forgive her, will Henry Burner ever speak to her again, will Daddy be able to look at her again, will she be able to face the school again and will her life ever know happiness once more?

Find out in the book "Dear Dia; My Sweet Sixteenth Diary". 

                               Josephine Boldface.

          

Dear Dia; My Sweet Sixteenth Diary

Today is a Sunday. Not just any Sunday. It's 'THE' Sunday. The day set aside to honor mothers all over the world. 


Another day to be reminded that she's no more. A day to sit still in a pew and refrain from shattering in front of all gathered. 


Mom had died on the 11th day of November and since then we've been attending mothering Sundays as a memorial of her death and the life she had lived. When she had been alive, we in fact attended but it had been different. She had been alive and now she isn't. 


It's been precisely two hundred and ten Sundays since the first one we went without her. A thousand and six hundred days since she died. Four mothering Sundays since her demise. Three, I had been in attendance. One hundred and four Sundays after the last one. And 2 years and ten days I've been dreading this. 


HAPPY MOTHERING SUNDAY, DEAR MOM