I’d like to say something clever, but my tongue is paralyzed. This guy is tall and built and—okay, maybe he’s not
exactly handsome. Wait, that’s not true. He is exactly handsome. From ten feet away I can see the electric blue of his
eyes. All of that put together makes him the Superman of redheads.
After a year in rural Cottonwood Creek, Iowa, city girl Laurel is still adjusting to a place where parties take place in
barns, guys ride around in pickup trucks, and a killer senior prank involves getting pigs into the principal’s office.
Fortunately, she has her best friend Aspen, an Iowa native, to show her around. The real problem is that neither the
country girl nor the city slicker have boyfriends—or any prospects for getting them. Clearly, they need to raise their
profile—and they have a summer to do so.
What do you get from this? First we thought the book would be about Laurel, from her point of view and perspectives. It wasn't. It was about Aspen. Second, we thought it would be a summer-love-hang-out-at-the-beach story. Two girls who laze about summer going to beach parties and meeting cute boys. Not the case. Instead, it's about two girls who find themselves mixed up in usual situations, being bullied by the town thugs and wishing the summer was better than it was. Yup, not at all what we expected.
Unfortunately, it wasn't like the unexpected was better. We had a hard time believing that the thugs would have gotten away with what they did, feeling someone would have been on their trail at some point. We didn't like the fact that the love interests settled for the slutty girls just because Laurel and Aspen were in trouble and grounded. As a hopeless romantic who likes to feel like a teenager, I have to believe that if a boy wants to see you, he'll do whatever he can like come walking with you as you stroll around with a skunk in a baby carriage.
This book did have some funny moments. We did like the skunk story line. But at the end of the day, we were no impressed. Next on the docket, Marcelo in the Real World by Francisco X. Stork. As always, I'll keep you posted.