Secret Notes, Angely Cruz [classic books for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

sent me the money from England to get a new car for my eighteenth birthday. I was happy and I couldn’t contain my excitement when mom took mo to the dealership. The ignition went into full blast when I turned the key.
The neighborhood was a quiet one. You could find nice houses in every corner and elderly couples having a good time with their dogs. When I was almost out of here, I saw the doctor from the hospital out of town. He was Dr. Lucious and he was behind my mother as much as she was behind him. They had gone into a few dates and I got to the conclusion it always went well because next week they were off to a high class restaurant or to spend time at some party for business people.
He saw me and waved but I kept my face forward. I never liked him nor his daughter Laura. She made my life hell through high school, so why would I bother thanking him for making my mom oh-so-happy when she was sad? I passed the café shop Rodrigo worked at and saw him walking in. Probably his shift was starting soon and he liked to be there earlier.
Rodrigo’s my best friend since diapers. My mom and his mom went to uni together and automatically they got me and him together for everything. Even when we went out together as babies, we were dressed to match. In the seventh grade, we went out for a week but knew it wouldn’t work out. It was a funny thing to do, really. Awkward was the appropriate way to describe it. He walked me to the classroom but them everyone would be looking and he got embarrased. Aw.
A parking spot in front of Jonah’s was free. I could feel the nervousness bubbling inside of me, in the pit of my stomach. I turned the car off and got out. I exhaled loudly and started walking to the big transparent door that awaited me. I was hit with the same smell of coffee and sweets I had been hit with the day before. The same guy was behind the cash register and I guessed he was Jeremiah, the one who called me. I walked towards him and was greeted with the now normal bored expression.
“What can I help you with, girl?”
“I uh,” I swallowed. “I’m here for the interview. I’m Marla Loxely.”
He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips in a not-creepy way. “Of course you are. Do you know how to use a cash register? No, do you know how to make coffee? Arrange CD’s maybe?”
I could feel my nerves high now. Sweat was forming in the corners of my forehead and I subconsciously wiped it away with my thumb.
“Yes,” I said a little bit too enthusiastically. “I do. I worked at the book store down the street before and I do coffee for me all the time. I also have a box full of CD’s that are alphabetically ordered.”
His eyes navigated my body from head to toe and then they fixated on my face. “Go fix the box of CD’s inside the rock and indie room,” he smirked, “by the name of the album not the artist.” Then he winked.
I sighed annoyingly and went inside the black and orange room. Way to go, Jeremiah. I looked around until my eyes found a bright yellow box in the table beside the music computers. My hand roamed inside and I pulled out an album. Bombay Bicycle Club: Flaws it read. I put it aside and picked another one, this time it was Florence and the Machine. I studied the cover looking for the name of it, Lungs. I moved it below the one I took out before.
“Are you organizing those?”
I jumped a few feets in the air and screeched. Yes, screeched. I turned around fast with my hand holding the place my heart is at. His beanie was gone and his light brown hair was in full view. The eye liner was noticeable now and his cardigan and boots were still there.
“Give me a heart attack,” I muttered. “Do you come here all the time?”
“Of course,” he chuckled. “Beatles girl, The Beatles.”
I looked him over and focused my attention on the CD’s again, starting to pick up a few more and putting them aside. I felt him walk and stand beside me. He was looking at me, I knew it. His hand reached forward and he took away from my hand the one I picked a few seconds ago.
“Hm,” he licked his lips. “I want this one. Hey, do you need help?”
“No, I can handle it.”
He chuckled. “Are you sure? Because that sure is a big hell of a box.”
“Whatever.”
I was never good with talking to boys. When I did, especially to attractive ones, I seemed to find the bitch inside of me. It decided to come out at the most unnecessary times. I looked at him and a little frown covered his face. I felt bad all of a sudden. He had tried to be nice but yesterday when I fell and went tumbling down with the box of posters, he picked one and left.
“Ouch.”
By the time my eyes rolled to meet his again, he was gone. I sighed and sat on the floor cross-legged. I stretched my arms up and picked the box. I positioned it beside me and roamed around it. I took a few albums out and put some in again. That’s how I spent the next five hours. When 7:00pm came around, Jeremiah went inside the little room and said he was closing soon and that I should go home. First pay day was next Friday and today was just Wednesday. I guess I can handle this.
Please Please Me

“Mom left this for you.”
Louis extended his hand and handed me something that was covered in newspaper. She left early this morning for some writer’s convention in Indiana. We were left alone for days when conventions came on. The good thing was I got Sarah Dessen’s autographed books.
“What is it?” I asked. “She didn’t say she was going to leave something for me.”
I picked up an apple from the table in the kitchen and sat down. Louis looked like he was thinking and I knew what was coming. “She told me but I forgot.” With that he turned around and left, the front door doing a banging sound seconds later.
I turned the package around in my hands a few times. I tore the newspaper apart and gasped. A beaten copy of Please Please Me by The Beatles was smiling back at me. I grasped it in my hands. I stood up and jumped around the table almost knocking a plastic glass by accident. I couldn’t believe my mom got me the thing I had been pulling my hair for the past months. The first The Beatles album and I had it in my hands. I ran up the stairs and into my room. Kneeling in front of the bed, I pulled out the box where all my CD’s layed neatly. I sat on the floor gazing longingly at the album. My fingers grazed the corners and I pushed it open. It felt so fragile I thought it might break in my hands. My eyes took in everything I saw inside. A smile started forming on my lips. Then I saw a paper—almost yellow because of the years maybe—tucked in the corner. It was folded nicely and had what seemed like nice cursive writing in black ink inside it. My fingers reached for it but I stopped myself before doing it. It could be a letter or something simple but who knew? I wanted to open it, read it and see what was inside. Maybe a big secret or a big confession.
I sighed and closed my eyes. My fingers felt around until they touched the paper. I opened my eyes now and pulled the paper out with such force I thought it ripped apart. I reluctantly and slowly opened it. My eyes narrowed and a cold rush of air passed through my body. I’ve never been good with secrets or mysteries or anything. But as I saw and read what the paper said, I felt myself knowing this was going to be big, huge.

Dear Stranger,
I’m from the old state of Indiana. I bought this used copy of The Beatles from a young man from London. A year later, I knew I was getting older. I gave this to my grand child, Alejandro’s son. He was happy. He liked The Beatles so much, that boy. His name is Conrad and he moved away when he was thirteen to live with his uncle in Ohio. He didn’t have any other choice but to go. His uncle, a big doctor, knew better than to take him and hold him as his own son. By the time someone reads this I must be dead. But I wish for you to do me a last favor. I want you to find Conrad and give him this. He left it at home when he moved and he deserves this. Whoever you are, please.
Sincerely,
Leonard Stonem