"I think I love him"
That night she lay in bed staring at the ceiling as the minutes and then hours passed. At last, she climbed out of bed and walked over to the window. She slid it open and looked outside. The leaves were rustling on the sycamore tree in the front yard. The crickets chirped in the grass, maddeningly loud. A car drove past the house. As its headlights faded into the distance, the first light of morning appeared in the sky. She climbed back into bed and tucked her blanket tightly around her.
When Madison awoke at noon on Saturday, she grabbed her diary from under her bed.
I think I love him. I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s on my mind every minute. When I sleep, he’s in my dreams. I just wish I could tell someone. I wish someone would understand the way I feel. I hate keeping all this a secret.