Ginny Blackstone thought that the biggest adventure of her life was behind her. She spent last summer traveling around Europe, following the tasks her aunt Peg laid out in a series of letters before she died. When someone stole Ginny's backpack--and the last little blue envelope inside--she resigned herself to never knowing how it was supposed to end. Months later, a mysterious boy contacts Ginny from London, saying he's found her bag. Finally, Ginny...
You know that feeling of heart-stopping embarrassment you get when you come across a photo of yourself from years ago? It's a universal 'oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-I-thought-that-was-cool' moment, and we've all been there. Puberty can a time of questionable stylistic choices and a deluded state of believed independence. I for one thought it would be a fabulous idea to cut off my butt-length brown tresses in favor of a bleach blonde pixie cut sometime in the middle of my sophomore year of high school. Of course it was a terrible idea, and I was left with five awkward years of grow out and dye jobs, and a really unfortunate driver's license until I turned 21.