Dork Diaries Used Books File

Under the printed chapter one, in that same purple pen, Mackenzie had written notes in the margins. Little critiques. Next to the part where Nikki spills spaghetti on her new jeans, Mackenzie had scribbled: “Clumsy much? Try better posture. - M.H.” Next to the part about Brandon, she’d written: “Boys are a distraction. Focus on your mirror.”

Zoey thought for a moment. “Well, you can’t give it back to her. That would be social suicide. But you also can’t keep it. That’s weird.”

I pulled it out reverently. Price: $1.25.

I almost dropped it. Mackenzie Hollister? As in, my arch-nemesis, the queen of mean, the CCP (Crusty Cookie Princess) of Westchester Country Day? The same Mackenzie who had once “accidentally” spilled orange soda on my art portfolio? dork diaries used books

My name is Nikki Maxwell, and I was on a mission.

Next to the scene where Nikki’s mom comforts her, Mackenzie had written: “My mom is always on a cruise. With her new husband. #whatever”

“What do I do with it?”

Then I saw the writing.

She read the notes. Her eyes got wide. “Nikki. This is… huge. This is like finding out Darth Vader knits sweaters for orphan kittens.”

I flipped the page. And gasped.

I stood there in the dusty aisle, holding a $1.25 book that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. This wasn’t just a used book. This was a confession. A diary inside a Dork Diaries .

Zoey nodded seriously. “The ‘no random annotations’ rule stands.”

And at the very end, on the last page, next to “The End,” she had written in faint pencil, as if she’d been trying to hide it even from herself: Under the printed chapter one, in that same

Zoey found me ten minutes later, holding a stack of books two feet high. “Nikki? You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost wearing a glitter beret.”

Best $1.25 I ever spent.