Chapter 7 - Max

Women... or girls as my mom calls them, why are they so bloody hard to understand?

Dear Maisie,

It's my birthday next month, so please try to be nice to me. I guess I need to ask you if you are doing OK today. You must look like the guy in the zombie movie who's been bitten but is trying to keep it quiet but failing terribly.

And it's good that your teacher lied to you; you might want to report it and see if anyone notices your complaint because that's not on.

I guess I should tell you now that it's okay to have the charisma of a wet sock; it suits you perfectly.

Max - I am not even doing a PS today because you insulted my last one, which was pathetic.

I have always been a bit of a troublemaker, but I never thought I would end up in a love-hate friendship with a girl named Maisie. I mean, what kind of name is that anyway? The love-hate friendship is my way of saying that I love to hate her, and I love to read her insults more.

If I'm going to be going down memory lane, it all started