Thi is just I little overview of the "Flipped" book. I will write more if you want me to. A lot of what is written is taken directly from the book. 

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I layed in bed, awake, while thinking about Bryce. He tried to kiss me at school today. Can you believe it? He tried to kiss me. I have been waiting for more than half of my life for that kiss. But for the last few weeks, I have learned to look beyond Bryce's beautiful blue eyes.

Did I let him kiss me?

No.

I almost did. After I realized that he had been throwing out my eggs for two years. Two years! And then I overheard Garret and Bryce talking about me. About my chickens and salmonella poisoning. Then I heard them talking about my Uncle David. My blood ran cold.

"A retard?" I heard Garret say "well, that explains a lot, doesn't it? You know. . . about Juli?"

Silence.

And the Bryce laughed and said "oh, right."

My heart crumbled to tiny pieces.

Some sense came to me.

I still don't understand why Bryce tried to kiss me. Why me?

So, after that incident at school, I biked myself home and locked myself in my room.

I was just so…confused

My mother knew I needed time to think, but Bryce wouldn't leave me alone. He kept calling on the phone and knocking on the door. He even snuck around the house and tapped on my window!

This afternoon, I was reading a book in the front room with the curatins drawn, hiding from him as I had all week, when I heard a noise in the yard. I peeked outside and there was Bryce , walking across my grass. Stomping all over my grass!

I huriedly ran to my father.

"Stop him!" I cried

"calm down, Julianna" he saud and eased me back inside. "I gave him permission."

"Permission! Permission to do what?" I flew back to the window. "He's digging a hole."

"That's right. I told him he could."

"But why?"

I think the boy has a very good idea, that's why."

"But—"

"It's not goin to kill your grass, Julianna. Just let him do what he's come to do."

"but what is it?"

"Watch. You'll figure it out."

Later, I realized what he was doing.

"A tree?" I whispered. "He's planting a tree?"

"I'd help him, but he says he has to do this himself."

"Is it a . . ." the words stuck in my throat.

We both knew the answer. It was a sycamore tree.

Bryce finished up and thn then went home. And I just sat there, not knowing what to do.

I got up and went near the window. I saw Bryce looking out his window every once in a while. A little while ago he put his hand up and waved. I couldn't help it- I gave a little wave back. So maybe I should go over there and thank him for the tree.

Maybe my mother's right. Maybe there is more to Bryce Loski than I know.

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