In the tradition of Go Ask Alice and Lucy in the Sky , this heart-wrenching story chronicles a girl’s fatal experience with testing her moral limits and the dangers of addiction. Bailey welcomes a fresh start at the prestigious boarding school, Prescott Academy, far away from the painful memories of her mother’s death and the unendurable happiness of her father and his new wife. She expects rigorous coursework and long hours of studying—what she doesn’t expect is to be inducted into the Science Club, a group of wealthy and intelligent students who run a business cooking up drugs in their spare time. Suddenly, Bailey has everything she’s ever wanted, including a sweet and handsome boyfriend named Warren, the brainy lead chemist in the Club. But as she wades deeper into the murky waters of their business, Bailey finds herself struggling to reconcile her new lifestyle with moral dilemmas she just can’t ignore. Can she have it all without breaking? A Simon & Schuster author. Breaking Bailey September 3 Dear Diary, Does anyone actually say that anymore? Maybe some fifth-grade girls. The type who have unicorn-and-rainbow diaries with easily picked locks and “I heart Billy” drawn on every page. This one doesn’t have unicorns, which is surprising since it’s from Dad. He probably thinks I still play with Barbies. It’s not that he doesn’t care about me. Just more like he doesn’t notice me anymore. He hasn’t since he started dating Isa. Truthfully, he hasn’t really noticed me since Mom died, but I can’t blame him for that. The past couple of years have been a giant blob of suck. At least Dad has Isa, though. I guess one of us should have someone. Isa. That stupid name makes me want to scream. I almost poked through the page with my pen writing it. Any normal person would shorten Isabelle to Belle, or even Isy, if they wanted to be cute. But Isa? EEEESUHHHH. God. Most Pretentious Nicknames for a thousand, Alex. But she’s the reason I’m here, at Prescott Academy, where graduation nearly guarantees you a spot in an Ivy League. And she’s the reason Bex gets to go to the Campbell School, which means she’ll get into Prescott, too, when she’s old enough. Dad can’t afford fancy private schools, but Isa the Bulldog Lawyer can. So I guess I can put up with a stepmother when I’m required to come home. Holidays already suck without Mom, and the same fake smile hides both grief and irritation. Bex hugged me so tight before they left. She’s scared to go to a new school, and she’s never been away from home before. She’s never been away from me. That’s going to be hard. As cool as it’s going to be on my own here, what am I gonna do without Bex’s hugs? Her nonstop chatter? Her— Sorry. My roommate showed up. Her name is Emily. She seems cool, and she didn’t bring anything annoying like wind chimes or beaded curtains, but she did bring chocolate. :) Off to the dining hall for dinner. September 4 Okay, so I think I’ll try to write in this thing every night before I go to sleep. I don’t know why. I’ve never really kept a diary before, but . . . I don’t know. I guess it’s nice that Dad got something for me. And it will be fun to document what it’s like to go to Prescott Academy. Maybe years from now, when I’m a famous chemist, I’ll use it for reference when I write my memoirs. But anyway . . . about that documentation. Here I go. . . . Today was just so weird. Prescott isn’t just a different school, it’s a different planet. I got to my first class, English, and sat at an empty desk. Everyone around me was talking because they all know one another, but it wasn’t like home. At home, if someone asked how your summer was, you’d say it was lame or talk about a summer job or something. These Prescott kids . . . It was all “Oh, Paris is just so lovely in the summertime!” and “Daddy’s new yacht couldn’t even fit at the dock in the Hamptons” and “I tried amazing caviar on solid gold plates!” Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t much better. These are the kinds of kids who clearly never had to wonder IF they’d ever get a car, just when. Oh, and also, since we all have to wear the same uniform, apparently the trend is to show off the only things that we can individualize: makeup, jewelry, and what brand of flats you wear. Seriously. I’m guessing my Payless fake leather won’t get me into the upper echelon at Prescott. I suppose I could ask Isa for better flats, but . . . honestly, I’d rather die than feel like I owe Isa anything. Thank God Emily and I had calculus and civics together, and we found each other at lunch so I didn’t have to eat by myself. She told me last night that she’s a scholarship student. That’s the only way her parents can afford this place. She begged me not to tell anyone, but she didn’t have to. I get it. I told her about my dad and Isa. I didn’t mention Mom. Emily wants to be a writer. Like movie scripts and stuff. She’s pretty quiet, but if you get her talking about movies, she could go f