Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Elizabeth Sutherland

Mrs. Sundermeyer

ENGL200A VRP

25 November 2022

Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Gripping her lunch tray, Livia looked around the vast bustling hive that was the cafeteria, hoping that she might be able to find a place to sit down. In her search, her eyes fell upon a group of girls her age, happily laughing together and engaging in conversation. Even from a distance, she could see them marveling over each other’s freshly done acrylic nails, and their almost weightless curls bouncing behind them at every move of their head. At the center of attention, she could tell, was the most popular – and arguably the prettiest – girl in the school, Andrea DeLuca.

Oh, how much Livia wished she could be just like her. She seemed to have a perfect life – okay, maybe not perfect, but pretty close to that. Perfect enough that she barely had to put any make-up on in order to be beautiful; perfect enough that all of the photos on her Instagram were  of her having fun excursions every other week with her enormous and equally beautiful friend group; perfect enough that she could afford luxuries like a Gucci belt and monthly salon visits for her hair and nails – and for all her friends too, of course. Oh, and she had straight A’s – it wouldn’t even be surprising, Livia thought, if she became the valedictorian of their class a few years from now.

“It’s hard to compete against someone who is just so effortlessly spectacular at everything,” Livia mumbled under her breath as she walked over to an empty table and sat down, slinging her heavy backpack off her shoulders. Out of it, she retrieved a book – Livia liked to read. In fact, reading was her only escape from the torments, trials, and pressures that the real world seemed to enjoy putting her through. It transported her to a world where she didn’t have to worry about comparing herself to everyone else or stress over what other people thought about her, because books were about other people – not Livia – and from her point of view, those people had actual flaws, compared to being the literal embodiment of Miss America. However, she only loved one book with such immense passion that she could read it over and over again and never get tired of it – and that book was the one that she had just pulled out of her backpack – Pride and Prejudice, written by Jane Austen. She had read it so many times that she was sure if prompted, she could probably recite the whole piece from start to finish – of course, if there was only enough time in a day to complete that exercise.

Despite this, Livia had never owned a brand-new copy of the literary work; she had always just borrowed the one that was at the library. It was the most convenient way to obtain it, anyway, even if its edges were a little worn and yellowed from use. But, considering that she checked out the book so much that she might as well have owned it, all that was going to change this afternoon – Livia was going to take a small detour on her way home from school and see if she could get her hands on a freshly printed edition of Pride and Prejudice.

“Miss Emmie’s cordial cottage,” Livia read aloud, pausing to take a good look at the slightly weathered, vintage-looking sign that hung outside of what she presumed to be a bookstore. This would do, she thought. The ringing of a little bell greeted her as she walked through the door of the establishment, and after examining her surroundings, she soon located the classical fiction section. It was a relatively small space to some of the other bookstores Livia had been to in the past, but it wasn’t cramped by any means. Poring over the part of the shelf with “A” author names, she found Pride and Prejudice with no trouble, and didn’t waste another minute before making her way towards the cash register to pay for it. Thankfully, there was no line. She placed the book on the table and before she had a chance to sift through her purse for cash, the elderly lady operating the checkout began to strike up a conversation with her.

“Good afternoon, darling!” Picking up the book, she remarked, “Oh, how much I like these old classics. You know, kids these days spend so much time on their little devices making videos of themselves that they don’t care too much for reading, but I’m happy to see that you aren’t that way,” she smiled kindly at Livia. Not really knowing what to say, Livia smiled and nodded back at the lady. Glancing around the room, she noted that the lady’s name tag said ‘Emmie’. So, that must be the owner of the store, she thought to herself.

“Alright, your total comes to $9.56, with tax,” Miss Emmie’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Thanks,” Livia said, scrounging up a ten-dollar bill and handing it to the lady. Miss Emmie took the money and deposited it into the cash register, before providing Livia with her change. Hurriedly stuffing the coins into her purse, Livia looked up to see a paper bag on the table, which she was sure enclosed her novel; the lady had retired to other tasks. Gratefully uttering something of a farewell, she grabbed the bag and departed the store.

After arriving home and having a delightful dinner with her family, Livia finally had the opportunity to peruse through Pride and Prejudice. Carrying the paper bag to her bedroom, she opened it and gently took out its contents. To her surprise, the book that she had bought wasn’t the only thing within the bag. At the bottom, hidden by the façade of the other book’s beautifully illustrated cover, was what appeared to be a brown, leather-bound journal. Oh no! The kind, elderly lady at the bookstore must have put it in there by mistake! However, when Livia analyzed the receipt, she found that the journal had been included in the total due amount; it read  FREE LEATHER JOURNAL BROWN -- $0.00. Livia was puzzled. She didn’t ask for Miss Emmie to put the journal in her bag, though she thought it was very kind for her to do so. She would go by the bookstore tomorrow after school and thank her for her generosity. For now, though, she was eager to start writing in the journal, though perhaps only a page or two…

After Livia was finished writing about the day’s key events, she closed the journal shut and smiled at the completion of the task. You know, today hadn’t been so bad after all – except for the jealousy that she had reserved towards Andrea DeLuca today; she felt guilty about that. Come to think of it, she wasn’t really mad or angry at Andrea herself; Andrea was a nice enough girl…in fact, Livia and her were friends once – though it was years ago, of course – probably when they were still in elementary school. Maybe Livia was just upset that the older they had grown, the more distant they had become, and the more Andrea’s life seemed to be like an unachievable fairy tale. Maybe she should journal about that! Excited, Livia grabbed her pen, opened the journal up again, and found…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not in the sense that she couldn’t think of what to put on the page – there was literally nothing on the page, the page that she had just written on moments earlier! Shocked, Livia reasoned that the paper was some kind of cheap paper that absorbed all writing – that had to be it. But what good was a journal that didn’t even let you write in it? Mildly frustrated, Livia closed the journal shut and resolved that she would try again tomorrow; perhaps she had just tried to write on a bad page. Besides, it would be more fun to read Pride and Prejudice than worry over all this unimportance.

So, Livia did try to write in the journal again, the first thing the following morning. However, this time she made a most peculiar observation upon opening the journal: for one thing, there was writing there; and for another, it wasn’t even her own! There was a noticeable difference in handwriting – had someone come in the night and written in it? Livia pondered this for a moment, even glancing nervously at the windows in her room, wondering if they had been unlocked without her knowledge. She soon put the thought to rest, though, considering that a person would not want to have left any trail of their existence had they broken in attempting to steal something. The whole thing made no sense. Despite this, she still wanted to read what the person had written on the page, out of pure curiosity…

“Hi, stranger. I’m glad to hear that you had a good day, but sadly, today wasn’t the best day for me. I felt insecure about myself, as always. I feel like I have to prove to all my friends that I’m worthy enough to hang out with them, or else they won’t like me. To add to that, my family doesn’t really care about me. They never come to see my dance performances or cheer me on at my debate tournaments, because they’re too busy shuttling my younger brother to and from football practice, and when they’re not doing that, they’re going to his games. I’m stressed out over school, because I’m not getting good grades like I used to, and that’ll just make my parents more disappointed in me than they already am. As if things couldn’t get any worse, my dog’s going to have to get put down soon; he’s old, sick, and can barely see anymore. The one person – well, I know he’s technically not a person, but still – who is always there for me and loves me no matter what is going to be gone. It makes me cry just thinking about it.”

Livia sat there for a minute, stunned. She was stunned for two reasons: 1. This whole journal situation in the first place; apparently, she was communicating with someone through her journal. When her writing had disappeared last night, it had probably appeared in the diary of the person whose writing had shown up in hers. Livia assumed that the other writer was a girl around her own age, as she knew not a lot of boys did dance, and she was obviously still living with her parents. Should she write back to her? Try to perhaps comfort her and tell her that she could relate to a lot of the things she was going through? Yes, Livia decided; she would. She flipped to the next page in the journal, and began to write:

“Hi! It’s so good to hear from you. To be honest, I often feel really insecure about myself, too. I don’t really have any friends at school, so at lunch I just sit at an empty table in the cafeteria, or I’ll eat in the library and read. I may be quieter compared to others, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t like talking to people. I wish I didn’t feel so invisible at school. I also admit that I can be rather envious of some of the girls at my school. They’re so pretty, and their lives seem so perfect compared to mine. Frankly, they probably don’t even know who I am. School itself has also been a huge struggle for me lately; my classes are so hard, and I’m scared that I’m going to fail my midterms. I’m really sorry to hear about your dog. I love dogs, and I’ve always wanted to have one, but I’m severely allergic to them. I’m sorry if this sounded awkward at all, too—I’m not the best at opening up to people about my emotions and stuff.”

Oh, how embarrassing, Livia thought to herself as she watched the writing fade off the page. She’ll probably think that I’m so weird that she won’t even bother to write back.

However, she did write back. In fact, she empathized with Livia and told her that she didn’t sound awkward at all; she said she understood that sometimes words can’t express what we really want to say – our inner thoughts and feelings -- in the most eloquent fashion. Livia was thrilled that someone actually wanted to take the time to talk to her, even if she didn’t know her in real life. So, from there, the two girls continued to communicate anonymously by these means, eagerly writing to each other about their successes, trials, and failures in their everyday lives. Whatever struggles Livia faced throughout the day, she could always look forward to the evening to share these with her friend, and her friend the same; Livia could tell that she also enjoyed their ardent conversations.

Speaking of friends, there eventually came a day where Livia finally summoned the courage to talk to Andrea. Why was this significant? It was significant because Livia hadn’t dared to speak to Andrea in over five years for fear of being met with outright rejection from her; after all, Andrea already had plenty of friends – to her, Livia knew that she was probably just an Elementary school playmate -- not one of the cool girls. The fact that their friendship was practically nonexistent almost hurt less without Andrea having explicitly said that she didn’t want to hang out with Livia anymore, so that was why Livia had refrained from speaking to her for all these years. However, those times were over. Livia reasoned that if she could form such a deep bond with someone who she had never even met, maybe she could mend the wounds that had received in the past. She seized her opportunity during lunchtime, after noticing that Andrea was leaving her friends at her table to use the restroom. Getting up from her own table, she followed her at a long distance, so that she didn’t look suspicious. Walking into the girls bathroom, she met Andrea re-applying makeup of some sort in front of one of the sinks. Swallowing hard, Livia walked up to Andrea, and before she knew it, a monologue that she had hastily prepared just minutes ago came tumbling from her mouth:

“Hi, Andrea. Look, I know I haven’t talked to you…in a long time. I—it’s not because I don’t like you or anything like that, I just sort of thought that, well, you didn’t want to hang out with me because you were popular and all that. I mean, you just have such great friends and such a great family, and you’re so gifted and talented that I thought that you wouldn’t want to be seen around with me. That’s why I’ve been so scared to talk to you—I didn’t know whether you still liked me or if you hated me and thought I was dumb or stupid or not cool enough, and I just—” She sniffed. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. “Well, I just wish that we could be friends again; that we could laugh over stuff and have fun with each other like we used to—” Andrea’s abrupt hug cut her off.

“It’s you. It—it was you all along!” Andrea breathed, starting to cry tears of joy.

“What—what are you talking about?” Livia answered, in a combination of being both pleasantly surprised by Andrea’s hug and on the other hand, entirely confused what Andrea was referring to.

“The journal—I must have gotten it on the same day as you, the old lady, she—” Andrea pulled away from the embrace, taking Livia’s hands into hers. “Somehow, she must have known that we needed to talk to each other.”

Suddenly, Livia understood. The person who she had been writing journal entries to was Andrea.

Andrea wiped a tear from her eye, and then smiled. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Livia smiled back. “I’m so sorry for being so jealous of you, I just thought—”

“No, I’m really sorry, Livia; I—I abandoned you when you needed me most. I wanted to fit in with those girls so much that I didn’t think about how I was ignoring you in the midst of it all. That was so selfish of me.”

“It’s alright. I’m just so relieved to know that you don’t hate me.” Livia hugged Andrea again.

“Me too.” Andrea warmly returned the hug.

A few minutes passed, and the two girls walked out the restroom laughing like they had heard the greatest joke of all time; when in reality it was just because Andrea’s mascara was running all over her face, and some of it had gotten on Livia’s as well. Andrea bid her table of so-called friends good-bye as she moved her stuff over to where Livia was sitting, and because it was just the two of them, there was actually room to sit without everyone bumping elbows with each other. “So, how are you?” Andrea asked.