At least I think it was a man, he was so bundled up against the cold. It was a man sitting in a chair in front of a gravestone. As I rode past a cemetery a splash of brightness caught my eye. Cinnamon was hitching a ride in my pocket. So thatвЂ™s why this morning I was riding my bike in search of a new place to meditate. Not even Enchanted Hill, as I call it now, or to any particular time of day or night. Since the ideaand ideal-is to erase myself from wherever and whenever I am, I think I should not allow myself to become too attached to any one location, January 10 As I said last week, I wash my mind all over the place. I never did sing to you, Leo, not really. And with every note I sang to Alan Ferko I thought: Someday IвЂ™m going to sing to that boy with the terrified eyes.

But I felt your eyes on me the whole time, Leo. You quick looked away, and I breezed on by and didnвЂ™t stop until I found Alan Ferko and sang вЂњHappy BirthdayвЂќ to him. You knew I was going to sing to someone, and you were terrified it might be you. I think it wasnвЂ™t just the sight of me-long frontier dress, ukulele sticking out of my sunflower shoulder sack-it was something else too. Your eyesthatвЂ™s what almost stopped me in my tracks. Remember the first time I saw you? In the lunchroom? I was walking toward your table. Funny thing-I was so busy crying for everything else, I never cried for myself. If I stepped on a bug IвЂ™d burst into tears. As I headed for my bike, I knew I had found an enchanted place. I closed my eyes again and let the gold wash over me. It was setting over the treetops in the west. The next thing I noticed was a golden tinge beyond my eyelids. I closed my eyes and dissolved out of myself. I held my hands on my thighs, palms up to the world. Until then I had done my daily meditation in many different places in and around town, but never here. How can I explain it? Alone, on the top of that hill, in the middle of that вЂњemptyвЂќ field (Ha!-write this down, Leo: nothing is empty), I felt as if the universe radiated from me, as if I were standing on the X that marked the center of the cosmos. I walked to the center and just stood there. The frozen ground was cloddy and rock-hard.

The winter weeds were scraggly and matted down, like my hair in the morning. IвЂ™ve biked past this field a hundred times, but for some reason today I stopped. The field is on the other side of Route 113, which is where my street (Rapps Dam Road) dead-ends. It used to be a pick-your-own-strawberries patch, but now it grows only weeds and rocks. ItвЂ™s on a hillthe flat top of a hill shaped like an upside-down frying pan. ItвЂ™s a mile out of town, a one-minute bike ride from my house. No house in view except a little white stucco bungalow off to the right. The thing is, itвЂ™s been right in front of me ever since we moved here last year, but today is the first time I really saw it. And what better way to celebrate this New YearвЂ™s Day than to begin writing a letter to my once (and future?) boyfriend. If I were in charge of calendars, every day would be January 1. Ages 12-up.January 1 Dear Leo, I love beginnings. Readers should embrace Stargirl's originality and bigheartedness, and may be inspired to document their own emotional ups and downs in the Stargirl Journal, available the same month, which consists of blank lined pages with quotations from both novels. She also meets a boy with a mysterious past their brief romance and other events combine to lift Stargirl out of her doldrums, as she reconciles her feelings about Leo ('You be you and I'll be me, today and today and today, and let's trust the future to tomorrow'). There are some things they don't teach you in homeschool.') Stargirl spends most of her time with a talkative six-year-old, Dootsie, a grumpy girl named Alvina, and a handful of older locals with their own quirks and problems.

('You have your whole life ahead of you, and all you're doing is looking back. Her entries are peppered with poetry as well as little pep talks she writes to herself whenever her spirits are low. Having moved from Arizona to Pennsylvania, Stargirl records her thoughts, observations and emotions in near daily (unsent) missives to Leo, as she works to move beyond her sadness. In Newbery Medalist Spinelli's sequel to his 2000 novel Stargirl, readers join the eponymous heroine and find out how she is coping after being dumped by Leo Borlock.

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