The Notebook Rating Novels & Stories

The cover was a plain, academic shade of navy—serious and subdued, the kind of thing Marken, with his fastidious nature, would’ve chosen for recording research or classified observations. But something didn’t sit right. Alexander’s brows furrowed. A flicker of suspicion darted across his eyes as he pulled out his phone and called Colton. “The missing notebook… Was it more feminine-looking? Something like a softer color?” Alexander asked, tapping the edge of the notebook against his palm. “Yeah. Light blue with floral trim, if I remember right. Why? Did you find it?” Colton responded. “No,” Alexander replied curtly and ended the call without another word.

“Then he paid me to disappear.” I sat very still. She cried without sound. And when she finished, she handed me an old notebook. “This is everything I wrote but never dared to say.” River’s POV Eliza brought the notebook to me the next day. It was small. Brown leather. A ribbon bookmark sticking out from the middle. Inside were twenty pages of handwritten entries. Descriptions. Dates. Feelings. Some pages were barely legible, smeared from water or tears. I’m scared. He said I owed him.

She looked at me. Her words made me speechless. How can I answer her when I haven't found it yet? He was there. He didn't meet her. Is it because of the spat between us? Sometimes this little girl makes me feel speechless. "Well, Keep that tab. Don't know what kind of books you read!" I tried to get the tab from her hands but she pulled it back. "It's the notebook" She pouted. "It's Ipad" I corrected her. "No no, the book's name is The Notebook. Ryan Gosling is in the film. I like him"

she continues, pulling up the film. A collective groan and cheer ripple through the room at the same time. I huff a quiet laugh under my breath. “Seriously?” Tyler leans closer. “What? You don’t like it?” “I like it,” I whisper back. “But you’d think she’d have gone for a Jane Austen adaptation or something.” “Aw,” he murmurs. “Is the Notebook not good enough for you?” Snickering, I pinch his good arm. “Shut up.” “I bet you cried watching it the first time,” he whispers.