If there's anything good that can come out of this horrible situation - if I have to die - at least someday you can write about it and make us both famous.
At five years old, the only thing Chelsea had ever said to Lucy was 'I don't want to be your friend, freckle-face!' But then the girls learned a simple, magical thing: they had been born less than 24 hours apart only days before Christmas, at the same hospital. This moment of delight drew them together and fastened them like glue. At twelve they painted their faces and made their own commercials; at eighteen they threw the party that made high school history. At twenty-one their friendship was tested in a way they could never have imagined. By twenty-four, Chelsea had disappeared forever. Your early twenties are difficult to enough without illness and death thrown into the mix, but sometimes life happens before you've had time to make other plans. In this raw, honest and achingly passionate testament to female friendship, Lucy indulges in one last long, winding chat with the memory of her best friend, revisiting their shared memories and coming to grips with the future whilst navigating the deep, dark well of grief for the first time.
