The book opens with Sydney and her high school boyfriend involved in a fatal car accident. The boyfriend had been drinking, and he was killed, along with people in the other car - a mom and her eight-year-old son. Sydney survives, but not without a few hidden scars, and when she goes off to college and is faced with the usual party atmopshere, she struggles with how to fit in.
A lot happens in this book: the first car accident, Sydney's crush on her roommate's boyfriend, her roommate's death from alcohol poisoning, her subsequent guilt-ridden relationship with the roommate's boyfriend, her dead roommate's bat-shit crazy sister, her best friend who reluctantly comes out of the closet and finds love, and a second shocking car accident.
And it's all those things that killed this book for me. One of those things would have been enough, and I could have dealt with two, but seven? It was too much. I lost interest because the story became too unbelievable. I felt like Rowe was trying to make a point with the alcohol storyline, but it just got lost in amongst all the other weirdness.
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