When a Journal Turns Into Blackmail

Maya Brooks

Welcome to the show -- and imagine this: somebody steals your private notebook, finds the page where you ranked your crushes and documented every unhinged little fear, and then starts dropping it on Instagram for your entire school. [short pause] Honestly? My spirit would detach from my body and float straight into the Monterey fog.

Maya Brooks

That is the deliciously awful setup of Joya Goffney's Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry, and yes, the title is accurate. This book had me giggling, wincing, clutching my chest -- all of it. At the center is Quinn, who keeps lists for basically EVERYTHING: the things she can't say out loud, the moments she cried so hard it got embarrassing, the people she'd maybe, possibly, absolutely kiss. It's not just a quirky habit. It's her coping mechanism. Her filing system for anxiety. Her way of controlling life without actually having to, you know... talk honestly to people. Which, relatable.

Maya Brooks

[warmly] And I love the way the lists work on the page because they're funny, but they're also revealing. Every list feels like Quinn trying to tuck herself into neat little categories so she doesn't have to risk the mess of being fully seen. If you've ever made a note in your phone that was way too honest and then immediately felt like the FBI should confiscate it -- yeah, same energy.

Maya Brooks

Then the nightmare kicks in. Her journal goes missing. An anonymous blackmailer has it. And instead of just sending one creepy little message, this person starts posting Quinn's private lists online for the school to see. [frustrated] RUDE. Diabolical. Peak teenage terror. The blackmail demand is even worse: Quinn has to complete seven dares tied to her biggest fears, or the whole journal gets dumped publicly.

Maya Brooks

That's such a smart engine for a story, because the stakes are both huge and painfully intimate. We're not talking about saving the world. We're talking about surviving high school when your inner life -- your crushes, your shame, your weirdness, your softness -- gets turned into public entertainment. And if you're thinking, well, can't she just ignore it? No, because the whole point is that Quinn has built her life around NOT being vulnerable. So every dare is basically an attack on the system she's been using to protect herself.

Maya Brooks

[reflective] I think that's why the premise lands so hard. The journal isn't just paper. It's the version of Quinn that she only trusts in private. The brutally honest version. The scared version. The version that doesn't perform confidence or politeness or perfect composure. So when someone weaponizes that, the book turns into more than a cute YA setup -- it becomes a story about what it costs to hide yourself so completely that your secrets can be used against you.

Maya Brooks

Also... can I just say, as a former notebook kid? If someone had gotten hold of my teenage journals, with all my dramatic declarations and absolutely tragic poetry-adjacent nonsense, I would've moved to a lighthouse and changed my name. [laughs] Quinn, babe, you're stronger than me already.

Maya Brooks

And then -- because Joya Goffney understands the assignment -- the person Quinn has to team up with is Carter Bennett. Carter is the last person known to have the journal, which is already messy. But it gets better, because he is also on Quinn's private list of boys she'd like to kiss. [trying not to laugh] I mean... the ROM-COM CHAOS of that? Immaculate. Suddenly every interaction comes with this extra layer of panic, because she needs his help, she doesn't fully trust him, and she very much does not want to think about the fact that one of her most embarrassing truths has a face and is standing right there.

Maya Brooks

Their chemistry is so fun. You get that forced-proximity, reluctant-partner energy where they're thrown together by circumstance, and the banter gets to do a lot of heavy lifting. It's flirty, it's tense, it's occasionally exasperated in that very specific way that means two people are paying WAY too much attention to each other. I was gonna say enemies-to-lovers, but not exactly -- more like irritation-to-oh-no-I-care-about-you. Which, honestly, is one of my favorite flavors.

Maya Brooks

Carter really works because he doesn't feel like some fantasy cardboard cutout. He isn't the brooding bad boy with a leather jacket and one meaningful eyebrow raise. [deadpan] Though the YA industrial complex does love that man. Carter's appeal is that he's supportive, observant, and decent. A genuinely good guy in a plot that could've made him way more stereotypical. That makes the romance sweeter, but it also raises the stakes, because Quinn can't just hide behind snark forever when she's dealing with someone who actually sees her.

Maya Brooks

But here's where the book earns its depth: the romance is not the only thing happening, and it's not even the sharpest thing. Quinn is one of the few Black students at a predominantly white private school, and Goffney threads that reality through the story with real care. The microaggressions matter. The isolation matters. The pressure to fit in, to smooth yourself out, to be agreeable and high-performing and non-threatening -- that matters. So when Quinn keeps her feelings locked down, it doesn't read as random teen indecision. It reads as survival. A learned strategy.

Maya Brooks

[skeptical] And I think that's important, because in a lesser book, you could look at Quinn and go, girl, just SAY what you feel. But the book understands that honesty is not equally safe for everyone. Self-protection doesn't come out of nowhere. It's shaped by environment. By school dynamics. By what happens when you're already standing out and absolutely do not want to hand people more ammunition.

Maya Brooks

That gives the blackmail plot real teeth. The dares aren't just cute confidence-building exercises. They're pushing Quinn against fears that connect to race, class, social performance, and belonging. So every romantic flutter is happening alongside this deeper question: what would it mean for Quinn to stop editing herself for other people's comfort?

Maya Brooks

And I was really moved by the friendship thread too, especially Quinn's growing bond with Olivia. Because this book doesn't let growth be purely internal. Quinn has to face the ways she's participated in mean-girl behavior, the ways she's kept distance, the ways fear can make you complicit. That friendship arc adds accountability, which I loved. It's not just, oh look, she's becoming brave and getting the boy. It's also, hey, bravery can look like repairing harm and showing up differently.

Maya Brooks

[softly] That's why this story feels bigger than a swoony high school romance, even though it absolutely delivers on the swoon. It's about confidence, yes, but not in that shallow movie-montage way where somebody changes their outfit and suddenly knows their worth. Quinn's confidence grows because she starts telling the truth -- first to herself, then to other people. Messily. Imperfectly. Sometimes with full-body panic. Which is, unfortunately, how real courage usually works.

Maya Brooks

My verdict? Five stars, easy. If you like your rom-coms with banter, longing, public humiliation as a plot device, and actual emotional substance underneath the sparkle, pick this up immediately. It reminded me that sometimes the scariest thing isn't being exposed -- it's realizing how much of your life you've spent hiding before anybody even asked you to. [pauses] Keep your journals safe, friends. Or better yet... write like the truth is still worth it.