Revised 1st Chapter of Mending Fences

Okay this is only the first revision, I'm going to do another run through. Please tell me what you think.

Chapter One
Preparation

There’s so much I want to do this weekend. I sure hope Kaylee can help me out. I can’t tell her what I’m doing though. She would try to stop me, I’m sure of it. Man, I hope she doesn’t have to work. Crap, I should have checked. Without her Mustang, I may not be able to do this, and I want to, I need to. Otherwise, things may just continue as they always have, stagnant, painful, still. A flash, a flicker of life, that’s all I’m hoping for. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.
I sit at my desk, pull a piece of paper out of the drawer, and begin to write. I write down the names of all the people I would like to see over the weekend, Jake’s mom, Juliana, Allie. I keep writing until the list is complete. Next, I jot down a few things I’ve never done that I’d like to try. It’s only a couple, and to some, I’m sure it would seem silly, but they’re important to me. If all goes as planned, we’ll be going to two places, one place I’ve never been, but always wanted to go, and one that holds a lot of memories for me. I want Kaylee to be there for both of them.
There are a couple of stupid things I’d like to do too, so, I write them down as well. Folding the list, I rise from my desk, and shove it into the pocket of my jacket, which hangs on my closet door. I look in the mirror; I’ve changed so much in the last year, physically, emotionally, mentally. I may be smaller in the flesh, but believe I have grown in the heart and in the mind.
I’ve come to a realization these last few months, the realization that life doesn’t wait. If we stand still it will pass us by, and by the time we understand that, it may be too late. The people I see this weekend, I hope they’ll open their own hearts and minds to what I’m trying to do, breathe it in, take hold of it and not let go. I hope they at least listen, if they don’t, that would kill me.
I grab a shoebox that’s been sitting in my closet. It held the new pair of green Converse high tops my mother bought me before the school year started. Those shoes are cool; I’m surprised my mom has such good taste, especially when she hasn’t worn anything other than Birkenstocks on her feet for at least five years. I wear the Converse every day. I want to get my use out of them before things run their course. I take off the lid off the shoebox and place it on my bed. I pack the box with books, CD’s, pictures, my poetry notebook, items that mean a lot to me. I won’t have everything I need to put in it until Sunday night, though. On Monday, I will take it to Kaylee’s for safekeeping.
It’s late, and I have a full day, maybe a full weekend ahead of me. I put the lid back on the shoebox, and place the box on the top shelf of my closet. Out of sight. There’s no need for my mom to find it. I know she wouldn’t understand.
I slide into my flannels, shut off the light, and climb into bed. Although my body is tired, my mind continues to work, to churn, anxious, nervous, plotting out dialogue, planning the weekend. Sleep comes with difficulty, but in the end, it comes nonetheless.