Perfect - 02

  She is tiny. Cute, in a boyish way.

  That’s Bianca, my old girlfriend.

  See what I mean? Nothing like you.

  This is all such new ground.

  Every spark of self-confidence

  flickers. Did we have to run into

  her ex? “Were you in love with her?”

  I guess I thought so at the time.

  But love is a fragile thing. Easily

  broken. And what does it matter,

  anyway? I want to be with you now.

  She Proves It

  With a kiss. Awkward at first,

  because I rarely kiss with people

  watching me. Yet I can’t stop.

  I want this. Want her. Don’t care

  who knows. I thread myself

  into her arms, invite her tongue

  into my mouth. Oh God, it all

  feels so right, I don’t want to stop.

  I want to go further. Set no limits.

  Dive deeper. Explore unknown

  territory. Find secret places. Climb

  steeper cliffs. Higher and higher.

  My heart sunbursts in my chest

  and my eyes quiver open. Surely

  everyone is staring right now.

  But I find only one. “Bianca.”

  I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  Dani smiles. Don’t worry. Better

  she knows about us. Now how

  ’bout we find something to drink?

  I’m Not Much Of A Drinker

  In fact, I don’t drink at all. But

  I don’t need to say so. We start

  toward the breakfast bar, where

  a few people are filling their cups.

  Dani asks what I want. I shrug.

  “Surprise me.” She reaches for

  a tall bottle of rum, manages

  to pour some over ice, when

  a voice sharp as snipped tin

  slices into us from behind.

  Well, hello, Dani. I never knew

  you had a thing for femmes.

  Dani turns to face Bianca. Good

  to see you, Bee. You know I’m

  not much into stereotypes.

  Guess she is femme. Pretty, too.

  Wait. Stereotype? What? “Don’t

  talk about me like I’m not here,

  okay?” Anger flares, and as I start

  to walk away, Bianca mouths, Fake.

  Kendra

  Fake

  Is that what you are

  if you choose to improve

  the basic not perfect you?

  Add

  a cup size or two.

  Puff up your lips.

  Reshape your nose.

  Subtract

  an inch or two from

  your belly, butt, and thighs.

  Tighten your skin until

  what’s left

  behind is blotch free.

  Unlined. Then, quick,

  take a picture or two

  of you

  before it all falls apart

  again and you have

  to start over.

  Two Days

  Until my surgery. Can’t wait. Wish

  I had to wait much longer. I’m nervous.

  Excited. Looking forward to fixing

  something wrong with me. Why couldn’t

  I just be born with a perfect nose?

  One thing for sure. I can’t sit here all

  weekend thinking about Monday.

  It being the first day of spring break,

  there isn’t a lot going on to distract

  me. No lessons. No competitions. Nothing.

  And anyway, I’m afraid to do anything

  too physical. If I got hurt, I’d have to wait

  even longer for the rhinoplasty.

  But if I sit here at home, there will be

  a battle going on, with me at the center—

  fridge (which Mom just filled) vs. mirror.

  The Mirror Always Wins

  But I’m sick and tired of the war.

  Doesn’t help when Mom brings home

  ice cream sandwiches (“light” ones,

  but still…) and (reduced fat, whatever

  that actually means) peanut butter.

  Really, truly doesn’t help when Jenna pigs

  out with one or both right in front

  of me. She does it to be spiteful. Likes

  watching my mouth water. Which

  pisses me off, so then we fight, too.

  Not up for any of that today.

  There’s a new Scary Movie playing

  at the Summit. I want to go. But not

  alone. Jenna’s got something going on,

  and even if she didn’t, she’d want to

  yack down candy and fake butter popcorn.

  Aubree’s at her grandparents’,

  Shantell has been really weird and distant

  lately. And anyway, a movie date

  should be with a guy, except not someone

  who will put the moves on me.

  Someone like… I pick up the phone.

  “Sean? I was wondering if you had

  plans today. No? Well, I want to see

  Scary Movie 666.…” Silence

  on the other end. Then a stupid question.

  “Of course I’m not setting you up.

  Why would I want to do that? Look, no

  strings. I just don’t want to go by

  myself. Really? Awesome. There’s a two

  fifteen matinee. Do you want to meet

  in the lobby, say around two? Exceptional.”

  In A Way

  I’m surprised he said yes. Maybe

  he’s sick of moping around. It hasn’t been

  all that long, but Sean is used to

  having someone on his arm. Wow. We do

  have kind of a lot in common, don’t

  we? Chill, Kendra. Remember that you

  are good on your own. (Lonely.)

  Strong. (When people are looking.) In control.

  (Hungry. Even though my stomach

  has almost forgotten how it feels to hold

  food.) Size two. (Fat. Fat. Fat. Just ask

  the mirror. It doesn’t know how to lie.)

  Perfect. (Come on. Not surgery, not

  losing ten necessary pounds, not even

  implants can make me that. “Just about

  perfect” will have to be good enough.)

  Regardless

  I dress to impress, in a very short skirt

  plus leggings to keep my thighs thawed,

  and a too-tight sweater that defines

  my need for bigger boobs. I could maybe

  go baggy on top, keep ’em guessing.

  But that would make me look fat. Can’t

  have that. Better to go for skinny, with

  a boost from a well-padded push-up bra.

  I grab my jacket, start for the door,

  only for Patrick to whistle me to a stop.

  Wait up. Are you going out? (Well, duh.)

  Were you going to let anyone know?

  Obviously not. “Sorry. Just don’t want

  to be late. I’m headed out to a movie.”

  Alone? What time will you be home?

  It’s generally polite to ask first, you know.

  “Um, Patrick. Is something going

  on?” Not like he very often takes

  an interest in what I’m up to. “Because

  if everything’s okay, I really need to go.”

  He comes closer, studies my eyes

  as if he needs to find something there.

  Okay, look. I’m just going to ask.

  straight out. Have you been in our

  medicine cabinet? Your mother is

  missing some of her prescription pills.

  I could get snotty, but what good

  would that do? I won’t even mention

  that I know t
hey’re Xanax, and that

  he was the one who did the prescribing.

  “Not me,” I say, and that’s the whole

  truth. “If I were you, I’d talk to Jenna.”

  He Is Not The Type

  To confront, or want to play parent.

  Still, he has more to say, if he can

  just figure out how to say it. I will

  definitely be talking to your sister.

  I also think it’s time to call a family

  meeting. Things seem to be spinning

  out of control, in totally the wrong

  direction. Prescriptions disappearing,

  kids who take off without telling their

  parents where they’re going or when

  they’ll be back. And then, there’s you.

  He tries to stop himself, but

  he’s on a roll. Have you eaten anything

  today? I’m worried about you.…

  “Oh my God. Not you, too. I eat

  plenty! Worry about Jenna. I’m fine!”

  Anger sizzles at the base of my skull.

  I try for the front door, but Patrick

  stops me with a hand on my forearm.

  You haven’t answered my question.

  Have you had anything to eat today?

  I will do an intervention if I must.

  Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it. Lower

  the blood pressure before you speak.

  “I had some oatmeal.” It’s a flat-

  out lie, but he seems to believe it.

  Wants to believe it. Okay, then. But

  you really should have some protein.

  “I will.” Another lie. “And I promise

  to eat all my veggies, too. May I go now?”

  He smiles. I guess so. But I meant it about

  the family meeting. Over dinner. Tonight.

  I Say Fine

  And he lets me out the door. I hurry

  to my car before he changes his mind.

  My hands shake against the steering

  wheel, from lingering anger and also

  because Patrick happened to be

  right. I haven’t eaten anything today.

  I reach into the glove box. Grab

  a diet protein bar, take two bites. Three.

  Half the bar should satisfy my

  stomach growl and keep me thinking

  straight. I put the rest in my pocket

  to nosh on while everyone else is eating

  Skittles and sucking on Slurpees.

  By the time I reach the theater, the shakes

  have stopped too. I park. Buy a ticket.

  Go inside to wait for Sean, feeling great.

  Unbelievably

  In through the door walks Conner,

  surrounded by a group of people

  I’ve never seen before. He’s with

  a kind of cute guy, a rude-looking girl,

  a twentysomething woman, and one

  who is older than that, all dressed up in

  business-type clothes. They head

  straight for the bathrooms. Conner, who

  hasn’t seen me, waits outside the doors

  for the rest of them. My heart tumbles

  into my mostly empty stomach. I have

  to say something. Like what? That I hate

  him for what he did? That I still

  love him, and always will? Oh God.

  I go over, wanting to touch him, but

  afraid if I do he’ll disappear. And out of

  my mouth spills, “Hey, Conner.

  I heard you tried to die. That right?”

  Hello, Kendra. He turns on one heel

  to face me. Stiff as a fresh corpse—

  and why did I have to think that? Guess

  I did. Next time I’ll have to try harder.

  I can feel my face turn white.

  “Don’t say that! Believe it or not,

  a few people care about you.

  One or two of us even love you.”

  His eyes cloud with… disbelief?

  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

  “There’s Sean. Gotta go. Hope to see

  you again soon, Conner. Give me a call,

  if you want to. I’m a good listener.”

  I turn my back as he joins his friends.

  Sean

  Back Turned

  You

  don’t have to look at

  what you’ve left behind.

  And the person who first

  turned their back on you

  can’t

  watch you break down

  and cry. Never allow

  an enemy to

  see

  weakness in you.

  Go for the throat.

  Shoot for the groin.

  Don’t let your loss

  yesterday

  redefine who you are.

  Fight the good fight.

  Today is your day to win.

  Fighting Depression

  Is hard when you have no

  real reason to fight it. Why

  pretend everything is fine

  when everything pretty

  much sucks? Two weeks

  since the blowup with Cara,

  you’d think I’d accept it.

  Move on. But all I do when

  I’m alone is think about

  the good times with her.

  I’ve tried to talk to her. Tried

  to figure out exactly when

  everything went to hell. It

  wasn’t the night we had sex.

  It started before. I can see

  that now. But what started

  it? The more I try to figure

  that out, the more frustrated

  I become. I work out, to keep

  my frustration in check.

  But once I’m done, anger

  beaten down by reps upon

  reps, I am muscle sore

  and heart-emptied. I have

  no one to talk to about it.

  Okay, I did a fair amount

  of screaming on Facebook.

  Heat of the moment is all.

  What good did it do, except

  to make me feel validated

  for a little while? One thing

  I learned. Cara’s so-called

  friends aren’t really friends

  at all. The only one who

  had nothing awful to say

  about her was Kendra. Not

  that she exactly stood up

  for her, but at least she

  didn’t trash her. I’ve got

  to respect her for that.

  Her Call Surprised Me

  But, hey, I was just sitting

  here, alone in the vacuum

  that is my room. Getting

  out for a while sounds

  good. Anyway, Kendra

  is pretty cute, if a little on

  the skinny side. Going to

  the movies with her, no

  strings attached, might

  Band-Aid my injured ego.

  And maybe word will get

  back to Cara. Wouldn’t

  that be fun? She would

  be upset, wouldn’t she?

  ’Cause if I found out she’s

  been seeing some guy behind

  my back, I would have to take

  matters into my own hands.

  And it definitely wouldn’t be

  pretty for that guy. Or for her.

  I Get To The Theater

  A few minutes after two.

  Through the big glass

  doors, I can see Kendra,

  talking to some guy.…

  Holy shit. It’s Conner.

  By the time I get my ticket

  and go inside, he has hooked

  up with some strange people,

  including one majorly hot

  lady, who looks to be about

  thirty-five. Damn that Conner.


  Not only does he have a thing

  for older women, they seem

  to have a thing for him. At least,

  that one does. She takes his arm,

  leads him away. Whispers

  something into his ear that

  makes him laugh. But I have

  to say, he looks uncomfortable.

  Maybe because of Kendra.

  She wanders up, all weird and

  shaky. Hey. Thanks for coming.

  Guess you saw who I was

  talking to. He looks better,

  right? She sways a little, and

  I think I might have to catch

  her. “I suppose. But since

  he was, like, bleeding out

  when he went to the hospital,

  he’d almost have to look

  better. Come to think of it,

  though, he looked well

  enough to be back in school.

  Why isn’t he? And who were

  those people he was with?”

  I don’t know. She sighs. But

  I’m not sure which question

  she doesn’t have the answer

  to. The movie’s going to start.

  Do you want some popcorn?

  Does That Mean She’s Buying?

  I’m kind of afraid to joke

  with her, so I won’t ask.

  She’s sad, seeing Conner.

  I guess I understand.

  I would be sad, seeing Cara

  right now. Especially if

  she was having fun with

  other people. Unfamiliar

  people. Especially a new

  guy. God, I’ve got to stop

  beating myself up inside

  my head. And I don’t

  suppose I should mention

  the older woman thing.

  Conner wouldn’t be out