Perfect - 02

  Kendra

  Out

  One word.

  A single syllable.

  Three letters.

  Two vowels.

  One thin consonant.

  Weighted

  with meaning.

  Out.

  Exposed.

  All secrets revealed.

  Absolutely nothing

  left

  concealed.

  Out.

  Inside out.

  Terrified

  to

  show your face.

  Out.

  Chained to truth.

  Swim. Or

  drown.

  Blown Away

  By a series of text messages passed

  around through the ether today. Shocked.

  I’ve known Cara since grade school.

  Cheered with her. Performed with her.

  Sat elbow to elbow, shared locker room

  showers, did hair and makeup together.

  And I never, ever got the feeling that

  she was gay. When did she get that way?

  She doesn’t look like a dyke. Well,

  except in those pictures, which leave no

  room for guessing. No wonder Sean

  was mad at her. Furious is a better word,

  and he had a right to be. But wow.

  What an awful way to get revenge.

  Don’t think I’ll be going out with him

  anymore. Breaking up is at your own risk.

  Cara’s Reputation

  Is pretty much trashed. I mean, most

  people at school are fairly tolerant

  toward the GLBTQ crowd. But you

  don’t vote for them for class presidents

  or homecoming princesses. (Let alone

  crowning one of them queen.) Don’t ask

  me why not. It’s just not done. But

  even worse than knowing Cara is one,

  is seeing all the dirty details like that.

  If any one of us ever wondered what

  lesbians do, we’ve got the picture

  now. Literally. If I was her, I couldn’t

  show my face at school again. Oh my

  God. Maybe she’ll have to homeschool

  or something so she can graduate.

  And I bet she won’t be going to prom.

  Then Again, Neither Will I

  A couple of guys asked, but since

  I don’t even like either one of them,

  I’d feel, like, fake if I said okay. God.

  When did I get so … mature? Old.

  That’s how I feel. Tired. No energy,

  despite the pills Xavier keeps giving me.

  Maybe I should eat a little more. But

  I’m really not hungry. Food is still my enemy.

  Especially now, representing skinny

  teens everywhere. Especially now, when

  I have to keep Gilles happy. He likes

  the way I look. Especially naked. At first,

  I hated being with him. Hated how

  that made me feel about myself. But now

  it’s not so bad. Ten minutes, tops.

  Usually, more like five. Five minutes

  of feeling like a Fourth Street hooker,

  my body used and abused in more ways

  than I ever knew a body could be used,

  in exchange for everything I’ve ever

  wanted—a runway career. Designer

  clothes. And eventually, lots of money.

  Haven’t seen any money yet, and

  I haven’t walked a runway. But it’s coming.

  Gilles says so. Xavier keeps saying so

  too. And once my career takes off, I won’t

  ever have sick, disgusting sex with

  someone like Gilles again. For now,

  I’ll deal with it. Go hungry for it.

  Run miles and miles for it. Take pills

  that help me accomplish it. But I won’t

  go to prom. I’m not a kid anymore.

  Jenna, On The Other Hand

  Is going to prom. I’ve never seen her

  quite this excited at playing dress-up.

  God, I love my dress. Don’t you love

  my dress? Took me hours to find it,

  and I had to keep trying stuff on, and

  you know how much I hate shopping….

  “Slow down, girl, or you’re going

  to hyperventilate. Let me see how

  it looks on.” She changes into a short,

  strapless sapphire blue number, with

  a gathered bodice cut so low she just

  might come popping out. “Uh, wow.

  Yeah, that’s an amazing dress. It’s a little

  tight up top, but we could let it out some….”

  It could be a little longer, too, but I know

  she’ll fight me on that. One battle at a time.

  And anyway, I have to admit her legs

  look great, even if they are size nine/ten.

  “You did good. Andre will love you

  in this dress. How are you … what?

  I’m not going with Andre. He has

  some dance thing that night.

  Bobby Duvall is taking me. Andre

  doesn’t know. Don’t tell him, okay?

  She can’t be serious. “Bobby Duvall

  is a creep, Jenna. And what if Andre

  does find out? You don’t want

  to break up with him, do you?”

  Not really. But I don’t know if

  I want to be tied down, either.

  “But … he really loves you.”

  I would have done anything to make

  Conner love me like that. Anything.

  “You wouldn’t throw that away for

  someone like Bobby, would you?

  Real love shouldn’t be disposable.”

  I’m too young for real love. Anyway,

  of course it’s disposable. Look at Mom.

  She trashed twenty years of real love.

  Or maybe she was faking it all along.

  A gasp in the doorway jerks us

  both around. Mom is standing there,

  close to tears. Angry tears. How dare

  you talk about me like that! How dare

  you judge me! I loved your father more

  than anything on this earth, except you.

  Jenna shakes her head. Oh, really?

  Why did you leave him, then?

  Mom Draws Farther

  Into the room. She is trembling as she

  sits on my bed. Look. I tried to keep

  most of this from you because I didn’t

  want to damage your relationship

  with your father. The truth is, he was

  sleeping with Shiloh while we were

  still together. His drinking was out of

  hand, and things were sliding downhill

  before I ever met Patrick. You have

  to remember the fighting….

  I do. Yelling and screaming in

  the middle of the night. The muffled

  sound of Mom crying. “You should

  have told us. We thought … you …”

  I know. I should have. I wanted to

  protect you, but that was a mistake.

  Jenna looks ready to cry too. So I was

  right about this wedding. It’s bullshit.

  No, says Mom. It’s for the best. Your

  father hasn’t exactly quit drinking, but

  he’s doing better, because of Shiloh.

  Look. Do you know why I push you so

  hard to reach for your dreams? Because

  I don’t want you to ever have to rely on

  someone else to take care of you. I stayed

  with your dad long after it was clear that

  he didn’t love me anymore, mostly to keep

  a roof over our heads. Patrick was

  an unexpected gift. I married him righ
t

  away so I knew we’d be okay. Safe.

  Provided for. And loved. He does love us,

  even if it doesn’t always seem that way.

  I Have No Clue What To Say

  Neither, it seems, does Jenna. Mom

  saves us trying to figure it out. She gets

  up off the bed. Starts toward the door.

  Pauses. Turns, says to Jenna, You look

  beautiful, by the way. But your skirt

  is a little too short. She leaves us in

  stunned silence. Finally Jenna says,

  Unzip me, okay? She shimmies out of

  the dress. I have pills that would help

  her fit into it better, but don’t mention it.

  We are both quiet as she changes

  back into sweats, hangs the dress

  on a satin-covered hanger,

  carefully, as if it might fall to pieces.

  Fall To Pieces

  Like her. Like me. Like how we thought

  of our family, until just a minute ago.

  I break the silence. “The skirt is a little

  too short. Good thing you’ve got legs

  that can wear it. But I still think it’s

  wrong that you’re going with Bobby.”

  I’m only going with him so I can go.

  I know he’s kind of a creep. And I know

  it would hurt Andre if he found out.

  And I know he loves me. But I’m not

  good enough for him. I don’t get why

  he loves me, but even if I did, I wouldn’t

  let myself love him back because love

  is like summer. It only lasts so long.

  Only so long. Then it’s gone, fallen

  to pieces. Fallen like autumn leaves.

  Sean

  Pieces

  That’s all that’s left of

  my carefully created dreams.

  Shards. Slivers. Splinters,

  driven into what remains of

  my heart.

  What’s really bad is,

  it doesn’t hurt anymore.

  At least, when I was still

  in pain, I knew

  my brain

  was working. No one lived

  inside my head but me.

  But now I have a roommate

  in there, and I really

  don’t

  like the guy. He talks way

  too much. And the words

  that keep coming out

  of my mouth don’t

  belong to me.

  Growing Things

  Are trying very hard to make

  a spring appearance. It isspring

  now, though sometimes it’s hard

  to tell in northern Nevada. Still

  a lot of snow on the mountain.

  If I were playing pro ball, I’d

  be off in Arizona or Southern

  California or someplace really

  warm, working toward new

  goals. New records. New.

  As it is, I’m here, where it’s still

  relatively cool, playing regular

  season games, working toward

  the Nevada state championship

  at the end of the month. May.

  Championships. Prom. Senior

  week. And then, graduation.

  Not so excited about any of it

  anymore. My baseball record

  doesn’t really matter, unless you

  count mattering to my ego. Prom?

  Kendra turned me down, so I’m

  taking Aubree. Don’t have a clue

  why I’m going at all. It will only

  remind me that I should be there

  with Cara. My neck prickles.

  If I had hackles, they’d be

  rising. I’ve got to stop thinking

  about her, or risk blowing up

  again. Risk doing something

  stupid. Something mean.

  Something the bitch damn

  well deserved. Talk about

  revenge, baby. Brilliant move.

  She never saw it coming.

  You leave me alone, fucker.

  Chad says you’re not here,

  that you’re all in my head.

  But he’s never heard you

  blabbing at me. Go away.

  That Guy

  The one now living behind

  my eyes, keeps trying to tell

  me what to do, and it’s getting

  really annoying. I did what he

  said—posted those pics of

  Cara and her girlfriend. He said

  they’d go viral, and boy, did

  they! People clear across

  the country, and probably

  around the world, have had

  the chance to gawk at Cara’s

  pussy. I see her at school,

  and I’m pretty sure she

  knows. If looks could kill,

  I’d be skinned and left for

  the bone pickers. But she

  hasn’t said a word. Of course,

  what is there, really, to say?

  She can’t even prove that you’re

  the one who posted them.

  I Hope The Guy Behind My Eyes

  Doesn’t talk all the way through

  prom tonight. It’s late this year,

  rescheduled from an early April

  weekend with too much snow

  coming down. Duvall and I hired

  a limo (with a lot of help from

  his parents and Uncle Jeff).

  Might as well do it right.

  Aubree is wearing purple,

  so I got a lavender tux. Hope

  it doesn’t make me look gay.

  Gay. Hmm. Wonder if that

  bitch is coming with Blue Hair.

  Of course she’s coming with

  Blue Hair. Just not to prom.

  Shut up, asshole! Oh my

  God! Does she come? And

  just when did she know

  she wanted to come with

  girls? And was it my fault?

  Think I’d Better Lift

  A little before it’s time to “shit,

  shower, and shave,” as my dad

  used to say. Damn, I wish he

  was here. Remembering him

  opens a big sinkhole in me.

  Why does everyone important

  have to desert me? I’m almost

  to the basement door when

  the doorbell rings. I look out

  the peephole. It’s a uniform.

  “Aunt Mo,” I yell. “You’d better

  come here. It’s a cop.” I don’t

  wait for her to open the door.

  “Can I help you?” Aunt Mo’s

  footsteps approach quickly,

  and I’m glad she’s here when

  the big deputy says, I’m looking

  for Sean O’Connell. Is that you?

  My head sort of bobs, and he

  goes on. I need to ask you some

  questions. Do you want to

  let me in? He looks at Aunt

  Mo, who pulls the door the rest

  of the way open, allowing

  him to step through. Damn,

  the man is tall. He makes me

  feel like a dwarf. “Uh, did I,

  like, do something? Jaywalk?

  Run a red light? What?” Does

  he know about the steroids?

  Do you mind if I ask the

  questions? Do you know

  a girl named Cara Sykes?

  “Uh, yeah. We used to go out.”

  But now she’s a lesbian and …

  Oh, shit. This can’t be about that.

  And do you know anything

  about posting pornographic

  photos of her on the Internet?

  Before I Can Answer

  Aunt Mo puts the brakes on.

  Excuse me, but is Sean in some
/>
  sort of trouble? Sean, do you

  have any idea what Deputy …

  uh … Rossiter is talking about?

  The guy obviously knows

  something. Lying would

  be stupid. I’ll try avoidance.

  “I did see some pictures of

  her. They were pretty bad.”

  Rumor has it that you took

  them. Which would mean

  criminal trespass. And Ms.

  Sykes is alleging stalking.

  Does that sound accurate?

  Guy Behind My Eyes: Deny!

  “Well, no, I … not exactly.”

  GBME: That is not denial.

  “I wouldn’t call it stalking.”

  GBME: I think we’re in trouble.

  Being Eighteen

  Has a lot of advantages.

  You can vote. You can

  go where you want. Do

  what you want without

  a parent or guardian’s approval.

  One major disadvantage:

  If you’re arrested, you go

  straight to jail. Do not stop

  at juvenile hall. Do not take

  a parent or guardian with you.

  The good deputy reminded

  me that I have the right to

  an attorney and to keep

  my big mouth shut. GBME

  agreed. So did Aunt Mo.

  I’ll call Jeff and we’ll get

  you an attorney. Don’t worry.

  We’ll have you out of there

  before you know it.She didn’t

  even ask about the pictures.

  GBME: Ha! Maybe she’s

  already seen them.

  “No way. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  GBME: You never know.

  Deputy Rossiter: Who in the hell

  are you talking to back there?

  “No one. Sorry. Just processing.”

  GBME: Maybe Aunt Mo is a lezbo