Perfect - 02

by Ellen Hopkins

past denial, into the moment.

  It’s all up to me. Slide down

  the steeps, into belief. I am

  no more, no less than this ride.

  Midmorning

  The crowd is starting to build.

  Most people prefer the high-

  speed chairs, and those lines

  are long. Not sure why so few

  enjoy the old-fashioned slow

  lifts to the top, but I love these

  unrushed minutes. Suddenly

  the chair bumps to a stop.

  Problems below in the loading

  zone, no doubt. I look over

  at the racecourse run. The pines

  at its edges have grown. How long

  has it been since Conner and I

  raced there? Four years? Five? I was

  never fast enough to earn the medal

  I coveted. Conner often placed in

  the top three but never cared about

  winning. I’ve often wondered how

  twins could be so different. Why did

  the one with the talent lack the drive?

  The Lift Starts Up Again

  I survey the terrain beneath me,

  find a relatively unpopulated route

  down through the trees. Risky

  to ride there alone, but I doubt

  I’ll have a whole lot of trouble.

  Despite my parents’ lukewarm

  support, I’ve been skiing or boarding

  for years. I might not be as fast

  as Conner, but unlike him, I rarely

  take a fall. I disembark the chair,

  traverse the flats, brake to a stop

  beside a tall sugar pine, scan

  the landscape for the approximate

  path I saw. There. That’s it, I think.

  Swoop into the woods, slalom

  cedar and fir, each low branch a claw

  menacing my hair and face.

  I manage to avoid them all.

  What I don’t miss is the boulder

  tip, lurking out of view, just

  beneath the surface of the snow.

  It scrapes my board, catching

  it just enough to send me, face

  forward, into a deep, wide drift.

  I inhale snow. I swallow snow.

  When I open my eyes, I see white.

  I cartwheel my arms, but can’t get

  traction. I bite back panic. Think.

  For some weird reason, though

  I’m pretty much buried, I can

  breathe. What I can’t seem to do

  is get myself out. I’m such an idiot!

  I could die right now and who

  knows when they would find me?

  Silent here, in my tomb. Warm.

  I could sleep. That would be easy.…

  Suddenly I hear, Hang on.

  The snow around me loosens.

  I am yanked backward. My lungs

  grab air. My eyes find color. I’m free.

  My Rescuer

  Rolls me onto my back. Are you

  okay? Damn, girl, it’s a good

  thing I happened to come this

  way. You’re crazy to shoot trees

  solo. She looks down at me with

  black walnut eyes, and in them I

  find equal parts disgust, amusement,

  and awe. She offers her hand, pulls

  me up on my feet. “Thanks.”

  I should say more, but it hits

  me that this stranger might have

  saved my life. All repartee deserts

  me. She is close to my age. Tall.

  Exotic. I don’t know her, but

  I want to. Our eyes lock, and I feel

  something stir. Something restless.

  Disquieting. A rustle of leaves.

  A rattle of glass. A snarl, before

  the witch wind awakens,

  screeching, impossible to ignore.

  And this person is to blame.

  She smiles, and I like how warm

  that makes me feel. I am melting.

  Maybe we should buddy up?

  Why not? “S-sure.” The voice

  is throaty, not mine at all. Oh

  my God. What’s wrong with me?

  My face flares, dry-ice hot.

  She can’t help but notice. You

  sure you’re okay? You look…

  never mind. She lowers her goggles.

  I’m Danielle, by the way. Uh, Dani.

  “Cara.” God, could I manage

  multiword sentences, maybe?

  “And thanks again.” There.

  Three words. Blood whooshes

  in my ears and I barely hear

  her say, No problem. She turns,

  pushes off, and I follow her down

  through snow-draped trees.

  This Part Of The Hill

  Is steep. Unforgiving. A lot

  of work. But Dani surfs it like

  she was born on a board. To keep

  up, I have to forget about face-

  plants and possible outcomes.

  Finally we exit the trees, and our

  trail merges with a beginner run.

  Newbies and posers fan out across

  the gentle slope, some upright,

  some on their butts, some flat on

  their backs like sea lions sunning.

  Dani cuts through them. I follow.

  I hate crowds, and would call it

  quits, except… I’m not sure.

  I feel scared. Hopeful. Borderline

  sick, sort of like it’s my first day

  at a new school. I watch Dani

  hold a tight line down the side

  of the run. Confident. Lithe.

  Bold. Oh yes, I have to know her.

  It Isn’t Until

  We are both seated safely on

  the (slow—hurray!) chair that it hits

  me. “You said I was crazy to shoot

  trees solo. So what about you?”

  What about me, what? She scoots

  sideways, her knee touches mine.

  And for some crazy reason, I want

  her to kiss me. Wait. What?

  She hasn’t come on to me at all.

  Oh. She’s waiting for my answer.

  “Why did you take that way down?

  You were riding all by yourself.”

  She shrugs. Maybe I’m psychic.

  I saw you go that way. Figured

  I’d better keep an eye on you.

  Why are you alone, anyway?

  Keep an eye on me? How long was

  she watching me? My turn to shrug.

  “I asked my boyfriend to come,

  but he had baseball practice.”

  Oh. She makes a point of moving

  her knee away from mine. For

  some reason, I had a different idea

  about you. I thought you might be…

  I slide my leg back against hers.

  “I might be.” Then I admit, “But

  I’m not sure.” I don’t say that falling

  in love with a girl doesn’t fit

  well in my master plan. Love?

  What dark little recess of my brain

  did that word creep out of?

  This isn’t fire. It’s only a spark.

  Well, I definitely am. I’ve known

  since I was, like, five and wanted

  my Barbies to get married. To each

  other. My friends were disgusted.

  Her Laugh Is So Freaking Sexy

  Husky. Deep. And totally real.

  Somehow I doubt she’s fake

  about much. “What about

  your friends now?” But there’s

  no time for her to answer.

  The chair swings wide at

  the top of the hill. Together

  we stand, move to one side

  to discuss the best way down.

  Let’s ta
ke that long beginner run

  around the back of the mountain.

  A no-brainer will be fun. She doesn’t

  wait for me to say okay,

  so I trail her along a wide

  track, dodging snow-plowers.

  She seems to take a wrong

  turn into a thick stand of trees.

  But when she stops, I realize

  she came this way purposely.

  We are curtained by pines.

  When I draw even, she looks

  into my eyes, sending shivers up

  my spine. Have you ever kissed

  a girl? Her boldness is a surprise,

  but when I shake my head,

  her reaction is no more than

  I expected. And honestly, hoped

  for. Dani’s lips are soft, raspberry

  gloss sweet. The kiss is tentative,

  but only for those few moments

  that can never happen again.

  Desire is scratching at the door.

  Terrifying. Electrifying. But I have

  to know what it means. I inhale

  the perfume of the forest, of the girl.

  The two are intoxicating.

  Dani stops. Pulls back. So?

  The kiss was saturated with need.

  I feel light-headed. Hungered.

  The witch wind has been freed.

  Kendra

  Light

  That’s how I feel—

  like the winter-fringed

  breeze might scoop

  me up into its wings,

  fly

  away with me trapped

  in its feathered embrace.

  I am a snowflake.

  A wisp of eiderdown,

  liberated

  from gravity. My body

  is light. Ephemeral.

  My head is light.

  I want to sway

  beneath

  the weight of air,

  dizzy with thought.

  Light filters through

  my closed eyelids.

  The sun,

  chasing shadows,

  tells me I’m not

  afloat in dreams.

  Dreams

  Keep me in bed late this morning.

  Usually I’m up with the sun, but not

  when I’m slow dancing with Conner.

  Even in sleep, the familiar scent

  of his skin—clean and tinged with

  some deep woods perfume—fills

  the vacant place inside me, the one

  he emptied when he left me behind.

  But well beyond daybreak, he holds me

  so tightly I can barely draw breath.

  We move to the music, and his lips buzz

  against my ear. I love you. I want you.

  Then, as dreams often do, the scene

  shifts, fast-forward, and we are floating

  on a sea of soft summer grass, clothes

  strewn around us like wildflowers.

  Conner traces the outline of my body,

  fingers dipping lightly into the concave

  spaces between each rib. Perfect. He kisses

  the line of my jaw, down my neck,

  to the raised ridge of collarbone. His tongue

  slides across it. Mmm. Delicious. What else

  can I taste? He finds other places, each

  more intimate than the last, and I am beyond

  ready to let him take me all the way

  there. But just as I think we finally

  will, he sits up. Pulls far away. I don’t

  know what to say except, “Don’t stop.”

  I’m sorry, he answers. I can’t stay. And

  even though I can still feel his hand

  stroking the hill of my hip, he is gone.

  I wake, crying out for someone never there.

  I Don’t Feel Light Anymore

  I feel like someone has tied bricks

  to my arms and legs. Weighted by loss,

  I lie immobile for maybe twenty minutes,

  eyes closed, hoping I’ll fall back into

  the dream, find Conner has changed

  his mind. But I don’t sleep. Don’t dream.

  Across the room, I hear Jenna stir.

  She always sleeps late on weekends.

  If I’m still in bed, it usually means

  I’m sick. When she notices me, she gasps.

  But she doesn’t bother being quiet.

  What’s up with you? Got the flu?

  My head never leaves the pillow.

  “Don’t know.” What am I going

  to say? That I want to go searching

  for Conner? “Why do you care?”

  I don’t want to catch anything nasty.

  Keep your germs all to yourself.

  She goes to the closet, digs for a bit,

  emerges with one of my favorite

  sweaters—a cornflower angora. Hey.

  Can I wear this? Pretty please?

  Is she crazy? “Not even. Not

  the way you treat my clothes.”

  It doesn’t fit you anymore, anyway.

  She slips it on. See? Just right.

  I have to admit it looks great on her,

  accentuating each and every curve.

  I would probably swim in it. “Okay.”

  When was the last time I wore it?

  Jenna Goes To Shower

  And when she emerges from the bath-

  room, steam trailing her, there’s something

  about her that I can’t attribute to the sweater,

  or the makeup, or the way she has blow-dried

  her long white-gold hair. At last, I pull myself

  upright. “Um… got a big date or something?”

  Fact is, I’ve never seen her with a guy.

  Didn’t know she even had one on her radar.

  She smiles. Don’t know how “big”

  it is. But I guess you could call it

  a date. It’s just lunch and a movie.

  She doesn’t volunteer more, and

  I know she’s expecting me to want

  information. I definitely do. “With who?”

  Her grin widens. I met him at your

  plastic surgeon’s office. He’s her son.

  Her Son?

  Okay, wait. Process… process…

  “So, you mean…” She can’t be serious.

  He’s black? Yep. Definitely black.

  And really cute. And smart. And rich…

  Won’t mean a thing to our father, who’s a half

  step away from the KKK. “Uh, what about…?”

  Her face darkens, eclipsed by thoughts

  of Daddy. I don’t give a damn about Dad.

  “Well, you should. He didn’t walk out

  on Mom, you know.” We’ve had this

  argument before. Her answer will be

  the same as always. That doesn’t mean

  he needs to take it out on me… or you.

  We didn’t ask Mom to leave him.

  She’s totally right. Daddy pretty much

  pretends we don’t even exist anymore.

  We sometimes get cards on our birthdays,

  once in a while with Wal-Mart gift cards

  inside. Ditto Christmas. But he never asks

  to see us. I think we remind him too much

  of Mom. One thing’s for sure, though.

  If he finds out Jenna’s going out with

  a black guy, he will most definitely take

  an interest. “Okay, well, it’s all fine by me.

  Just remember guys are mostly only

  after one thing.” I sound like a mom.

  Her smile returns. Even when

  you’re dreaming about them?

  Oh my God. “What do you mean?”

  Now I really feel sick. Burning up.

  Jenna laughs. You talk in your sleep

  sometimes. And sometimes you moan.

 
I Throw My Pillow

  It misses her by a mile, and it comes

  to me that we haven’t shared a sister

  moment like this in quite a while.

  Not since we moved in with Patrick.

  I have to get ready to go now.

  Andre’s picking me up at eleven.

  Eleven? Holy crap. I slept away

  most of the morning. Not a good

  way to burn calories. I’ll have to

  work out an extra hour. I try not

  to look at the mirror as I make my

  way to the toilet for an overdue pee.

  When I come out of the bathroom,

  I glance out the window just in time

  to see Jenna scoot into a hot little

  Audi. Metallic blue. Nice car. I hope

  this Andre person is nice too. My sister

  pisses me off regularly, but I don’t want

  to see her get hurt. And a guy is the surest

  path to heartbreak that I know. I put on

  sweats, pull my hair back into a ponytail.

  If I’m going to work out for two hours,

  I have to eat something. Our kitchen

  is the devil’s den, the cupboards filled

  with carb-laden crap. The kind that

  goes straight to your thighs and belly.

  The fridge is a little better. I’ve become

  an expert label reader and calorie counter.

  One orange: thirty-five calories, eight grams

  carbs. Ten grapes: thirty calories, nine

  grams carbs. One tomato: nine calories,

  two grams carbs. I choose the tomato.

  One Tomato

  Two thin slices of Healthy Fare

  turkey, and two glasses of water

  later, I make a call. “Hello? Is Sean

  there?” Long pause while his little

  brother goes to look for him. Finally,

  Uh, no. He’s got baseball practice.

  “Oh. Well, this is Kendra. I was hoping