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Perfect - 02

Page 17

by Ellen Hopkins

spill, there in

  the shadows,

  chokes your humanity.

  Threatens your soul.

  I Don’t Usually Think

  A whole lot about the color of my skin.

  Most of the time it’s not

  an issue at all. Sometimes, I think, it can

  be an advantage. Which is, of course,

  a brand of reverse racism.

  I mean, if you’re helping some school

  fulfill their diversity quota, you might

  actually get a boost

  up over a Caucasian male with the same

  GPA. If we didn’t live in one of Reno’s

  pricier neighborhoods,

  things would doubtless be different.

  But it’s hard to argue with millionaires,

  white, black, brown,

  yellow, or any shade in between.

  When you rub elbows with rich kids,

  no one’s especially

  worried about what might rub off.

  I Have Heard

  That in Deep South states like Alabama—hotbeds

  of racial unrest in

  the sixties—even today, they have segregated

  schools. Probably not officially sanctioned

  as such, but according to

  Jenna, on a trip to visit family down “theya,”

  her cousins made it clear that they attended

  the “white high school.”

  The one across town was “the colored school.”

  I was something close to stunned. “You can’t

  be serious! This is

  the twenty-first century, for cripes’ sake!”

  Visiting down there is definitely like

  stepping back in

  time. Not everything about that is

  bad, though. Communities are safe.

  Families are tight.

  People are polite, respectful.…

  “Except when it comes to people of color.

  Not to mention gay

  people. Muslims. Jews. God, Jenna.”

  She slid her little hand into mine.

  But that’s not me.

  Sometimes I’m not even sure how I can

  be related to them. I know my great-

  great grandpa moved

  down there during the Depression.

  Somehow, he found work, when other

  people couldn’t.

  The South was good to him, and he

  stayed a loyal Southerner. So did most

  of his family, including

  Dad. But someone had to break the cycle.

  I’m sort of a cycle breaker, in case you

  somehow haven’t

  noticed. And no one speaks for me.

  Just Like That

  Everything was great between us

  again. She has this way

  of making me forgive her instantly

  for any indiscretion, tiny or unimaginably

  gigantic. Good thing loving

  someone doesn’t require caring about

  their parents. Jenna’s mom just kind of

  ignores the fact that

  I’m still dating her daughter. She’s so hung

  up on Kendra and building her career that she

  barely notices Jenna anyway.

  Her father, I’m sure, hasn’t even come

  close to accepting us. Not that it matters.

  Jenna does as she pleases.

  I definitely do not desire a confrontation,

  however. In fact, I want to steer way beyond

  clear of Rudolph

  Mathieson. I kind of like being alive.

  I Especially Like

  Being alive when I’m dancing. It’s like

  the best part of me

  chassés out of the shadows, into the spotlight.

  I usually have lessons on Saturday morning.

  But Liana is taking

  tomorrow off to drive to San Francisco

  so she can spend Easter with her family.

  So I am ball-changing

  and pivot-stepping this afternoon instead.

  Liana is working me hard. Posture!

  Keep your shoulders

  back. That’s it! Beautiful, Andre.

  Okay, let’s practice some isolations now.

  Left rib cage. Right rib

  cage. Cooling me down after a couple

  of very hard routines. She is evil. Good evil.

  When we finish, every

  muscle, tendon, and joint in my body sings.

  I grab a towel, dry a little sweat, exit

  the studio. Outside the door,

  in the waiting room, is that cheerleader

  on the Galena team. The one who stalked

  off at the competition

  that day. What was her name? Shan… tell.

  Yeah, that’s it. Head bent toward her lap,

  where she is busily

  texting someone, she doesn’t notice me

  at first. I think about backing away,

  so she won’t know

  about what I do on my free afternoons.

  God, what if she tells everyone? Yeah, Andre,

  right. Like who? And

  there’s nowhere to back away to, anyway.

  So I Take The Direct Approach

  “Hello, Shantell.” Her head rolls up

  from her texting.

  It takes a few seconds for recognition.

  Then her eyes go wide with surprise,

  and her jaw drops

  practically to her neck. You… dance?

  “What? Did the leotard give it away?”

  I smile. “Yes, in fact, I do

  dance. You train with Liana too, I guess?”

  Since I was little. But I’ve never seen

  you here before.

  Her voice is acid. Sharp. Caustic.

  “I take private lessons. On Saturdays,

  usually.” At the word

  “private,” she starts to nod. “What?”

  Nothing. It just figures that you’d take

  private lessons. She

  looks away as some other girls arrive

  for their group lesson. “You don’t like

  me very much, that’s

  obvious. What I don’t get is why not.”

  She turns to face me. Points toward

  the mountain. I don’t

  live up there. She means in a mansion

  on the hill. And that pisses me off.

  “Do you want me

  to apologize because my parents worked

  their asses off to become successful?

  You could live up there

  if you want. All it takes is determination.”

  Baby, I’ve got plenty of that. Talent,

  too. I’ll get there on

  talent. Because I do not have connections.

  I’m Not Sure If That Means

  She likes me after all. Or if it means

  she has forgiven me

  for living up there. Or if it means one

  damn thing, or why I even care. “So are

  we friends now?” I smile

  my warmest smile, expect her to melt.

  She snorts. Yeah, right. Even if I thought

  I could maybe like you,

  I wouldn’t because you have crappy taste

  in girlfriends. I mean, Kendra’s cool and

  all, but her sister is just

  a regular bee-otch. What you see in her…

  She would doubtless say more, but

  Liana pokes her head

  through the door and calls the girls to class.

  I don’t need to explain my love for Jenna.

  So I say, “Whatever you think

  about Jenna—or me—I like you, Shantell.”

  As I Say It

  I realize I really do like her, despite her open

  contempt for me.

  Not that it matters. “Have a great weekend.”


  Yeah. You too. She tosses her head,

  haughty and pretty

  as some extravagant bird of prey.

  And I watch her walk away, all rich cocoa

  skin and sleek raven

  hair and a dancer’s well-muscled body.

  She is no Jenna, but she does have

  something special

  going on. Wait. Jenna. I forgot to call

  and let her know I’d be late. Bet she’s mad.

  I locate my cell, check

  for messages. Uh-huh. Damn. Three of them.

  Where are you? At least it’s a whine,

  not a roar. And why

  aren’t you picking up? Are you okay?

  That’s it. Play the guilt card. She’s great

  at that. But I should

  have called. So I do now. “Hey. Sorry

  I didn’t call sooner.…” She goes off

  on me about how

  worried she’s been. “I’m really sorry,

  sweetheart. I… uh…” What do I tell

  her? The truth? No way.

  “…got hung up, filling out college applications

  with my dad. He’s been pushing me to

  do them for weeks now.

  Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be right there.”

  Don’t think she’d want me sweaty.

  Then again, maybe

  she’d like it. I get in my car and drive

  home, wondering why I don’t feel like

  I can share my private

  dreams with the girl I’m so in love with.

  Cara

  Private Dreams

  Snare you. Swallow you.

  Make you feel

  like you’re all

  alone,

  like you don’t want

  to sleep and fall

  into them. What good are

  dreams

  if you can’t share

  them? How sad

  to think there

  are

  people who must

  move forward into

  some hollow future,

  empty

  of hope. Destined

  to travel an avenue

  potholed with broken

  promises.

  Spring Break

  Thank God. I need some time away

  from school. Away from friends who

  stopped being friends because of Sean.

  What’s up with that, anyway?

  But more, I need some time to spend

  getting to know Dani better. And, if

  I can find the courage, to let her get

  to know me. Looking back, it’s clear

  that I never opened all the way up

  to Sean. Not even when I thought

  I was in love with him. It’s genetic.

  I am more like my mother than I ever

  believed possible. In fact, I would

  have sworn we were nothing alike,

  that I have fought to be any person

  other than her. I failed miserably.

  I Haven’t Even Seen

  Dani in a couple of weeks. Not

  since before the whole Sean mess.

  It’s not like I’ve purposely tried

  to ignore her. Our schedules have

  kept us apart. We have talked on

  the phone, the sound of her voice

  solace. I tried to tell her about Sean.

  Couldn’t. Couldn’t tell anyone.

  All I want is to forget the ugly

  scene. But don’t think I ever can.

  So I’ll use it to make me stronger.

  Fuel myself with it, an energy drink.

  Because now that I know who

  I’m not, I can claim the person

  I really am. Take ownership of her.

  That’s my plan, and it’s starting

  with Dani. Tonight. We’re going

  to a party. “A Queer Spring Break

  Bash” is how it’s been billed. Booze.

  Beer. Drugs (?). And gay people.

  Going With Dani

  Means it will be my “coming out”

  party, so to speak. Good? Bad?

  Not sure. Am I ready to admit

  so publicly who I’ve only just

  decided I am? Answer, to come.

  Now, what to wear? Jeans, of course.

  Sweatshirt? (Sloppy.) Sweater?

  (Girly.) Will anyone care, including

  Dani? Girly is better than sloppy.

  I own a dozen sweaters, all folded

  in perfect colored squares on a closet

  shelf. Jade. Turquoise. Ruby. Bone.

  I choose the amethyst. It’s soft,

  warm, and clings to my body like oil

  on skin. Uggs? No. Black leather

  boots with tall spike heels. Overall,

  the look is dominatrix girly. Kind

  of cool, kind of weird. Which

  sums up how I feel right now.

  Half amazing. Half out of my mind.

  I Do My Best

  To make sure Dani will only

  see the amazing half. We meet

  at Summit Sierra. No need to

  chance parental third degree.

  I park at the far perimeter

  of the lot, anticipation nibbling.

  I feel like a kid, waiting for some

  indication of a sleigh on my rooftop.

  An aging Subaru pulls in next

  to my almost new Nissan. Behind

  the windshield, Dani smiles, waves

  me over. “Hey. So great to see you.

  Love your hair.” The dark quills

  are tipped with a striking blue.

  Hey yourself. And damn, girl.

  Do you know how hot you are?

  The reindeer have arrived.

  What I need now is for Santa

  to come slipping down my chimney.

  I try coy, not my best thing. “Me?”

  Come on. You look totally edible.

  She stretches across the console,

  brings her face close to mine. Can

  I have a little taste before we go?

  For one nanosecond, I see Sean,

  leaning over me. But Dani is not

  Sean, and I accept her kiss easily.

  It is hungry, but not demanding.

  Rather, it convinces me that this

  is, indeed, the place I am destined

  to be. She leaves me breathless.

  And freed of the weight of regret.

  I leave her searching for breath,

  too. Well, then. She inhales deeply.

  I think I’ll need another snack later.

  This should be an interesting night.

  I Have No Clue

  What she means. But I guess I’ll

  find out. The party is at a little house

  near the UNR campus. The narrow

  street is lined on both sides with

  cars. We have to park several blocks

  away, on a patch of dirt by the rail-

  road tracks. As I get out of the car,

  I catch my right heel, but manage

  to save both it and me. “That was

  close. Guess I should have worn

  the Uggs.” Dani slides an arm

  around my waist, and I press tight

  against her. No way, she says, no

  Uggs for you. You’re too freaking

  sexy in those boots. No worries.

  I’ll keep you upright. For now.

  We start down the time-gnawed

  sidewalk, linked hip to hip.

  In the shadows, we hit a slick

  strip of ice, but Dani is true

  to her word. Okay, those are definitely

  not great winter boots. Her grip

  around me tightens. In fact, I would

  rate them abysmal. And totally hot.

  They do make me taller than her,

  so the top of he
r head is nose level.

  Shampoo, gel, hair dye, or all three,

  the soft, fruity scent of her grows

  as we walk, and by the time we reach

  our destination, I must smell as if I

  belong to her. And I like it. How primal.

  Just as Dani starts to knock, the door

  opens. Laughter spills out, along

  with a quite inebriated girl. Careful

  of those Jell-O shots, she warns.

  They might get you all fucked up.

  And she definitely knows from

  experience. She stumbles toward

  a leafless hedge, hurls something

  thick and red. Dani and I go inside.

  I Expect Her to Let Go

  Of me. She doesn’t, at least not

  right away. Her hold is protective,

  possessive. The front room is packed

  tightly with people. We work our way

  through the human mesh, drawing

  more than a few direct stares. Can’t be

  because we’re together. I’ve never

  seen so many same-sex couples before.

  Not all in one place, laughing, downing

  drinks, making out in plain view.

  Other than the girl-girl, boy-boy thing,

  it’s like any party I’ve ever been to.

  I wish I could say I feel comfortable.

  I put my mouth against Dani’s ear.

  “What’s everyone looking at?”

  At first, I think she can’t hear me.

  She doesn’t answer immediately.

  Finally we push our way through

  the thick knot of people, into a semi-

  quiet corner. They’re looking at you.

  I know quite a few of these people.

  They’ve never seen me with you

  before, or with anyone remotely

  like you. We are a topic of interest.

  Sure enough, when I glance

  around, I see people checking us

  out. Evaluating. “What do you mean,

  not even remotely like me?”

  Dani waves to a girl across the room.

 

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