ABOUT THE BOOK
Everyone dreams about the perfect life, but an obsession with perfection can be crippling. Cara Sykes is beautiful, rich, and destined for Stanford. She has the seemingly ideal circumstance; however, unreal parental expectations have already sent her twin brother, Conner, to a psychiatric hospital for attempted suicide, and Cara herself, confused over her sexual identity, is afraid to admit that she is not sexually drawn to her boyfriend, Sean, but rather to Danielle, a girl she meets snowboarding. Her admission will destroy the perfect image her parents have impressed upon her. Sean O’Connell, a baseball star resolute on earning a scholarship to Stanford to be near Cara, pumps iron and takes steroids to become the perfect hitting machine, but the steroids send him into a spiral of rage. Paralleling their relationship is the story of two sisters, Kendra and Jenna Mathieson. Kendra, Conner’s former girlfriend, will do anything to become a supermodel, including starving her 5'10" frame down to a size 2, having rhinoplasty and a breast augmentation, and having sex with older men in the modeling world who promise to take her to the top. Jenna, wounded by living in the shadows of her “perfect” sister, pops pills, drinks, and flaunts her sexuality. Andre Kane, Jenna’s rich boyfriend, does not escape perfectionism—his mother is a plastic surgeon who turns image dreams into reality, and he himself, interested in becoming a professional dancer, fears sharing his passion with his parents because they believe a perfect life includes a financially rewarding career. Driven by expectations, all five teens feel disempowered and fear not living up to expectations. In order to survive, they must find courage to stand up for who they really are.
PREREADING ACTIVITY
Is perfection a reality or an unattainable abstraction? Explain.
In what ways do today’s youth feel a need to be perfect?
Is the need for perfection self-imposed or is it caused by external forces? Why are some individuals more driven than others to be perfect? Explain.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
How does Cara view her parents? Describe her relationship with them. What happened to her brother, Conner?
Compare and contrast Kendra and Jenna. Are they close? Why or why not?
Why does Kendra’s mother impress the importance of pageants upon Kendra? What effect does the pressure have?
Jenna appears not to be driven by perfection. In fact, she seems to retaliate against her parents’ expectations, but she is self-destructive all the same. Explain.
Why does Jenna take Andre with her to have lunch with her father and his future wife? Why does she not feel good enough for Andre?
Sean begins as a likeable character, but as the story progresses he spins out of control. Why does he have difficulty accepting Cara’s sexuality?
Andre feels special affection for his grandparents. What did he learn about pursuing one’s dreams from his grandfather? How are his decisions affected by his relationship with his grandparents?
Kendra believes “Empty is the perfect state of being” What does she mean? What other characters in the story would agree with her? How might they define empty?
Sean lost his parents at an early age. How might this loss affect his fear of losing Cara? How might it impact his behavior?
Cara says, “Transformation begins—and ends—inside of you.” What accounts for this belief? What does it say about her ability to deal with her parents’ expectations of her?
When Sean learns that Cara is no longer interested in him, he does not want to stop his anger. He says he doesn’t want to stop it “because anger feels better than the pain of losing someone.” Do you agree or disagree? What accounts for Sean’s perspective?
In what way is Cara impacted by her brother’s death? Her parents? What does Sean learn from Conner’s death?
Shantell is a minor character in the story. In what way does she foil Jenna’s personality? What does Andre learn about relationships from Shantell?
One might say Andre finds release in dancing. Explain.
Which character has the most difficult challenges to overcome? Why? Who is the most likely to succeed and why?
Compare and contrast Andre’s mother and Cara’s mother. Which mother is more capable of understanding the damage she may have caused as well as her son’s or daughter’s feelings? Who is more likely to admit she has made parenting mistakes?
How can an emphasis on perfection make an individual believe he/she is not worthy or good enough?
Activities:
Identify passages for the main characters that illustrate their perspectives on and/or definition of love. Do their beliefs change throughout the story? What accounts for the way they define relationships? Write a short poem from the perspective of one character that illustrates his/her perspective on male/female relationships.
Individuals who have been driven to be perfect often say they are afraid of failure. Why might this fear exist? Is it rational? Interview a family member or another older person about how he/she set goals in high school. What goals did they achieve and what or who influenced the choices they made? What fears did they have? What would they change now if given the chance?
Hopkins’s work is rich in metaphor. Examine the metaphor that begins “Some people say love is fire.” What does this metaphor tell readers about the complexities of love? Find other examples of metaphor in the text and discuss their meaning. Try your hand at writing your own metaphor for perfection.
Research statistics on teens and plastic surgery or steroid use. What trends do you see? What dangers exist for young people who undergo plastic surgery or who use steroids?
Guide prepared by Pam B. Cole, Professor of English Education & Literacy, Kennesaw State University, Kennesaw, GA.
This guide has been provided by Simon & Schuster for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes.
Without Warning
Sometimes
your’re traveling
a highway, the only road
you’ve ever known,
and wham! A semi
comes from nowhere
and rolls right over you.
Sometimes
you don’t wake up.
But if you happen
to, you know things
will never be
the same.
Sometimes
that’s not
so bad.
Sometimes
lives intersect,
no rhyme, no reason,
except, perhaps,
for a passing semi.
Triad
Three
separate highways
intersect at a place
no reasonable person
would ever want to go.
Three
lives that would have
been cut short, if not
for hasty interventions
by loved ones. Or Fate.
Three
people, with nothing
at all in common
except age, proximity,
and a wish to die.
Three
tapestries, tattered
at the edges and come
unwoven to reveal
a single mutual thread.
The Thread
Wish
you could turn off
the questions, turn
off the voices,
turn off all sound.
Yearn
to close out
the ugliness, close
out the filthiness,
close out all light.
Long
to cast away
yesterday, cast
away memory,
cast away all jeopardy.
Pray
you could somehow stop
the uncertainty, somehow
stop the loathing,
somehow stop the pain.
Act
on your impulse,
swallow the bottle,
&
nbsp; cut a little deeper,
put the gun to your chest.
Conner
Arrival
The glass doors swing open,
in perfect sync, precisely
timed so you don’t have
to think. Just stroll right in.
I doubt it’s quite as easy
to turn around and walk
back outside, retreat to
unstable ground. Home turf.
An orderly escorts me down
spit-shined corridors, past
tinted Plexiglas and closed,
unmarked doors. Mysteries.
One foot in front of the other,
counting tiles on the floor so
I don’t have to focus the blur
of painted smiles, fake faces.
A mannequin in a tight blue
suit, with a too-short skirt
(and legs that can wear it),
in a Betty Boop voice halts us.
I’m Dr. Boston. Welcome to
Aspen Springs. I’ll give you
the tour. Paul, please take his
things to the Redwood Room.
Aspen Springs. Redwood Room.
As if this place were a five-star
resort, instead of a lockdown
where crazies pace. Waiting.
At Least
It doesn’t have a hospital
stink. Oh yes, it’s all very
clean, from cafeteria chairs
to the bathroom sink. Spotless.
But the clean comes minus
the gag-me smell, steeping
every inch of that antiseptic
hell where they excised
the damnable bullet. I
wonder what Dad said when
he heard I tried to put myself
six feet under—and failed.
I should have put the gun
to my head, worried less
about brain damage, more
about getting dead. Finis.
Instead, I decided a shot
through the heart would
make it stop beating, rip
it apart to bleed me out.
I couldn’t even do that
right. The bullet hit bone,
left my heart in one piece.
In hindsight, luck wasn’t
with me that day. Mom
found me too soon, or my
pitiful life might have ebbed
to the ground in arterial flow.
I thought she might die too,
at the sight of so much blood
and the thought of it staining
her white Armani blouse.
Conner, what have you done?
she said. Tell me this was just
an accident. She never heard
my reply, never shed a tear.
I Don’t Remember
Much after that, except
for speed. Ghostly red lights,
spinning faster and faster,
as I began to recede from
consciousness. Floating
through the ER doors,
frenzied motion. A needle’s
sting. But I do remember,
just before the black hole
swallowed me, seeing Mom’s
face. Her furious eyes
followed me down into sleep.
It’s a curious place, the
Land of Blood Loss and
Anesthesia, floating through it
like swimming in sand. Taxing.
After a while, you think you
should reach for the shimmering
surface. You can’t hold your
breath, and even if you could,
it’s dark and deep and bitter
cold, where nightmares and truth
collide, and you wonder if death
could unfold fear so real. Palpable.
So you grope your way up into
the light, to find you can’t
move, with your arms strapped
tight and overflowing tubes.
And everything hits you like
a train at full speed. Voices.
Strange faces. A witches’ stewpot
of smells. Pain. Most of all,
pain.
Tony
Just Saw
A new guy check in. Tall,
built, with a way fine face,
and acting too tough to tumble.
He’s a nutshell asking to crack.
Wonder if he’s ever let a guy
touch that pumped-up bod.
They gave him the Redwood
Room. It’s right across
from mine—the Pacific
Room. Pretty peaceful in
here most of the time, long
as my meds are on time.
Ha. Get it? Most of the time,
if my meds are on time. If you
don’t get it, you’ve never
been in a place like this,
never hung tough from one
call till the next.
Wasted. That’s the only way
to get by in this “treatment
center.” Nice name for a loony
bin. Everyone in here is crazy
one way or another. Everyone.
Even the so-called doctors.
Most of ’em are druggies.
Fucking loser meth freaks.
I mean, if you’re gonna
purposely lose your mind,
you want to get it back some
day. Don’t you? Okay, maybe not.
I Lost My Mind
A long time ago, but it
wasn’t exactly my idea.
Shit happens, as they say,
and my shit literally hit
the fan. But enough sappy
crap. We were talking drugs.
I won’t tell you I never tried
crystal, but it really wasn’t
my thing. I saw enough
people, all wound up, drop
over the edge, that I guess
I decided not to take that leap.
I always preferred creeping
into a giant, deep hole where
no bad feelings could follow.
At least till I had to come up
for air. I diddled with pot first, but
that tasty green weed couldn’t drag
me low enough. Which mostly
left downers, “borrowed” from
medicine cabinets and kitchen
cabinets and nightstands.
Wherever I could find them.
And once in a while—not often,
because it was pricey and tough
to score—once in a while, I
tumbled way low, took a ride
on the H train. Oh yeah,
that’s what I’m talking about.
A hot shot clear to hell.
I Wasn’t Worried
About getting hooked, though
I knew plenty of heroin addicts.
I didn’t do it enough, for one
thing. Anyway, I figured
I’d be graveyard rot before
my eighteenth birthday.
It hasn’t quite worked out
that way, though I’ve got
a few months to go. And
once I get out of here, I’ll
have a better shot at it. Maybe
next time I won’t try pills.
I mean, you’d think half a bottle
of Valium would do the trick.
Maybe it would have, but I had
to toss in a fifth of Jack Daniels.
Passed out, just as I would
have expected. What I didn’t
expect was waking up, head stuck
to the sidewalk, mired in puke.
Oh yeah, I heaved the whole
fucking mess. Better yet, guess
who happened by? You got it.
One of the city’s finest.
Poor cop di
dn’t know what
to do—clean me up, haul
me in, or puke himself. So
he did all three, only dispatch
said to take me to the ER.
Hospital first. Loony bin
later.
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