Pushing Perfect

by Michelle Falkoff

  She slipped on a pair of shockingly high-heeled black shoes with bright red soles—I had no idea how she could walk in them—and twirled around. The skirt flared a bit, but not too much. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Hell yes,” I said.

  “Now you.” She kicked off the shoes and started going through the dresses again. “The height thing is going to be a problem. We might be better off with a skirt-shirt combo here—I’ve got some stretchy skirts that might do it.”

  “I’m putting myself in your hands,” I said.

  “I know! Isn’t it exciting?” She grabbed a black pencil skirt with a slit in the back and threw it at me. “Try this. It’s knee-length on me so it will be totally hot on you.”

  I didn’t really want Alex seeing my old underwear, but she was so busy digging through the clothes for a top that I figured she probably wouldn’t notice. I pulled off my jeans as fast as I could and put on the skirt. It was tight, but the material had some stretch so it fit okay, and she was right about the length—it hit me just below midthigh.

  Before I could even look in the mirror she’d tossed me a black camisole and a sheer silvery sweater. The camisole was Lycra, skintight and low-cut, and made it look like I actually had boobs, which was inaccurate, and the sweater was lightweight and kind of slinky and amazing.

  Alex looked me up and down. It reminded me of Isabel, but without the judgment. “Yup. Go look.”

  There was a full-length mirror hanging on the bathroom door. Alex had a good eye—the silver of the sweater made my gray eyes look almost silver too, an effect I could emphasize with good shadow, and the skirt made my legs seem super long. Except I was barefoot. “I didn’t bring the right shoes,” I said.

  “Not a problem. Go in the closet and pick something. We’re about the same size, aren’t we?”

  I wouldn’t have thought so, given the height difference, but she was right—if anything, her feet were a little bigger, so I rolled up some Kleenex in the toes of a pair of metallic platforms and practiced walking around. “You won’t let me fall over, right?”

  “I’ve got you,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. Your turn now—make me gorgeous.” She pointed to the train case.

  I’d never actually put makeup on another person before, but I figured it was just like putting it on myself, only mirrored. That turned out to be wrong—I knew how to keep my eyes still when putting on liner, for example, but with Alex I had to get more aggressive, using my thumb to hold her lid flat. I gave her a modified cat eye that emphasized the fabulous shape of her eyes. “Open,” I said, and checked my work, just like in calculus.

  Perfect.

  “Can I see?”

  “Not yet. Close again.”

  “You’re so bossy,” she said with admiration.

  White liner on the bottom to make her eyes pop, gold powder in the corners for emphasis, several layers of mascara for her almost-nonexistent lashes, and the finishing touch: red lip stain, covered with gloss.

  “All done?”

  “All done. Stand up.” I stepped back to look at the full picture.

  Nailed it. If I didn’t get into Harvard, maybe I could get a job at a MAC counter.

  “You’re smiling! Show me!”

  “Go look,” I said. “But in the full-length, with the shoes—it’s about the overall effect.”

  She put on her heels and tottered over to the mirror. For a second I thought she was going to be mad at me; she pursed her lips and turned her head from side to side, as if she wasn’t sure what to think. Then she twirled around again and held her hands out as her skirt flared. “Dude, you’re a genius.”

  “The Prospect will be powerless to resist you,” I said.

  “Eh, if not him then someone else.”

  I loved how casual she was about it—she was totally having fun. So different from the obsessive crushes Becca and I used to get, which, when I thought about it, weren’t really fun at all. “Let me do mine real quick.” I went back over to the train case, put on a whole lot more makeup than I usually did, and brushed out my hair.

  “You need to show off your face more,” Alex said. “Here, let me try something. Sit down.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and she sat behind me, her hands moving through my hair and pulling at my scalp. I felt so exposed, my face open to the air; it reminded me of back when my hair was always in a ponytail or a bun, and I’d feel the breeze on my cheeks when I went outside. “Check it out,” she said.

  My turn to look. Alex gave me a hand mirror so I could see the back of my head in the full-length. She’d given me a fancy French braid, one that started on the right side of my head but then moved diagonally down my scalp until the tail of it sat on my left shoulder. It was loose and a little sexy and I loved it.

  But that meant we were both ready, which meant we would be leaving soon. My stomach churned, the headache started, and my pulse started to speed up. I’d been kidding myself that this would be okay. So many things could go wrong, things I couldn’t predict, things I couldn’t control.

  “What is it? You don’t like it?”

  “It’s great,” I said. “I just need to sit down for a minute.”

  “Oh, right,” she said. “It’s time.” She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a little baggie with a few mint-green pills in it. “Here’s the thing: it’s all going to be fine. I know you’re nervous, but think of it like a costume party. We’re just playing dress-up, and it’s all to help you with the test. It’s going to be okay.”

  “I guess,” I said, but my head was still hurting.

  “I promise,” she said, and handed me a pill. “You need water?”

  “No, I’m good.” Was I really going to do this? Had I thought about all the pros and cons, the things that could go wrong? Maybe I hadn’t covered all of them, but I’d thought about them a lot. I always did. And where had that gotten me?

  “Bottoms up,” she said, and swallowed hers.

  I had nothing to lose. Nothing I cared about, anyway. I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed mine too.

  8.

  The party was at the house of some guy whose dad was apparently employee number three at Twitter or something like that. Which meant they were loaded, even by Marbella standards. Usually when someone hit it that big, they moved to Atherton or Los Altos, but they’d decided to stay here, and had bought a bunch of land to build this ridiculous house, according to Alex. And “ridiculous” was definitely the right word. I’d never seen anything like it.

  I pulled my car into a circular brick-paved driveway that was already filling up. Lots of little red Priuses like mine, along with some BMWs and Audi convertibles. The driveway was big enough that at least twenty-five cars could fit in it. But it was dwarfed by the size of the house itself, which stretched around the driveway and beyond, almost like it was wrapping the brick circle in an embrace.

  Alex and I got out of the car and started the long walk toward the front door. She was surprisingly confident in those heels; I could see she’d had a lot of practice. “This is not what I expected,” I whispered.

  “No need to whisper,” she said. “We’re not at a museum.”

  Maybe it was the sculptures lining the edges of the driveway that had made me feel like we were. Each was a carving of an animal, but not real ones—I recognized a gryphon and some other mythological-looking things. A pegasus? They fit the theme; the house had a sort of Grecian feel to it, with white columns lining the front. And it was quiet outside, quieter than I’d expected, given that we were going to a high school house party.

  “Where’s the music?” I asked.

  “Just wait,” Alex said. “All will be revealed in time. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine so far,” I said. But that itself was noticeable—the nausea was gone, as was the headache and the racing pulse. I didn’t feel particularly good or anything like that; I just felt okay. Which, under the circumstances, was pretty terrific.

  We walked between two o
f the white columns to the front door, which was unlocked. It was like entering a movie set, only for a movie I could never have imagined. The foyer was an expanse of white and silver: white walls with silver-framed paintings, white marble floors swirled with sparkling silver, an enormous white curved staircase with silver railings. It was huge, and it was empty.

  “Are we in the right place?”

  Alex nodded and led me through the foyer, past a statue of Pan, then off to the right, through a green dining room with a table that could have seated at least twenty people, decorated in green and gold. It was a warm contrast to the cool of the foyer, but I still didn’t see anyone, though apparently people were treating it like a coatroom—there were purses and scarves and jackets everywhere.

  “This way.” Alex had clearly been here before; her heels clicked on the hardwood floor of the dining room, softening only when she reached a library, walls covered in books, floor covered in the biggest and most beautiful Persian rug I’d ever seen. In the back of the room was a glass door that led outside.

  That’s where everyone was.

  The backyard was an expanse of perfectly manicured lawn, covered only in part by a stone patio where a string trio was playing. Waiters in tuxedos carried glasses of champagne and trays of canapés around to girls in sparkly cocktail dresses and guys in suits. I didn’t immediately recognize anyone because they all looked so different from how they did at school, but after a while my brain started making the necessary connections. I saw a girl from my AP English class picking over hors d’oeuvres, a guy from the water polo team joking around with one of the girls who played lacrosse. The information settled in with almost a palpable click, and it was satisfying to put the pieces together. It was the same feeling I got when I checked my work in calculus, or when I figured out the clue in a logic puzzle that opened up the whole thing. It was one of my favorite feelings in the world.

  A middle-aged waiter came by and offered us champagne. Alex took a glass like she was used to people bringing her drinks at fancy parties, but I wasn’t so sure that mixing booze and Novalert was a good idea, at least not for my first time. “Do you have anything nonalcoholic?” I asked, feeling my face get hot. The waiter gave me a silent nod and walked off, returning faster than I could have imagined with what looked like champagne again. Was I mistaking him for another waiter? “But I—”

  “Ginger ale,” he said, smiling. “I know how much you kids hate to stand out in a crowd.”

  I thanked him and took a sip, grateful that he understood this party better than I did. “This is so weird,” I said to Alex, who’d already finished her drink and had snagged another. “But I think the Novalert kicked in.”

  “Yeah? What do you think?”

  “So far so good,” I said.

  “Well, then, it’s time to get in there.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the patio onto the grass, where most of the kids were hanging out in small groups, talking. She stopped by a group of three guys who were standing near a statue of what appeared to be a Greek god. What was with this house and all the statues, anyway? I recognized two of the three guys—neither was in my classes, so I wasn’t sure where I’d seen them before—but the third looked totally unfamiliar to me. The first thing I noticed about him was his eyes, which were super dark, almost black, the same color as his hair. The second thing I noticed was that I had to look up to see them, which was surprising given how high my shoes were. The third thing I noticed was that he was hot. I hadn’t thought that about anyone for a really long time.

  “You made it!” the cute guy said, and gave Alex a hug. My heart sank a little. He was probably the Prospect. “And you brought a friend, I see. Nice.” He had an English accent, which was pretty much the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. Alex had good taste.

  “Hey, Raj, this is Kara, who I was telling you about.” She gave me a look, and I wondered what she’d been saying. “Kara, this is Raj, and Justin and Bryan.”

  Justin and Bryan were both cute—Justin was about my height, blond and wearing a very well-fitted shiny blue suit, and Bryan was short and dark and kind of uncomfortable in his suit, but in a charming way. Alex hung out with a good-looking crowd.

  “That dress . . . ,” Bryan said.

  “Too much?” Alex did her little twirl again.

  “Not at all,” Raj said. “Just the right amount, actually.”

  Alex didn’t react to Raj’s compliment, though; she was still waiting for Bryan. Perhaps I’d been wrong about who the Prospect was.

  “Just tell her she looks good,” Justin said. “It’s not that hard. I’ll show you.” He turned to Alex and gave a little bow. “You look ravishing tonight, my dear.” He held out a hand, and Alex spun into him as if they were dancing, and then he dipped her just a little. It was a cute bit—it kind of reminded me of Alex and her dad.

  “I feel like I should applaud,” Bryan said.

  “No need,” Alex said. “You can just go refill my drink.” She handed him her champagne glass and watched him walk off.

  “So you’ll be lavishing your charms on Bryan tonight, then?” Raj asked. “Poor fellow. He won’t know what hit him.”

  “I’m mostly here for Kara,” Alex said. “Consider this her social debut.”

  “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Kara,” Justin said. “Sorry to rush off, but I’d been planning to send Bryan to get me a drink before Alex so rudely coopted him for her own nefarious purposes.”

  Nefarious purposes? Who talked like that?

  “You’re leaving already?” Alex asked, but Justin was already gone. “He’s such a performer.”

  Performer . . . that’s why he looked familiar. He was one of the theater kids. Even though Isabel and I weren’t friends anymore, I never missed a show—she’d gotten the lead every time since we’d started high school, just like she wanted, and she was fabulous. I looked around and sure enough, there she was, telling a story to a fawning group of theater kids. Always the center of attention. It had been helpful when we were friends; Becca and I could go out with her and be shy if we wanted to, secure in the knowledge that eventually we’d be surrounded by people no matter what. And she liked playing that role, liked being the one to find out who was interesting and introduce us to them. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t really known how to make friends myself, once she and Becca were gone.

  I wasn’t going to let her presence here bother me, though. I was here to hang out with Alex, to test my ability to make it through a social situation without disaster striking. So far so good.

  “So, Kara,” Raj said. “How is it that we’ve never met? Where has Alex been hiding you?”

  “We just started hanging out,” I said. “I wasn’t hiding.”

  “Don’t be such a flirt, Raj,” Alex said. “We don’t want to scare her off.”

  “I’m not a rabbit,” I said. “I don’t get skittish at the sight of sudden movement.”

  Raj laughed. “So I should keep flirting, then? Will it do me any good?”

  “You’re pushing it,” Alex said. “Go make yourself useful and refill her—what are you drinking, anyway?”

  “Ginger ale,” I said.

  “A sensible choice,” Raj said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Alex turned to me. “Sorry, they can be kind of a lot, and Raj hits on anything that moves. But they’re my friends, so I really wanted you to meet them. How are you holding up? Are you having fun?”

  I was, actually, and I told her. I might have been a little disappointed that Raj was an equal-opportunity flirt, but it wasn’t like I was really into meeting guys anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal. Or so I told myself. The truth was that Raj was the first guy who’d sparked my attention in a long time, and that was kind of a scary thought. Was it just that he was the first cute guy to talk to me in forever? Maybe I just needed to meet more people in general. That’s probably what Alex would say.

  “Novalert still working?” she asked.

  “I think so. I’m definitely not freaking
out.”

  “Want it for the test? We can take care of it tonight if you’ve got money on you. It’s sometimes hard to get, so if you want it, I’d get it now.”

  “Might as well,” I said. I could always change my mind later. Better to get this part over with.

  “Excellent. I’ll make it happen. Look, the boys are on their way back. You okay if I leave you on your own for a bit? The Prospect awaits, and you seem to be doing all right so far.”

  “No problem.” This would be a good way to test how well the Novalert was doing. But I could fend for myself. I was sure of it. Which was totally not how I’d been feeling earlier—maybe that was the first sign that it was actually working.

  Bryan and Raj came back together, each holding two drinks. Alex took one from each of them and handed me the one she’d taken from Raj. “How do you know that’s the right one?” I asked.

  “Alex knows I don’t really drink,” Raj said.

  “I know lots of things about you,” Alex said. She reached up and pulled on his collar, bending him down so she could whisper in his ear.

  “Gotcha,” he said.

  Alex turned around and started walking around the other side of the house, giving Bryan a little nod that he seemed to understand meant “Follow me.” She was so good.

  “It appears Alex and Bryan have gone off to do some exploring,” Raj said. “How about I show you the rest of the party?” He touched my arm and guided me back to the house, chatting all the way. “I only moved here last year, so it actually makes sense we wouldn’t have met.”

  “Where did you move from? Your accent sounds British.”

  “Got it in one,” he said, as we crossed back through the foyer. I finally figured out the Pan statue—the half man, half beast linked the animal sculptures in front with the statues of gods and goddesses in the back. “I grew up in England, though my parents assure me I was born in India. We moved well before I was old enough to remember it.”