Nobody's Perfect

by Marlee Matlin

  “It’s the new girl at school,” said Megan. “Everybody wants to get to know her, but nobody gets the chance!”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lainee. “She’s in the same classroom, right? Just talk to her.”

  “I think she’s shy,” said Megan. “We asked her questions at recess, like ‘Where are you from?’ ‘What do you like?’ But she didn’t want to talk with us.”

  “What do you mean ‘she didn’t want to’?” repeated her mom.

  “She just walked away,” said Megan. And repeated it in sign. “She just walked away.” To make herself perfectly clear, Megan hopped off the kitchen stool, tossed her hair over her shoulder—exactly the way Alexis had done on the playground that afternoon—and walked to the other end of the kitchen.

  “Sounds like she’s just not that into you,” said Matt. “She doesn’t like you.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Megan said defensively.

  “You didn’t have to,” said Matt. “If somebody blows me off like that, I get the message. I can take a hint.”

  “Matt, you’re not being helpful,” said Lainee.

  “I’m trying to be helpful!” Matt protested.

  “Go wash your hands and get ready for supper,” said Lainee, shooing Matt from the room with the flick of a kitchen towel.

  “I’ll never understand girls,” Matt mumbled as he headed down the hall.

  “What did he say?” Megan signed.

  “He said he’ll never understand girls,” Lainee repeated.

  “I just don’t get it,” said Megan. “We were nice to the new girl. We were nice to Alexis. But she just walked away.”

  “Was she rude?” her mom asked, opening a drawer to grab silverware for supper.

  Megan shook her head. She couldn’t say Alexis was rude. But then again, she couldn’t say she wasn’t.

  “It was just weird,” said Megan. “Maybe Matt is right—she’s doesn’t like us.” She hesitated slightly before continuing. Then she added, “Besides, I don’t think she likes deaf people, anyway.”

  Lainee had been counting spoons but she stopped. “What makes you think she doesn’t like deaf people?” she asked.

  “Because she talked to the other girls, but she wouldn’t talk to me,” said Megan. “She wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”

  “Well. . . ,” Lainee began, counting forks and knives until she was ready to give Megan the advice she wanted. “I think. . . ,” her mom continued—reaching into the cupboard to search for a serving bowl big enough for the mashed potatoes.

  “What do you think?” Megan prompted.

  “I think you were right before,” said Lainee. “I think this new girl is shy.”

  “But why should she be shy?” asked Megan. “She’s practically perfect!”

  “Nobody is perfect,” said Lainee.

  “This girl is,” Megan insisted.

  “Who?” said Matt, returning to the kitchen to show off his clean hands. “The new girl who’s so smart and pretty and good with the ball?”

  “She doesn’t like me because I’m deaf,” said Megan.

  “Don’t say that,” said Lainee. “I don’t like it when you say that.”

  “But maybe it’s true,” said Megan.

  “Maybe she doesn’t like you because you’re a brat,” said Matt.

  “I am not a brat!” said Megan. She secretly suspected that she was a brat, but she would never admit it.

  “Nobody in this house is a brat and nobody is perfect!” her mother announced. She wiped her hands off on a dish towel and tossed it onto Megan’s head. “And there is absolutely no reason in the world why this new girl shouldn’t like you.”

  “But she doesn’t, Mom,” said Megan, raising her voice. “I can tell! I know when people like me and I know when people don’t. I know Matt likes me even though he teases me. And I know this girl doesn’t like me because she won’t look in my face. And it’s because I’m deaf.”

  There was a slightly uncomfortable pause in the kitchen. Matt broke the silence. “I’m out of here,” he said, heading for the dining room.

  “Set the table,” said Lainee, pointing at the silverware on the counter. Matt scooped up the forks, knives, and spoons and headed through the door.

  Lainee let another moment pass in the kitchen before she spoke. “Megan,” she said.

  Megan recognized the look on her mother’s face and the hand on her mother’s hip. Megan was about to get a lecture. She reached for the bag of tortilla chips so she’d have something to eat during the speech, but her mother swatted her hand aside.

  Lainee clasped Megan’s chin and turned her head forward so that Megan had no choice but to pay attention to what her mother was about to say.

  “Megan,” Lainee continued, “not everybody is going to like you and it’s not because you’re deaf. Not everybody likes me. Not everybody likes your father. People aren’t always compatible, and sometimes you meet new people and you don’t get along and not everybody becomes your friend.”

  “So, great,” said Megan. “Then I don’t have to invite the new girl to my party.”

  “Wrong,” said her mother. “Yes, you do.”

  “Mom!” Megan protested, slumping on her stool.

  “Maybe you got off on the wrong foot and made the wrong impression, Megan. You have to take a little responsibility for your own actions. She’s the new girl and you’ve got lots of friends. You’re in a position to cut her some slack and make a little effort. You don’t know whether this girl likes you or not. You only just met her today. You don’t even know whether you like her or not. You said yourself that she was shy.”

  Megan did think the girl was shy. She didn’t understand how a girl could seem so perfect and still be bashful, but Megan wasn’t going to deny what she had already told her mom.

  “This girl could be your new best friend,” said Lainee.

  “I don’t need a new best friend,” said Megan. “I have Cindy.”

  “A new friend, period,” said Lainee. “Everybody needs friends. You need to give people time. Give the new girl a chance. You already told me this girl was perfect.”

  “Practically perfect,” Megan said, correcting her mother. “She’s not the nicest person in the world.”

  “Maybe she is and you just don’t know it,” Lainee continued with conviction. “So your job is to find out. Invite her to your party.”

  Megan screwed up her lips, not so convinced.

  “You can’t not invite her,” Lainee insisted. “What was her name again?”

  “Her name is ‘the new girl,’ ” shouted Matt from the other room.

  Lainee knew that Megan hadn’t heard Matt’s joke. She stayed focused on her daughter for an answer.

  “Her name is Alexis Powell,” said Megan, taking the time to spell the name so that her mom got it right.

  “So after dinner,” said Lainee, “set aside enough time to do another birthday party invitation to give to Alexis Powell in the morning.” With that said, Megan’s mom pointed at Megan and the glassware and napkins—that was Megan’s cue to help set the table for supper. “Supper’s ready,” she said. “Let’s eat.”

  • • •

  David, Megan’s father, had to work late that night, so they left a plate in the refrigerator for him to heat up when he got home from the office.

  “What’s up?” he asked his daughter when he walked into the dining room with his dinner. The table had been cleared except for Megan’s homework and the materials for the birthday party invitation. Megan was bent over a piece of purple construction paper, carefully sprinkling glitter over a trail of glue.

  “One last invitation to my Positively Purple Party,” Megan explained to her dad.

  “Who did you forget?” David asked, stabbing his fork into the pot roast.

  “I didn’t forget anybody. There was a new girl in school today, and Mom says I have to invite her so she doesn’t feel left out.”

  “Well, that stinks,” said Da
vid, before popping a chunk of carrot into his mouth. “You don’t even know this girl, and you have to invite her to your party?”

  Megan cocked her head at her father as though she couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “Dad,” she said, just a little peevish, “she’s the new girl. How would you feel if you were the new girl and nobody invited you to the party?”

  “Well, first I’d be surprised to be ‘the new girl,’ ” he said. Her father shifted his weight and posed like a cowboy in an old Western movie. “And then I’d be happy to get the invitation.”

  “Exactly,” said Megan, dotting the i in the purple-glitter “Alexis.”

  David reached across the table for the salt and leaned in for a closer look at the birthday party invitation. “Megan’s Positively Purple Party,” he read aloud.

  Megan smiled, and her dad smiled back.

  “I’m proud of you, pumpkin,” said David, running his fingers gently through her hair. “Inviting the new girl.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Megan, trying to focus on the glitter and the trail of glue. She thought about telling her dad what a huge drama it had been trying to decide whether to invite Alexis to her party or not, but then she decided against it. Her dad looked tired and seemed hungry. Megan simply let her dad eat.

  Megan tapped her finger in a small dab of glue and reached for the bag of purple feathers. Her dad was working on big forkfuls of broccoli and mashed potatoes. Megan gazed sweetly down the table and waited patiently to see how long it would take him to notice that she had glued a small purple feather to the very tip of her nose.

  • • •

  Megan barely managed to get to school on time the next morning, so there wasn’t a chance to hand Alexis her invitation before the first bell rang. She figured she’d hold on to it and surprise Alexis at recess. Even so, Megan couldn’t resist telling Cindy what she’d done.

  “I made an invitation for the new girl,” she signed to Cindy.

  “Good,” Cindy signed back.

  “I had to,” Megan signed.

  “Of course,” Cindy signed back.

  Megan smiled. She was feeling just a little proud of herself for doing the right thing. And wouldn’t Alexis be surprised when she presented the invitation?

  It was all Megan could do to concentrate on Jann’s hands as she translated Ms. Endee’s news about coming events in the school agenda that month. Jann punctuated her translation with wild gestures and big expressions, trying to match Ms. Endee’s enthusiasm.

  “The first rounds of the school spelling bee happen later in the week,” Ms. Endee announced.

  Megan glanced at Tony Rosenblum. Tony had misspelled “occasion” in the final rounds of last year’s spelling bee, and it was one of those embarrassing things that he didn’t like to be reminded about.

  “All the artists in class will want to get going now in order to be prepared for the school art show, set for the spring,” Ms. Endee continued. “Paintings, collages, watercolors, clay sculptures. Any and all artists are invited to participate!” She was reading from a green flyer that had been created by the school art teacher.

  Normally, Megan might have been excited about the art show but not when she was planning her own birthday party. Megan was busy enough with the decorations, refreshments, the cake—not to mention the gift bags.

  “And lastly,” Ms. Endee announced, “the school science fair is scheduled for the end of next week. I’ll be dividing the class into teams on Thursday so you can get started on those projects.”

  Megan and Cindy exchanged an excited glance.

  Ms. Endee used the science fair as an opportunity to teach the students how to collaborate and work together in teams. Megan and Cindy reached across the aisle to link pinky fingers, certain that Ms. Endee would set them to work together. They had already brainstormed a science experiment involving marigolds.

  • • •

  Megan and Cindy headed for recess as usual—although it took Megan a few moments to retrieve the birthday invitation from her backpack. The rest of the class had already hit the playground. By the time the girls reached the bottom of the stairs, Alexis had sought out a pickup soccer game with the fifth graders.

  Megan signaled Cindy that she was going to deliver Alexis’s invitation. Cindy nodded. She jerked her thumb toward the girls who were hanging out on the picnic tables so that Megan would know where to find her. Megan smiled and ran across the field with the birthday invitation for Alexis.

  “Alexis!” she called out. “Hold up a minute, Alexis!”

  Alexis turned around just as Megan caught up with her almost at the center of the field. Alexis turned to Megan with a blank expression on her face. “What?” she asked, with just the slightest trace of annoyance.

  “This is for you,” said Megan. The manila envelope in her hand contained the birthday invitation.

  “What is it?” asked Alexis.

  “Open it and see,” said Megan.

  Alexis opened the envelope and pulled out the purple birthday invitation. The glitter caught the mid-morning sunlight and the feathers danced in the breeze. Megan laughed.

  “It’s an invitation to my birthday party,” Megan announced as Alexis lifted the cover to read the information inside.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Alexis, without a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t go to this.”

  Megan noticed that Alexis was scrunching her nose the same way she had the day before. “What do you mean?” Megan asked.

  “Thanks a lot for the invitation, but I can’t go,” Alexis repeated. She was forcing the invitation and the envelope back into Megan’s hands.

  “But what’s the matter?” blurted Megan.

  “I think I’m busy,” said Alexis.

  “Oh,” Megan replied. “Right. Sure.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Alexis continued. “I just can’t go to your party.”

  “That’s okay,” said Megan, trying to make the situation less embarrassing.

  “Thanks all the same.”

  “Really,” said Megan, with a little edge, “it’s all right.” At this point she wanted Alexis to drop the subject of her party altogether.

  “Okay then,” said Alexis. She did the same flip-of-the-hair thing she had done the day before and turned to walk away.

  Megan was left in the middle of the soccer field holding the big purple invitation that Alexis had refused. Everyone could see that Alexis hadn’t accepted it. Megan was stuck clutching a big glittery, feathery purple invitation, with nowhere to hide!

  Megan tried to keep her head high as she walked off the field and back across the playground with the invitation tucked under her arm.

  Cindy hopped off the picnic table to intercept Megan. She had watched the whole scene, of course.

  “What’d she say?” asked Cindy as soon as Megan was within reach.

  “She said, ‘No,’ ” Megan replied bluntly.

  “What do you mean, ‘No’?” asked Cindy.

  “It means ‘No,’ ” said Megan. “What’s to explain? I invited her to my party, but she doesn’t want to come.”

  “Forget about her,” said Cindy.

  “Yeah,” Megan agreed. She really didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It was spoiling her enthusiasm for her own birthday party. She ditched the invitation in a garbage can to get rid of the unhappy evidence that she had invited Alexis to her party but Alexis refused.

  “You didn’t want to invite her in the first place,” said Cindy, “so it’s back to just us. The original girls. Just the way you wanted.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” said Megan. But she couldn’t help but feel hurt and confused by the whole thing.

  4

  A Second Chance

  “SATELLITE,” SAID CINDY.

  “Satellite,” Megan repeated. “S-a-t-e-l-l-i-t-e.” Megan clutched her hands under the dining room table and quickly spelled through the word with her hand, using the manual alphabet. “Satellite.” It looked something like this
:

  “Okaaaay,” said Cindy, referring to the list of prepared study-words for the class spelling bee. “Marooned.” She articulated the word with great emphasis because Megan was reading her lips to understand the word. Sign language didn’t necessarily have a specific sign for words like “marooned” or most of the words on the spelling bee list. Cindy could interpret the meaning of marooned by signing “left behind” or “left alone” if she was translating the word in the context of a sentence. But to communicate the word “marooned” by itself, Megan had to read her lips. If Cindy had spelled it out using the manual alphabet, she would have been giving Megan the whole answer.

  “Marooned,” Megan repeated. “M-a-r-o-o-n-e-d. Marooned.” She finished the letters with an edge of impatience.

  “These are too easy,” she protested. “Give me a tricky word.”

  Cindy was aware that Megan was under pressure, especially since the class spelling bee was scheduled for the next day. The winner from each classroom won a blue ribbon and went against the winners in the rest of the grade. Then the school winners from each grade went to compete against other schools in the county, then those winners went to compete against other schools in the state—and those winners went to the National Spelling Bee. At some point the blue ribbons turned into trophies and scholarships. “If you win the National Spelling Bee,” Ms. Endee had announced, “you can be proud for the rest of your life!” It was a very big deal.

  Cindy was also aware that Megan wanted to come home with a ribbon or maybe even a trophy even though she was only an average speller. Megan wasn’t anywhere near being the best speller in class. Still, she was determined to give the spelling bee her best shot.

  “Here you go,” said Cindy, referring to the list. “Cornucopia.”

  “Cornucopia?” Megan repeated. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “Yes, you do,” said Cindy. “Cornucopia.”

  “You’re making that word up,” said Megan. “That’s a nonsense word. That’s like ‘kabillion.’ That word doesn’t exist.”

  “Yes, it does,” Cindy insisted. “Cornucopia is that wicker thing, the ‘horn of plenty’ pilgrims used at Thanksgiving. Remember we studied colonial days at the beginning of the year? You fill it up with little pumpkins and stuff?”