Perfect

by Natasha Friend

"Rough," said Georgie.

  Nola said, "I'm sorry, Isabelle. I wish you could come over and do homework with us."

  "Yeah," I said.

  It was Sunday afternoon, and we were all three talking on the phone -me from my bed, the two of them from Nola's house. I could picture them exactly. Nola would he sitting cross-legged on the green corduroy couch in her living room, twirling a piece of long brown hair with one hand and holding the phone with the other. Georgie would he lying belly down on the yellow rag rug in Nola's room, bushy eyebrows scrunched together tight, trying to talk and do her math homework at the same time.

  "Hey, where were you Friday night?" Georgie asked. "I called, but nobody answered."

  It's amazing how quickly a lie can pop out of your mouth when you need it to. "At the movies," I said. "With Mom and Ape Face."

  "What'd you see?" Nola asked.

  "Some stupid Disney thing. I slept through half of it."

  Its not that I think they'd he mad at me if I told them I spent the night at Ashley's. They just wouldn't get it. They'd want to know how it happened. How did we know each other, Ashley and me. Then, I'd have to A) lie some more or B) tell them about Group. And I didn't want to do either.

  It's weird. We used to he really close, Nola, Georgie, and me. Our parents called us the three amigas because we did everything together. We were always over at each other's houses, or going places with each other's families. After my dad died, though, it was different. Nobody knew how to act around me anymore, even my best friends. They said things like adults would say: I'm sorry about your father, Isabelle, and Maybe if you got out of bed and got dressed, you'd feel better. But what did they know? They still had their dads.

  Going over to their houses was even worse. Their moms would hug me so hard I couldn't breathe, or they'd just look at me with tears in their eyes. Isahelle, honey. It's so good to see you. How are you? How's your mom? Every time they did that I would think about my dad. And every time I thought about my dad all I would want to do is eat everything in sight, which you can't exactly do at somebody else's house.

  Pretty soon a person gets tired of saying I'm fine. We're fine. No, thanks, I'm not really hungry. So you stop going over to people's houses. Then, after a while, everyone stops asking how you are.

  Later, the phone rang again.

  My mother knocked on my door. "Isabelle? It's for you, honey. It's Ashley."

  It's Ashley!

  As soon as my mom was out of earshot I could talk. "Ohmygosh, Ashley," I said. "You won't believe what happened when I got home from your house."

  Before you knew it we were talking away on the phone. Isabelle Lee and Ashley Barnum, shooting the breeze. It was actually not as weird as you would think.

  "Anyway, my stomach is still killing me," I said. "Is yours?"

  "Listen, Isabelle," said Ashley. "You have to give your body time to adjust. To flush itself out. Plus, you really should alternate between throwing up and Ex-Lax, otherwise you could really mess up your system."

  "How come you know so much?" I asked.

  "I read a lot."

  "Oh," I said. "Well, thanks for the advice."

  "No problem," Ashley said.

  I was still in bed with the covers hulled up to my ears. I was curled up in a hall because when you've got the runs, that's the only position that works. Every time I tried to move, my stomach roared like Mount Vesuvius getting ready to erupt. I was pretty sure I'd have to stay in bed for the rest of my life, whereas Ashley got up at six a.m., did two hours of aerobics in her basement, took a bath, and finished all her homework.

  She might not he human.

  "So," Ashley said. "Do you think you'll make it to school tomorrow?"

  "I don't know yet. It depends how I feel in the morning."

  "Well, I hope you feel better."

  "Yeah," I said. "Me too."

  "Hey," said Ashley. "If you make it to school, maybe you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

  Maybe? Is she kidding me?

  "Sure," I said casually, like I get asked to sit at the center table every day. As soon as I said it though, I thought about Nola and Georgic. I pictured their faces when I went to sit with Ashley instead of them.

  "Well, I gotta get going, Isabelle," Ashley said. "See you tomorrow?"

  "'Kay," I said. "See you tomorrow."

  I hung up the phone and pulled my knees in tight to my chest, giving myself a little hug. Nola and Georgic had each other. I had Ashley.

  At around six o'clock I got out of bed and hobbled downstairs. In the kitchen, my mother and April were all co:ied up together at the table, studying for April's social studies test. The whole room smelled like tomato soup.

  I watched from the doorway.

  "Okay, April," my mother was saying. "I want you to name the original New England colonies."

  Ape Face was eating a grilled cheese cut into Liuar- ters. "Easy," she said, squeegeeing ketchup off her plate with one of the triangles. "Massachusetts. Rhode Island. Connecticut. New Hampshire."

  "Wonderful!"

  Normally I would get mad, seeing April suck up all Mom's attention. Tonight I was feeling pretty good, though. I was thinking about tomorrow, having lunch at Ashley's table.

  "Hi," I said from the doorway.

  "Isabelle!" Mom said. She came over and gave me a big hug. "Feeling better?"

  "A little," I said. I walked over to the table and sat down. I took a grilled cheese off a platter and poured myself some milk.

  April ignored me and began telling my mother how she was going to memorize the thirteen original colonies in the order they entered the Union.

  "First, I picture a CorningWare dish, right? CorningWare, for Delaware. Get it? Inside that, I imagine a hunch of chopped-up pencils, for Pennsylvania."

  She went on and on. A girl named Carol in a bikini for South Carolina. A ham for New Hampshire.

  "Clever!" said my mother. "Isn't that clever, Isabelle?"

  "Uh-huh," I said, swallowing a bite of grilled cheese. "That's pretty good, April."

  Ape Face looked up at me, suspicious. You could tell she thought I was being sarcastic. When she saw I meant it though, she looked really happy. "Thanks, Isabelle."

  "You're welcome," I said, and I even smiled at her a little. Because for the first time in a long time I was not thinking, Everything stinks. Well, maybe everything did still stink. But tomorrow could he an okay day.

  12

  AT LUNCH THE NEXT DAY I chickened out. I took one look at Ashley and her friends and lost my nerve.

  So I parked myself at one of the corner tables as usual, with Georgie, Nola, and Paula. I was in the middle of pulling my lunch out of its brown paper hag, a kidsize container of strawberry yogurt and two Fig Newtons, when I heard Ashley's voice. "Hey, Isabelle."

  I looked up and there she was, wearing a lavender shirt with silver sparkles all over it, and her big white smile. "Want to come sit at our table?"

  "Um," I said. I felt my cheeks gather into a smile so big I had to duck my head to hide it. I didn't want to make Nola and Georgie feel bad. I said to them, "You guys don't mind, do you.' JUSt for today?"

  Nola looked at me and shook her head the tiniest bit. "Do what you want, Isabelle."

  "It's a free country," Georgie nu►ttered, looking down at her tray.

  Paula said nothing. I knew the minute I walked away she would talk about me, but at that moment I didn't care. She was jealous and I was glad. Paula could say whatever she wanted.

  I busied myself with the complex task of putting my yogurt and Fig Newtons back in their hag. When I said goodbye to Nola and Georgie I tried to act like it was no big deal, me leaving them, but deep down I knew that it was.

  The center table. Me.

  When we got there Ashley swept her hand through the air, introducing everyone, as if I didn't already know all their names. "Isabelle, this is Maya, Arielle, Jessie, Hannah, Heather, T►lia, Sasha, and Eliza. Everyone, this is Isabelle."

  A co
uple of girls said, "Hi, Isabelle." The rest just stared at me.

  "Hi," I said, sounding like a five-year-old.

  Ashley pointed to an empty chair, so I sat down. Heather on one side, Talia on the other. In the middle of the table was a family-size bag of potato chips, one of pretzels, and a pile of Ding Dongs and Twinkies and individual Twizzlers wrapped in cellophane.

  "Have whatever, Isabelle," Ashley said, motioning to the pile. "We take turns bringing snacks."

  I sat quietly, eating my yogurt, one tiny lick at a time. I wanted so had to reach out for a Twinkie, and a handful of chips, but I didn't let myself. I knew that once I started I wouldn't he able to stop, and everyone would see me stuffing my face like a pig.

  I noticed that Ashley wasn't eating much either. Every few seconds she took a bite of the green apple on the table in front of her, but that was it.

  Everyone else dove right on in. There were hands everywhere-hands in bags, hands ripping open cellophane, hands in mouths.

  At one point, Ashley got up from the table to get a drink from the water fountain. Talia turned to me. Her long red hair, smoothed back in a green ribbon headband, brushed against my wrist. "Promise you won't get mad if I ask you a question?"

  "Okay," I said.

  "Are you new this year? I've never noticed you before."

  I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I mumbled, "I've lived here my whole life."

  "Oh," Talia said. "Sorry." She didn't sound one hit sorry.

  I kept on eating my yogurt, not saying anything while everyone else talked. Ashley came back to the table and sat down.

  "Get a load of Big Bri," Heather Jellerette said, gesturing with a potato chip across the cafeteria. "Check out the high-waters. Did he raid his father's closet or what? What a dork."

  We all turned to look. Over by the garbage can, unwrapping an ice-cream sandwich, was Brian King. His plaid pants were a little short, and tight too. His stomach rolled over the top of his belt.

  "What a dweeb," said Talia.

  "Dare me to go over there!" Heather said. "Tell him I like his pants!"

  Everyone at the table started laughing.

  I looked over at Ashley. She didn't look like she thought it was very funny, but she was laughing anyway, a fake laugh. Heeheeheeheehee.

  "Come on, Heather," Talia said. "I dare you."

  "Go, girl," said Maya, taking a dollar bill out of her pocket and laying it on the table. "Ice cream's on me if you walk over there and say, `Hey, Brian, I've been watching you across the caf, and I just wanted to tell you, you look really, really good in those pants."'

  Heather stood up, tossing her hair over her shoulder and giggling. "Okay, you guys."

  Everyone laughed and elbowed each other in the ribs. I just watched. I couldn't believe they thought this was funny. I couldn't believe even more that Ashley wasn't doing anything about it. She's always so nice to Brian in class, but when it comes to being nice to him in front of her friends, she doesn't have the guts.

  Within five seconds, Heather was by Brian's side at the garbage can; her hand was on the hack of his neck, and she was smiling. Heather leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Brian's face said that he believed her. He looked like a jack-o'-lantern, all lit up from inside.

  "Oh, man," Heather said when she came hack to the table, out of breath. "He totally bought it, you guys!" She stopped and looked around at everyone, eyes resting on nee-the only one at the table not laughing. I can't make myself laugh when I don't think something's funny.

  I looked at Ashley, watched her fake laugh some more. When Ashley saw me looking she looked away from my eyes, then down at the table, then up again at the rest of them.

  "Man," Heather said, slapping her hand against the table. "He said, `Th-th-thank you, Heather. I, I, I 1-like your pants too.' What a riot!"

  Heather grabbed the dollar bill lying on the top of the table and held it up in the air. "Free ice cream for me."

  Ashley looked at me again, then quickly looked away.

  I looked at her and thought, Nice friends.

  When I got home from school the house was quiet. Ape Face was at ballet, which she has every Monday and Wednesday. Most of the time my mother is sitting at the kitchen table grading papers, waiting for me. Other times she is in bed, at three thirty in the afternoon.

  I found out by going upstairs and standing outside her bedroom. "Mom?" 1 whispered. Then, louder, "Mom?"

  She didn't say anything, so I cracked the door open. The shades were drawn and she had the covers pulled up over her head. "Mom," I said. "What are you doing'"

  She stayed there in a lump, silent. At first I was scared, but then I saw the covers moving up and down so I knew she was breathing.

  I took a step closer to the bed. "Mom. Are you sick'"

  When she spoke she sounded far away, like she was at the bottom of a well. "I'm fine, Isabelle. Just a little tired, that's all."

  I wanted to pull the covers off her. I wanted to say, Why are you so tired? Huh? But I knew she wouldn't tell me the truth. Not in a million years would she say it: she can't sleep at night because she can't stop missing him.

  I thought about what April said yesterday, when I was the one in bed. You're not the only one, you know. I miss him too.

  "What about April?" I said. "Don't you have to pick her up?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Mom!" I spoke like she was ninety years old. "Don't ... you ... have ... to ... pick ... April ... up ... from ... ballet?"

  From underneath the covers she mumbled, "Carpool. Sara Winston's mom is ..." Her voice trailed off like she was too tired to finish the sentence.

  "Oh?" I said loudly, as if my old deaf mother was still participating in the conversation. "Sara ... Winston's ... mom ... will ... be ... picking . . . her . . . up? Okay! Great!"

  I felt so angry I wanted to shake her.

  Instead, I took $20.00 out of her purse. I rode my bike into town. At Pay `n' Save I bought $19.98 worth of Prin- gles, HoHos, and Diet Coke.

  To the checkout lady, I said, "I'm having a study party tonight. Me and some of my friends from school."

  I lined my items up on the conveyor belt. Five cans, four boxes, three bottles. "Thought we might need a little snack, you know? Brain power? There's gonna be four of us. Me, and my three friends."

  The checkout lady, wearing green eye shadow and a lot of cheap-looking bracelets, looked at me like I had three heads. "Uh-huh. Paper or plastic?"

  "Plastic, please."

  Behind the Shoe Barn, I alternated handfuls of potato chips and HoHos with swallows of Diet Coke. The hubbies burned my nose and made my eyes water, but I didn't stop. It always feels better coming up than going down. You just have to get yourself to that point and then everything takes care of itself.

  I slid my fingers inside my mouth and down my throat. I pushed and pushed until my knuckles reached the soft place in the back, the gaggy part. I held the plastic bag in both hands and watched everything come back up. Diet Coke, HoHos, chips.

  Afterward I tied the handles together so nothing would leak out. In the garbage can out front, I buried the bag under a shoe box. Chocolate Lorena, Site 6M.

  I got home about fifteen minutes before Ape Face did. When she came in the door I was in the kitchen making macaroni and cheese.

  "You're cooking?" she said.

  "Yeah." I poured more milk into the pot and stirred.

  Ape Face plopped her tote hag on the floor and walked over to the stove. She was still wearing her pink leotard and tights. "Mac and cheese?"

  "Yeah."

  "Yum." She leaned in to take a whiff. Then she said, "Where's Mom?"

  I gave the pot a couple more stirs before I answered. "Upstairs," I said. "In bed."

  "In bed?" said Ape Face. Her voice sounded small. "What's wrong with her?"

  "You know," I said. "She gets tired sometimes."

  Ape Face hoisted herself up onto the counter and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her ballet slippers had
black marks all over them. I wanted to tell her to get her dirty feet off the counter, but the look on her face stopped me. That, and how long her bangs were. She needed a haircut. Didn't my mother notice anything around here?

  "Isabelle? She's not sick, is she?"

  "Of course not," I said.

  "How do you know?"

  "I just do, that's all."

  "But what if she is?"

  "She's not! Okay? She's not sick. Trust me."

  "Okay." April leaned over and rested her top teeth against her kneecap, biting down. She looked like she might start crying any second.

  "Hey . . . ," I said. "Don't eat yourself. We've got a whole pot of mac and cheese here. Much tastier than your knee."

  Ape Face lifted her head. She tried to smile a little.

  "Come on," I said. I held out my hand to help her down from the counter. "We can watch TV while we eat."

  13

  ON WEDNESDAY TRISH handed out magazines. Seventeen, YM, Self, Glamour, Elle. She told us to take a few minutes to flip through them.

  Ashley and I sat next to each other on the couch, sharing a Seventeen. Rachel didn't show up, so everyone was shifted.

  "Look at this girl," Ashley said, pointing to the model on the cover. "She's perfect."

  "I know," I said. "Her boobs are two perfect spheres."

  "Double bubble," said Ashley, and we both cracked LIP.

  We flipped to the survey. Calculate Your Flirtability Quotient. Not surprisingly, Ashley scored the highest possible mark, an 18. She is The Life of the Party. With a whopping 6.5, I am The Wet Blanket.

  A few minutes later, Trish asked us to stop reading. She wanted to know what these magazines tell us out about ourselves. "Mathilde?" Trish said. "Would you like to start?"

  Mathilde ducked her head. She was wearing barrettes in her hair. Green plastic turtles.

  Holding her magazine up in front of her face, Mathilde whispered, "This is what I'm supposed to look like." With one finger, she tapped a picture of a blonde in a flowered bra.

  Trish nodded. "Thank you, Mathilde."

  Mathilde lowered the magazine and let her hair fall in front of her face.

  "Dawn?" Trish said. "What do you think?"