Almost Perfect

by Brian Katcher

  “Hey, Logan.” Tim had joined me. And, shockingly, he had what appeared to be a female with him.

  She was a skinny girl with deep blue eyes, the only feature that kept her from being a true albino. Her short hair was almost white and her skin seemed to have no pigmentation at all. She was the sort of person who might catch fire on a sunny day.

  “Logan, this is Dawn. Dawn, this is Logan.” Tim was grinning as if he’d just pulled her out of a hat.

  I shook her hand. “Don’t I know you?”

  “Maybe. I work at the Forum Eight snack counter.”

  Ah, so that was where Tim met her. With the amount of money he poured into that place, I was surprised they didn’t provide him with a wife.

  The cheerleaders eventually finished their routine, and the basketball team thundered back onto the court. Jack, who was not a starter, had been put in for the second half. He wasn’t especially good at passing, but the guy moved like a gas molecule and could dribble the ball like a jack-hammer.

  The cheerleaders had converged near the exit. I recognized Tanya’s circular shape. I watched as a strange boy approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her neck. She turned and kissed him for an entire Boyer time-out. Apparently, I’d missed the boat with her.

  Five minutes into the third quarter, Jack’s wildly flailing elbow connected with a Spartan’s face. A couple of the Moberly players didn’t seem to think it was accidental, and for a few seconds, it looked like there was going to be a brawl.

  After the two coaches defused the situation, I turned to Tim to make a joke. Then I quickly turned away. For once, Tim had his lips wrapped around something besides a corn dog.

  That was my cue to leave. Not only had Sage stood me up, but now Tim and Dawn were exchanging closed-mouthed little kisses and giggling. I grabbed my jacket.

  “Hey, you leaving?” asked Tim when I stood up.

  “We’re getting stomped. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “You sure? We’re going to Mr. Pizza after the game.”

  That had third wheel written all over it. I slouched out of the gym building and into the cold autumn night. The whole parking lot was filled to capacity with pickup trucks and vans. Every other vehicle had an NRA bumper sticker or one of those decals of Calvin pissing on something. I buttoned my jacket and prepared for the mile-and-a-half walk home.

  I recognized Brenda’s car parked alone over by the middle school. That ugly gold Saturn with the unnecessary spoiler and the little clown head on the aerial. I allowed myself a sad smile, remembering the backseat. Parking lots, dirt roads, Brenda’s driveway—our lips never separating, even as Brenda firmly shoved away my exploring hands. I’d been patient; I’d figured someday she wouldn’t man the defenses. I just kind of assumed I’d be there when it happened.

  Brenda was around here somewhere. I thought maybe I should try to find her and say hi. Just walk by her and say, Oh, hey, didn’t see you; how’s it going? Let her know I was okay and bury the hatchet. Unless she was here with that new boyfriend. Then I’d just bury my fist in his face.

  I was eighteen, alone, unloved, broke, and, I suddenly realized, seconds away from being hit by a car.

  The driver didn’t have his lights on. I only realized he was barreling toward me by the sound of his squealing tires and the shadow of the vehicle against the parking lot lights.

  I deftly went sprawling into a handicapped space as the car, a Chevy with one busted headlight and no grill, fish-tailed to a stop behind me. I leapt to my feet, wondering if I was about to threaten a bad Boyer driver or have my ass pounded by a carload of insane Moberly fans.

  Before my adrenaline rush kicked in, the driver rolled down his window. I knew the guy, a redheaded sophomore named Rob. He was a big oaf, the kind of guy you read about in the paper who’d accidentally shot himself in the butt or burned down his house trying to remove a wasp’s nest.

  “Sorry, Logan.”

  It was impossible to stay mad at Rob. I remembered the time he congratulated a girl undergoing chemotherapy on her successful “diet.”

  “Did you just get your license?”

  “Soon.”

  He wasn’t alone in the car. There was a short girl sitting next to him. She looked familiar.

  “Hey, Logan.”

  I squinted into the darkness. It was Sage’s sister, Tammi.

  From the rear of the car came a familiar feminine voice. “Get in the car, Logan.”

  I joined Sage, who was sitting cross-legged in the backseat. She didn’t scoot over to make room for me, so I was wedged in comfortably close to her. If this was a normal relationship, I’d have leaned over and kissed her. However, I remembered what had happened the last time I’d tried to merge lips, so I just patted her knee.

  “Sorry we’re late,” she said. “Is the game over already?”

  “No,” I replied. “We were just losing real bad—”

  Rob peeled out, then immediately slammed on the brakes for some reason, giving me my first taste of whiplash. Sage nearly toppled over. I realized she was having trouble fitting her long legs in the backseat, and I wondered why she wasn’t riding shotgun. Only when I saw Rob awkwardly drape his arm over Tammi’s shoulder did I realize what was going on. I grinned internally. So Tammi was sneaking out with a guy, too! So much for her high-and-mighty attitude.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked. Not much was open in Boyer this late.

  “Let’s head out to the rock quarry,” suggested Rob. He started to massage Tammi’s neck, which apparently distracted him from driving. After crossing the yellow line and nearly plowing head-on into a van, he kept both hands on the wheel.

  Sage took several deep breaths to avoid hyperventilating. “Why don’t we just go to the park?”

  Veterans Park was on the outskirts of Boyer (anything not actually on the town square was the outskirts). It boasted a war memorial, some decrepit playground equipment, and a baseball diamond. When Jack and I were in junior high, the cops constantly used to bust us for skateboarding in the parking lot. The year we entered high school and lost interest, the city installed a half-acre skating facility.

  Rob managed to park across three spaces in the empty lot, then left with Tammi to go on the creaking swings. Sage sat on a park bench and patted the seat next to her.

  The town council wouldn’t pay to keep the park lit up at night, so we sat silently for a bit, waiting for our eyes to adjust.

  “Sorry I had to bring Tammi and Rob,” Sage said after a while. “Mom wanted me to chaperone.”

  I didn’t say anything, but my mind was racing. Sage’s mom knew Tammi was out on a date? Then why did Sage have to sneak out to the movies with us the other night? If her parents let their fifteen-year-old daughter go on dates, why didn’t they allow her older sister to just hang out with a boy?

  The groaning of the rusty swings stopped. Sage squinted blindly into the darkness, trying to see what her sister was doing.

  “Is Rob an okay guy?” she asked, worried.

  “Yeah. I don’t know him that well, but I haven’t heard anything bad about him.”

  Sage was squirming in her seat. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “You really aren’t from a small town. Trust me, if he’d done any shit, everyone would know.”

  Sage giggled. “Damn, I have to get used to living in BFE. Tammi didn’t really date at her last school. She said all the boys …”

  Sage suddenly stopped. I could see her braces reflect the dim moonlight as she gritted her teeth. She hadn’t meant to let that slip.

  “Sage?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Sage?” I insisted. “Tammi went to public school? Why didn’t you? And how come she’s allowed to go on dates?”

  Sage shifted on the bench until her broad back was toward me. I think she was tired of my questioning, but I wasn’t going to let it drop. There was something weird going on at her home.

  “Hey, talk to me.”

  “F
ine.” She swiveled and faced me. She was smiling, but it was sort of a cruel smirk. “Tim told me you just broke up with someone. Do you feel like talking about that?”

  I scooted away. “No, I really don’t.” Why would she bring that up?

  Sage scooted after me. We were now both scrunched on the extreme left side of the bench. I was in danger of falling off. Sage leaned over to me.

  “Then you understand that there are some things I don’t want to discuss, either. Could we just leave it at that for now?” Her smile was friendly again.

  “Okay.” My mind was racing. What the hell was the big deal? Why had Sage been homeschooled all those years? Maybe she’d done something bad—broken the law and wound up in juvie for half a year, so her parents kept her at home. Or what if she’d gotten pregnant when she was, like, twelve, and her parents yanked her out of school so she could have the baby … or an abortion. That would explain why she wasn’t allowed to date. Or she could be HIV positive. Or …

  “Logan, whatever you’re imagining, it’s not that bad.”

  “Okay, but you’ve got to admit—”

  “Shut up.”

  There was a pause, and then we both laughed. We hadn’t moved apart on the bench, and we were close enough that Sage’s face was clearly visible in the darkness, just a little above mine. The night was cool, and I could see our breaths mingling. I could even make out the freckles on Sage’s nose. Her bright lipstick and shiny braces. Her doubly pierced ears. And the steam from our breathing continued to get heavier and closer.

  A dark figure suddenly lunged at us from the darkness. Before I could react, it had slammed between us into the bench, almost knocking me to the ground. The attacker’s hand grabbed at both of us, reaching for our necks, attempting to subdue both of us at the same time.

  It was Tammi. She wedged herself in the middle of the bench, a friendly arm around each of us. Rob was approaching across the gravel playground looking rather disappointed. Maybe the moment had been ruined for him, too.

  “Time to go home,” ordered Tammi. I couldn’t read Sage’s expression over her sister’s head. Not only did Sage’s parents not want her to date, but neither did her little sister. Tammi was chaperoning Sage, not the other way around.

  But Sage had told me she wasn’t going to answer any questions. As curious as I was, you don’t badger your friends when they don’t want to talk. Sage hadn’t known me that long. Once she realized she could trust me, I felt sure she’d open up.

  I never dreamed Sage’s secret was about to become my secret, or how desperate we’d both be to keep it.

  chapter eight

  IT NEVER FAILED to amaze me how the one sizable tree in our yard could produce so many leaves. Fall after fall, I’d end up raking ten bags or so. I dumped the last load into the charred oil drum at the rear of our property, squirted some lighter fluid, and dropped a match. The pleasant smell of burning leaves filled the air.

  Thanksgiving was the next day. Jack was in Iowa, celebrating with his extended family. Tim was probably sitting in front of his parents’ stove, watching the turkey and drooling. There were never any leftovers at his house. Sage was vague when I asked her about her plans. She said she didn’t visit her grandparents anymore, but she didn’t elaborate. She told me she might call if she got bored.

  My grandfather was spending the holidays in St. Louis with my uncle and his family. Mom couldn’t get a lot of time off work, so we were staying in Boyer. Just the three of us.

  I smiled when I saw the trail of dust approaching down our gravel road. I made sure the fire was burning okay, then ran to meet my sister.

  I’d never seen her car before. She’d saved her pennies from her job at the MU library and bought it from a friend. It was a white Taurus that had seen better years. As she parked, I realized that Laura now drove the nicer car in the family.

  I whistled when Laura stepped out of the car but mentally did a double take. Laura looked stylish! She was wearing a long brown coat, a scarf, and leather boots. Her dark hair was much shorter than when I’d last seen her over the summer, and she was wearing makeup, which was unusual for her.

  It was hard for me to picture this sophisticated woman as the same girl who used to have water balloon fights with me. The same sister who knocked out two of my baby teeth during a softball mishap. And here I was wearing torn jeans and leaning on a rake like some hillbilly.

  “Aren’t you going to help your sister with her bags?” Laura said with a smile.

  “Nice to see you, too.” We laughed and hugged.

  I hauled Laura’s suitcases into her old room.

  “So are these full of bowling balls, or what?” I asked, dropping the bags at the foot of her bed.

  “Just wanted to give you an opportunity to show off those muscles, studly.”

  Laura removed her boots and sat on her bed. She looked around her old room like she was expecting big changes since she’d left. Actually, almost nothing was different. Her gymnastics and softball trophies were still on her dresser, the pictures of her old friends were still on the walls, and, I suspected, the little metal pipe and box of rolling papers were still hidden in the back of her closet.

  “I thought you and Mom would have taken over my room by now.”

  I straddled Laura’s desk chair. “Desecrate your shrine? Never. At least, not until I figure out how to remove that wall so I can I have a big room.”

  My sister lay back on her pillow with her arms folded behind her head. “Your small room is good training, Logan. The dorms at Mizzou are even tinier, and you’ll have to share with someone. Are you still thinking of rooming with Jack?”

  I didn’t answer. As I tried to think of a way to change the subject, I realized Laura had sat back up and was staring at me.

  “Logan, you are still planning on going to college, right?”

  It was funny. I could look my mother in the eyes and tell her the biggest whoppers and sound as sincere as a minister on Easter morning. But when my sister suspected I wasn’t telling her the truth … She’d realized Brenda and I had broken up long before Mom had even suspected.

  “Yeah, I’m going. I guess.” I’d sent in the application the week before. According to Tim, I qualified for several grants and interest-free loans from Uncle Sam. All that was left was deciding that I really wanted to go.

  Laura patted the bed, and I sat down next to her.

  “Logan, I know how you feel. I grew up here, too. And it’s not easy to leave. But think about next year. You won’t be at school for eight hours a day. Jack will be gone, and so will Tim. And me.”

  “Twenty miles away. You’re practically on Mars.” Laura punched me in the arm. I think she assumed it didn’t hurt me. “Listen to me. Not a week goes by I don’t hear about some concert that I think you’d like, or meet some guys you’d get along with, or do something fun and wish you were there to enjoy it with me. You could work out in a real gym instead of a shed. Get a job where you get paid with a check instead of a handful of quarters. You always talk about taking guitar lessons; do you have any idea how many shitty guitarists there are on campus? You could have your own band in two weeks!”

  I bit my lip to keep from grinning. Laura could probably make Greenland sound like Club Med if she wanted to. And I knew I’d end up bowing to the inevitable and going to Mizzou, at least to see what it was like. But there were other things going on.

  Laura placed her hand on the back of my neck. I tensed until I realized she wasn’t about to put me in a wrestling hold. “You’re still thinking about Brenda, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. The main reason I wanted to go to MU was because she’d be there. And now it doesn’t matter.”

  Laura was about to say something when we heard the door to the trailer open.

  “Laura!” Mom called. “Laura, honey, where are you?” My sister smiled at me. “We’ll talk more later.” For the next few hours, we enjoyed an evening together, just like old times. Mom badgered Laura about her classes, her
roommate, and her social life, while making the final preparations for supper the next day. Laura sat at the dining room table grating carrots or preparing stuffing (there wasn’t room for two people in the kitchen). I didn’t bother to offer my help. The laws of chemistry didn’t seem to apply when I attempted to cook, and I knew I’d be stuck with most of the dishes the next day, anyway.

  That evening, as the Thanksgiving ham slowly baked, we all sat on the couch, ate popcorn, and chatted. Mom kept dozing off, and eventually we hustled her off to bed.

  “So how’s Mom doing?” asked Laura after Mom’s door closed.

  “Okay, I guess. She’s working too hard. If I move out next year, I hope she’ll ask for fewer hours.”

  Laura flicked a kernel at me. “You mean when you move out.”

  “Gosh, I could live in a tiny room with Jack and see you all the time. Sounds great.”

  We both laughed, then fell silent, lost in thought for a minute. Laura sifted through the duds in the bowl.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” asked Laura eventually. She didn’t mean college. She meant Brenda. My sister was the only person who realized that my relationship with my girlfriend had been more to me than some stupid teenage crush. She was the only one who knew the true story of my breakup.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t talked to Brenda in over a month. She’s moved on.”

  “I really don’t give a shit about how she’s doing,” said Laura without pausing. “I want to know how you’re holding up.”

  “Eh,” I grunted.

  “That’s not an answer. That’s not even a word.” Laura scooted closer to me. She laid her bare feet on the coffee table. This was the sister I remembered.

  “She’s gone and I survived. I hope she’ll be happy. I also hope her boyfriend will slip in the shower, fall face-first into the toilet, and drown. One or the other.”

  Laura didn’t feed me any lines about getting back on the horse or looking to the future. She just gave me a one-armed hug.

  “So you haven’t asked anyone out, I guess.”