How To Be A Perfect Girl (26 page)

“Hey Val,” Grant greeted as he sat down in
his seat diagonally across from her, “What’s happening?”

“Hey Grant. Not much.” Val frowned; Grant
wasn’t her first choice for homework help, but he was there,
whereas Alex and Carrie weren’t, yet. “Do you mind if I take a look
at what you got for last night’s homework?” Val asked.

“Not at all. Here, go ahead,” Grant handed
over the two sheets of paper.

“Oh my gosh, your handwriting’s hideous,”
Val laughed, “What is this?” she pointed to a number that could
either have been a three or a very misshapen seven.

“A three, I think,” Grant laughed, “I don’t
even remember.”

Fortunately, Alex arrived before Val had to
muddle her way through comparing all of her answers to Grant’s.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said, winking at Val. Then to Grant, he held
out a fist, “Sup.”

“Sup,” Grant returned the fist bump.

“So, Val—“

“Can I take a look at your homework?” Val
asked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

“That’s alright. I was just gonna ask if you
wanted to come to a party I’m hosting on Friday. It’s gonna be
really cool, I promise.”

“Yeah, sure,” Val agreed, “If you give me
your homework.”

“Alright, deal. Do you wanna ask Aaliyah and
Carrie if they wanna come too?” He handed Val his homework; Val
sighed in relief—his script was at least legible.

“Um, yeah, if you want me to,” Val murmured
while she went down the problems; for the most part, Alex had
gotten the same answers, but whenever the answers differed, she
went with what he had gotten. A few times she wasn’t sure if the
mistake that had resulted in differing answers was on her or Alex’s
paper, and she parsed Grant’s work as a tiebreaker. Class was just
starting as Val finished and handed Grant and Alex’s homework back
to them, “Thank you guys.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and I’ll text you with
details for the party—don’t want to interrupt the
Grand-Empress-slash-best-teacher-in-the-world Miss Stevens again.”
True to his word, Alex didn’t speak over Miss Stevens the entire
hour; it was one of the most informative hours of the class Val had
sat through yet.

In Flag Football, Mr. Sharp paired Val’s
team against a team composed mostly of Freshmen. “If you don’t bury
them, I’m kicking you off the real football team,” he joked ,
addressing Porter, “Unless of course you pass to Blondie, in which
case I think it’ll be an even matchup.”

Porter didn’t even laugh, “Don’t worry
Coach, we’ll make her feel included.” Mr. Sharp had cordoned off
miniature fields with small traffic cones, and Porter led the way
to the far “field”; Val noticed him studiously avoiding her gaze.
“Alright, I’ll be qb, obviously. Josh, since you’re the best catch
here, you’ll be my number one. Alexzander, I don’t think I’ve seen
you catch—“

“He’s not that great, but he’s alright,”
Josh supplied.

“Good deal. Then you’ll be my two slot.
Mason, just run down the field on every play; maybe if we’re lucky
you can get past the defense and I’ll lob it up to you, or you can
drag a couple of defenders off Josh or Alexzander.”

“What about me?” Val got the feeling Porter
had deliberately left her out.

Porter shrugged, looking at the other team
at the other end of the field, “Just stay close enough I can hand
you the ball—since you can’t catch worth a damn, I guess we’ll have
to do some running plays or something.”

“That’s not very nice,” Val replied
quietly.

“It’s the truth,” was Porter’s cold
response, before he signaled to the other team that they were
ready; Mr. Sharp had assigned Porter and Val’s team to receive the
ball first. A willowy girl Val thought she recognized from soccer
set the ball on the ground, took two steps back, and put her full
force behind a kick that sent the ball towards them.

“Spread out!” Porter ordered, “Pick it up
off the bounce.”

Val ran to the right side of the field,
hoping the ball would veer away from her; it didn’t. The football
impacted with the ground five feet in front of Val, popping
straight up into the air. She took a couple of steps forward,
preparing to catch it, but before it had fallen to the level of her
ready hands she heard a grunt as one of her teammates jumped in the
air and caught the ball one-handed. He landed on the ground, and
from his build Val recognized Josh. “Block for him!” Porter
shouted; Val rushed to get in front of the stocky boy, but he was
running as fast as he could toward the other team’s end zone. A
pair of boys stopped Josh and pulled out one of his flags as he was
crossing over the halfway mark. Josh set the ball down on the
ground, and waited for the rest of his team to catch up.

“Good return, Josh,” Porter commended as
they walked up to the line of scrimmage. “Okay, quick huddle guys.”
They gathered around him, and Porter outlined his instructions,
“Josh, run an inside post. Alexzander, do you know what a slant
is?” The pimply junior nodded; “Good,” Porter said, “Then run a
slant to the middle, but don’t get in Josh’s way. You two,” his
gaze flitted over to Val, and then to Mason, “Just do what I told
you.”

They lined up beside the ball; “Hike!”
Porter called, picking the ball up. Convinced Porter wouldn’t throw
to her, Val took three steps forward and stopped to face him.
Porter heaved the ball into the air; it spiraled lazily in the air
before landing in Mason’s hands. It looked like the other freshmen
had it, until he took a step; his knee hit the ball, and sent it
flying.

“Christ!” Val heard Porter mutter. They
lined up again; this time he threw the ball to Josh, who twisted
spectacularly and came down with the ball. Although the junior
tried to barrel through three members of the other team, they
succeeded in stopping him just outside the goal line.

“Val, I’m gonna pass it to
you,” Porter said loudly as they huddled;
Won’t the other team hear that?
Val
wondered
.
Sure
enough, when Porter picked up the ball, two of the other team’s
members clung to Val like she was food and they were starving. Try
as she might, Val could not get open; Porter stepped up and passed
to Josh again.

The other team trooped across the field,
awaiting the kickoff. Val turned to find Porter holding the
football out to her, “You’re on the soccer team,” he said, by way
of explaining his reasoning. Val nodded and set the ball on the
ground; she kicked it as if it were a soccer ball. The other team
had no chance to return the kick, as to Val’s—and her
teammate’s—surprise the ball sailed past the out of bounds line on
the other side of the field. One of the other team’s members
retrieved it.

“Cover the qb,” Porter
instructed Val; she huffed at once again being assigned the easiest
task.
What is the point of this class when
all I do on offense is sit there and be distracting, and on defense
I have to defend the one person who isn’t allowed to run?
In order to prevent the easy gains from certain
plays, Mr. Sharp had invented the rule that quarterbacks were not
allowed to run unless the defense came into the backfield to tackle
them.

The game ended very
lopsided, with Val’s team scoring twice as many points as the
freshmen. Josh, Alexzander, and Mason were all excited by the
victory; the only ones not enthused were Val and Porter. Porter
spoke to Val only to give instructions, and often refused to look
at her even then. By the end of the hour, Val felt like she’d had
quite enough of it; at first she made a plan to talk to the blond
senior, but then thought better of it and decided to let him work
through whatever issues he had with her by himself.
Who knows, maybe by Thursday he’ll be back to his
normal self even if I don’t talk to him.

Italian and Drawing were both bland classes;
Miss Wells was nice enough, but her lessons were some of the most
boring Val had that semester, and Miss Andrews was her usual
self—tedious. Val didn’t dare fall behind on her note-taking, since
the Drawing teacher had explicitly warned that the class’ next quiz
would not be a partner quiz; without Sophia to help, Val knew she
needed to up her study habits if she wanted to end the semester
with a good grade.

At lunch, Jenny gave up on
trying to win back the Trio; she sat with Val and the three girls,
and Val was encouraged when several opportunities to mock her came
up that Jenny decided not to capitalize on.
Maybe she’s starting to forgive me.
Or
maybe she’s just waiting for me to screw up.
The latter thought seemed more probable, so Val made a mental
note to watch Jenny closely.

In English Miss Donnely spent the whole
period analyzing the passage of Romeo and Juliet where the pair
meet, “’If I do profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine,
the gentler sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims ready
stand, to smooth rough touch with tender kiss.’ Who thinks they
know what that means?”

A girl sitting in front raised her hand;
Miss Donnely called on her. “Well, I’m not sure,” the girl began,
“But I think it means like, Romeo’s saying that like, his hands are
like—“ Val sighed loudly.

“Do you have something to add, Miss Hunter?”
Miss Donnely asked pointedly.

“He’s just saying he thinks her beauty is a
shrine, and he’s not worthy to touch it. And then, to apologize,
he’s gonna kiss the thirteen year old girl he just met,” Val
summarized.

Instead of correcting or reprimanding Val,
Miss Donnely laughed, “Yes, that’s it. But what a way to say it,
eh? He doesn’t use the crude phraseology that you did—no, that’s
not Romeo’s style—rather, he composes the first four lines of a
sonnet. Now, let’s read the next four lines.” Miss Donnely waited
for a volunteer to read; when none was forthcoming, she read from
her own text, “Juliet: good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands
that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers'
kiss.” The teacher moved out from behind her lectern, “Would you
care to give us your enlightening interpretation, Miss Hunter?”

Val shrugged, “I guess she’s saying that
Romeo can touch her hand, but not kiss her.”

“Shut down!” one boy joked, evoking laughter
from a few classmates.

Miss Donnely smiled, “That’s about it. She
isn’t saying that Romeo can’t kiss her—and, spoiler alert, they do
kiss just a few lines later—but rather, she is saying that Romeo’s
touch is like a ‘palmer’s kiss’. Who knows what a palmer is?”

“Uh, a priest?” the girl who had spoken
before guessed.

“Close,” Miss Donnely’s eyes swept the room,
“Anyone else?” She pointed to someone behind Val.

“Well I have the No Fear Shakespeare
version, and in there it says that a palmer is a pilgrim.” Val
recognized the voice; she turned in her seat to verify it was Aiden
who had spoken. She hadn’t even noticed he was in the class before,
but based on his seating choice that was no surprise. Aiden’s seat
was in the room’s far corner; it would have been impossible for him
to find a more out-of-the-way location.

“Yes, that’s right—palmer is a synonym for
pilgrim. So, Miss Hunter, let’s return to your analysis; in a way
you were right. Juliet is saying that they are already kissing, in
the same way palmers, or pilgrims, would, which could be
interpreted as a denial of his attempt to kiss her.” Miss Donnely
walked to the left side of the room, “Do I have any readers over
here?”

Zoey raised her hand; when Miss Donnely
called on her, she read haltingly, “’Have not saints—lips, and holy
palmers too’?” She looked up at the teacher, who nodded for her to
continue, “’ Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’ And
then Romeo says, ‘O, then dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’”

“Keep going,” Miss Donnely urged.

“’
Saints do not move,
though grant for prayers’ sake. Then move not—‘”

“You can stop there,” Miss Donnely
interrupted, “Thoughts?”

Val tried to make herself small in her seat,
fearing the white-haired teacher would call on her again. Sure
enough, when no one volunteered, Miss Donnely pointed at Val, “One
more time, Miss Hunter?”

“Um,” Val frowned, “This one’s harder to
follow. I think that what they’re saying is like, Romeo wants to
pray with his lips, by kissing Juliet, and Juliet is arguing that
kissing isn’t praying.”

“Close enough,” Miss Donnely glanced at the
clock, “Oh dear, it appears our time’s almost run out! No homework
tonight, but I do want to mention—we’re going to reenact the entire
Romeo and Juliet party scene next week, so start thinking about
what part you want to play!” the bell rang.

Chemistry was one of Val’s only fun classes
that day—Mr. Phillips taught everyone the “states of matter
dance”—it was silly, it was strange, and it was nerdy, but for Val
it was also a great way to forget about all the stress of her life.
She laughed with Keenan as they competed over who could do the
dance more obnoxiously—he won by inventing an entirely new dance
that carried him halfway across the class, and involved hopping up
and down on one leg to symbolize a gaseous state.

After school, Val had her final first club
meeting, with the Future Business Leaders of America. She had
expected the club to be somewhat official and boring, so she wasn’t
surprised when the club President showed up in a suit. “Welcome,
welcome,” he said, “I see a lot of faces I recognize, and a few new
ones as well. Thank you for coming—please, feel free to partake of
our libations,” Val grimaced at the overwrought language. The boy
continued, “For those of you who don’t already know, I’m Jessie;
I’m the FBLA President at our school, and the Regional
Parliamentarian.”