How To Be A Perfect Girl (5 page)

Trying to participate in the boring
conversations of the Trio plus Jenny was a tedious task. Val kept
thinking of things to say and then deciding not to risk it, and so
she just kept quiet instead. As a result, by the time Alex found
his way over Val had hardly said a dozen words.

“The way you always hang out with someone
other than me,” he began, “I might start to think I’m your least
favorite person in this club.”

“You’re my least favorite person in the
school,” Val shot back.

Alex laughed, “Now now, that’s not true. You
love me, and you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because, out of all these girls, I spoke to
you first. That means something.” He spoke so quietly only Val
could hear.

The notion was almost laughable, “What does
it mean?” Val felt compelled to ask.

“It means you’re desirable. In their eyes,
it gives you status. See how they’re glancing at you, and then
frowning and looking away? By talking to you first, I’m sending the
message that you are above them—in my eyes at least.”

“So?”

Alex sighed, “So, sweety, you should thank
me.” He returned to his group of friends before Val could say
anything else.

“What did he say?” Zoey asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“It had to have been more than that,” Jenny
said, “You guys were talking for a few minutes.”

Valentina shrugged, “Well
yeah we said some things, but nothing important. Nothing worth
repeating.” Suddenly she was the center of attention, as the Trio
gushed about how “dreamy” Alex was, and how they wished he’d talk
to them more. It made Val sick;
didn’t they
see how he treated Aiden? Or do they just not care?
She supposed the latter was more
likely.

Yet Alex’s intervention had the predicted
effect. By the time Student Gov was over Val felt like she’d broken
into the group of girls—she didn’t feel extremely close to them,
but she felt like they had come to view her as a peer, one worthy
of consideration.

Things with Mckayla hadn’t been the same
since Monday; Val texted her on the way home, “Hey, are you ok?”
She waited almost fifteen minutes for a reply.

“Sure,” was all Mckayla had written. Val
knew something was wrong—after all, Mckayla wasn’t the one-word
response type of girl, except when she was mad—but she just didn’t
know what to say. She didn’t even know what she’d done that was so
out of line.

Val decided to ask outright, “Why are you
mad at me?”

Another fifteen minutes passed; Val was home
by the time her phone buzzed with Mckayla’s answer, “Life’s
unfair.” To say it was cryptic would be an understatement; Val had
no clue what it meant.

“Uh, of course it is… But I don’t get why
you get mad at me for that.” It was nearly dinner time; from her
room in the basement, Val could smell the aroma of soup cooking in
the kitchen.

“We need to talk,” was Mckayla’s only
answer.

“Ok. Can I come over in ten?” It was a
question Val wouldn’t usually have had to ask; Mckayla’s door had
always been open to her.

“Sure.”

Val ascended the stairs to the main floor
and pulled on her flip flops; “Hey dad,” she said, “can you give me
a ride to Mckayla’s?”

“Not now,” he replied, “dinner’s almost
ready. We’ve been working long and hard on this, so the least you
can do is appreciate it.” When Mom and Dad cooked, they cooked as a
team; Val supposed they used it as bonding time.

“Please dad,” she begged, “this is super
important.”

Dad sighed, “How important?” He left the
kitchen to talk face-to-face.

“Mckayla’s mad at me for some reason and we
really need to talk about it.”

Dad frowned, “Fine, you can eat when we get
back. I’ll drop you off, but you’ll have to find your own way
home.”

“Ok.” It was a better deal than Val could’ve
hoped for.

Dad handed off the cooking spoon and took
off his bright red apron before grabbing his keys. “I’m gonna be so
happy when you learn to drive,” he said.

“Why’s that?” Val asked.

“Cause then I can finally retire my
chauffeur’s cap.” Dad was not kidding; he literally had a
chauffeur’s cap Val had bought him for his birthday. She’d bought
it as a joke, but he wore it every time he drove her places. Dad
had a tendency to take some jokes too far.

After a fifteen minute drive, they arrived
at Mckayla’s house. “Wish me luck?” Val asked; she felt out of
place in their new SUV, as if it belonged in a different
neighborhood.

“You won’t need it, kiddo. Everything’ll be
fine, you’ll see.” Dad kissed her on the cheek, “Now get out and
fix things with your best friend.”

Mckayla’s mother answered the door; “Uh, is
Mckayla home?” Val asked awkwardly. She was used to walking into
her friend’s house, with or without invitation, where like as not
she’d be greeted by an exuberant Brady.

“Of course, she’s in her room,” Mckayla’s
mother stood aside to let Val inside. She waved to Dad as he drove
away.

Val knocked on her friend’s door; there was
no answer for a minute. Then, “Come in.”

“Hey,” Val shut the door
behind her; the room was messy, with toys strewn everywhere, and
yet Brady was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe
Mckayla made him leave so we could talk in
private
. “So what do we need to talk
about?”

Mckayla sighed, “This is gonna sound
horrible, but I have to say it.” She was lying down on her bed,
talking to the ceiling, “You’ve always had everything; looks,
smarts, work ethic. I never had any of that—at Walker I was always
living in your shadow. So I always figured that, like, things were
looking up for me, and you were destined for a fall. So now that
things have gotten even better for you and I’m stuck in the same
crappy home going to school with the same crappy people from
Walker—“ she didn’t finish the sentence.

“You feel like it should’ve been the other
way around,” Val concluded. Mckayla nodded. “Honestly, I wish it
had been,” she took a seat on the edge of her friend’s bed, “You
have no idea how horrible Palm Lake is. All the people care about
is whose parents do what, and how you look, and nothing
important.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel
better,” Mckayla sniped, “I know what it’s like—all the rich kids
running around, spending money like it’s nothing and having
fun—I’ve seen Gossip Girl!”

Val wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh
or cry, “I’m not lying—it’s not nearly as fun as you seem to think.
I don’t know anybody there and they tell me who I can be friends
with and it just sucks!”

Mckayla rolled onto her side, so she was
facing away from Val, “Even if that’s true, I still feel like I
should be the one telling you about how it’s not as great as people
think it is. I’m the one who’s due for a lucky break! Not you!”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” Val
asked, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I didn’t ask for
this! I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could!” she
pulled out her wallet and threw it on the bed, “There—there’s
everything I have. A—a credit card and a debit card and all my
cash, too. It’s all I can give you.”

“I don’t want your pity,” Mckayla’s face
contorted with disgust, “Go home, Val, and don’t ever talk to me
again. Don’t even text.”

Tears welled up in her
eyes, and Val let them fall; she felt like she’d just been stabbed
in the heart. It took all of Val’s mental fortitude to locate the
door and leave her best friend’s—now ex-best-friend’s—house. The
walk to the corner of Keats and Boyce seemed to take forever; she
called a taxi and the man on the phone could barely understand her.
He kept asking if she needed emergency services;
no, of course not, since no hospital can fix a
broken heart
.

It was only when the taxi arrived and the
driver asked for payment up front that Val remembered she’d left
her wallet on her friend’s bed. She tried telling the taxi driver
that she’d have money at home to pay him with, but he wouldn’t
listen, “No money, no ride. No free rides!”

So Val found herself walking home, the
setting sun at her back. It was bound to be a long walk, and if
she’d known that was how her attempt at reconciliation would end,
Val would have worn something sturdier than flip flops.

She’d gone a half dozen blocks when a white
car screeched to a halt in front of her. “We know that girl!”
someone shouted. The window rolled down slowly, to reveal Keenan in
the passenger seat; beside him, driving, was Alex. Val hadn’t even
known they were friends.

Val ran through her options quickly: she
could run away and pretend to have been somewhere else the whole
night, she could try to wipe away her tears before anyone saw, or
she could just acknowledge them and keep walking. Numb as she was,
the third option seemed best. “Hey Keenan, Alex,” she said.

“Hey Val!” Alex grinned.

“Hey Val,” Keenan looked worried, “What’s
wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” Val looked at the ground; why
did they have to run across her now, when all she wanted to do was
go home and hide under a blanket? She was sure they’d tell everyone
at Palm Lake about her walking home, and about why she was crying
if she told them. Keenan might be trustworthy, but Alex was the
type who always shared others’ secrets.

They wouldn’t accept her vague answer,
“Look,” Keenan replied, “no one cries over nothing. Can we at least
give you a ride?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, “We have an extra seat
right here. On my lap.”

Val shook her head, “I guess I could use a
ride. But do I have to sit on your lap?”

Alex rolled down the windows to reveal
Grant, Steven, and Logan in the backseat, “You’re gonna have to sit
on someone’s lap, sweety. Might as well be mine, right?” he
winked.

Val wiped away some tears with her hands;
they came away black. “Still think I look like a goddess,
Alex?”

Keenan and Alex both laughed. “It would take
more than a little smeared makeup to ruin your beauty,” Keenan
said, “You can sit in my lap if you want. I promise I’ll be more
respectful than Alex. Plus, my door’s closer.”

Val thought about it for a moment, and then
stepped from the curb and pulled open the white sedan’s
passenger-side door. She settled down on Keenan’s lap; it was
pretty uncomfortable. He undid his seatbelt and re-secured it over
both of them, “There. Now if we get in a car crash we won’t
die.”

“So where do you need to go?” Alex
asked.

“1625 Cedar Avenue,” Val recited her new
address; she was glad that she’d memorized it.

“Cedar,” Alex thought for a moment, “I used
to have a friend who lived there. I know exactly where it is.”

“Great,” for a moment Val worried what her
parents would say when she was dropped off by five boys, but Keenan
and Alex kept up a running stream of jokes that made her forget
about that concern.

Alex drove ten miles over, even on the
sidestreets, and as a result Val was home several minutes before
she’d expected to be. “Well, here I am. Thanks for the ride,” she
smiled as sweetly as she could, given her current emotions.

“Any time, sweety. You owe me one
though.”

“I do?” Val asked, worried.

“Naw, of course you don’t,” Keenan assured,
“I owe you one for letting me use your Chem notes, and Alex owes me
one, so let’s just count this as repayment all around.”

Val wasn’t sure she understood his logic,
“Yeah, sure. Bye, guys. See you tomorrow.”

“Au revoir!” Alex shouted as he drove off;
Val thought she could hear Keenan making fun of him (“That’s not
Italian, it’s French, stupid”) as the white car sped away.

Dad cleared his throat from the driveway,
“So—who were they?”

Chapter 6

The second day of Val’s Flag
Football/Volleyball class found her learning how to throw a proper
spiral. It turned out to be a lot harder than Young made it look;
Val had discovered he was the school’s quarterback, which explained
why he knew Mr. Sharp so well. It would have been easier if she
hadn’t been one of only seven girls in the class; Mr. Sharp seemed
to take special pleasure in teasing her.

“Come
on
,” he said after Val threw a
particularly inaccurate pass, “You call that a spiral?”

“I’m trying,” Val mumbled.

“Yes yes, of course you are. And I’m trying
to be patient and not give you an F. You can’t always get by on
looks alone, you know.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Val
protested, “In what situation would I not be able to get by on
looks but have to be able to throw a football perfectly?”

“This one.” Val’s partner, a sophomore boy,
laughed at the coach’s joke. Val glared at him; “What? It’s funny,”
he said.

“No it’s not!” she tried to catch the ball
as her partner tossed it, but it fell to the ground after she
bobbled it twice.

Young laughed loudly, “Can we cut people
from the class, coach?” Val glared at him.

“Unfortunately not,” Mr. Sharp replied, “But
sometimes I wish—“

The rest of the period was filled with jokes
about Val’s inability to throw a football—it was as if no one in
the class had anything better to do than watch her try to throw
passes. Each time the ball fell, it was accompanied by another
remark, with the result that by the time Mr. Sharp told them they
could head for the locker room, Val was quite sure she hated every
single one of her classmates.

Young was waiting in the
hall outside the girls’ locker room; Val gave him a confused look
before shaking her head and turning to head for her next
class.
What’s he doing in this section of
the hall?
she wondered; it led only to the
girls’ locker room and bathroom. He had no reason to be
there.