How To Be A Perfect Girl (8 page)

Porter drove like a madman; he would have
given Alex a run for his money. Val closed her eyes each time they
came particularly close to colliding with other vehicles, causing
Porter to laugh. “We’re gonna be alright. No need to worry, I
promise.”

“Are you sure about that?” Val asked.
Derrick and Porter laughed loudly, but Val could only manage a weak
giggle.

“I haven’t crashed yet, have I?”

“There’s a first time for everything—“ Val
wished she hadn’t said it. Somehow the familiar saying made the
threat feel all the more real. She changed the subject, “So where
are we going?”

“It’s philly cheesesteak Friday!” Derrick
shouted; he laughed.

“Uh, ok—What’s that?”

“On Fridays we go to Phillies,” Porter
explained, “And we get Philly cheesesteaks.”

“Oh,” Val said, “I’ve never had a Philly
cheesesteak.”

“You’re missing out,” Porter teased,
“They’re great, you’ll see.” He pulled the red mustang into the
parking lot of a monochromatic building—it didn’t look like
anything to Val, but she decided not to judge the place based on
its the exterior. Derrick held the door open for her and Porter;
Val stayed back from the register, since she didn’t know what to
order.

“Are you paying for my food?” she asked,
looking at Porter.

The senior nodded, “That was the deal. What
do you want?” The menu was intimidating; it filled a twelve by four
foot section of wall above the cashier.

“Just get me whatever you think I’ll like
best.”

Porter laughed, “Can do. So a large Philly
cheesesteak and a soda.”

“No soda, please.”

“Oh,” Porter cocked his head in confusion,
“You sure? You look like you could use the calories.”

“Excuse me?” It took Val a moment to realize
he was joking, “Not funny.”

Derrick smiled broadly, “I beg to differ.
Get her the soda Porter, we’ll make sure this girl cures her
anorexia before today’s over.”

Val stuck her tongue out, “I don’t have
anorexia.”

Porter and Derrick ordered; Derrick paid for
all of them, despite Porter’s protests. He finally said, “Consider
it gas money bro,” and that settled the matter. They found a table
in the corner to sit at and filled their cups; Val had some trouble
getting the water spout to work, so she ended up settling on
sprite.

“So what classes do you have, Val?” Porter
asked as they sat down.

She counted them off on her fingers,
“Algebra, Introduction to Geography, Italian, Drawing, English
Composition, and Chemistry.” She paused a moment, “Wait, I think I
missed one. Homeroom? No, that’s not really a class. Oh, I don’t
know.”

Porter laughed, “Really? Just escaping your
mind, eh?”

Val nodded, not sure what was so funny.

“Say Val, what class is it that we have
together?” Porter continued.

“Gym—“Val said. She laughed, “Oh yeah,
that’s the one I forgot.”

“So—who do you have for Italian?” Derrick
asked.

“Miss Wells.”

The pair of boys shared a look.

“What?”

“Miss Wells is quite the looker,” Porter
shrugged, “That’s all.”

“Wish
I
had her,” Derrick said. A man—he
looked to be in his mid-twenties—delivered their food.

“Large cheesesteak?” the man said. Val
raised her hand; when the man set it down she smiled, “Thanks!” It
looked like a lot of food, and a ridiculous amount of calories, but
she wasn’t going to complain in front of one of the staff
members.

“And—two more large cheesesteaks,” the man
frowned, “I guess it doesn’t matter who gets what then, since you
all ordered the same thing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Derrick joked,
“I get the biggest one, cause I paid.”

The man nodded, but Val thought she saw him
roll his eyes. He started to walk away, but Porter stopped him,
“Hey my man, before you go, I have a quick question.” Porter
grinned at Val, “Wouldn’t you say my friend here needs to eat more?
Get some meat on her bones and all that.”

“I’d rather not, uh, weigh in on that,” the
man glanced sideways at Val.

“It’s okay,” she said, “You can feel free to
answer. I promise I won’t be mad.”

The man’s frown deepened, “She’s—gorgeous. I
don’t think you should worry about how much weight she has. And
besides, it doesn’t look like she’s dangerously thin or
anything.”

Val grimaced, “Gee, thanks.”

Porter laughed loudly, “Hey, you said you
wouldn’t get mad. And my man, I didn’t ask about her face, I was
asking about her body. We can all see she’s got looks, but I don’t
see how that factors into the question of whether or not she needs
to gain weight.”

Val was getting tired of the conversation.
“I’m not anorexic.”

Derrick smiled. “Denial,” he whispered, loud
enough for them all to hear.

“I’m not in denial! I eat enough food, I’m
just thin cause I exercise.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t give her such a hard
time,” the man said.

“Well we’re just kidding,” Porter said,
“There’s no need to get all—hissy.”

“I’m not being hissy,” Val protested, “I
just don’t know why we’re still talking about this.”

“Good point,” Derrick agreed, “Let’s just
dig in.”

Val looked at the cheesesteak in front of
her; as far as sandwiches went, she wasn’t sure it qualified. The
cheesesteak looked like someone had soaked it in grease and layered
as much cheese as possible on top. It was the kind of food Val
would actively avoid normally, but after the conversation they’d
just had, she didn’t want to hear Porter’s reaction if she were to
forgo lunch. She took a few bites, surprised that it tasted much
better than expected; its bold flavor was a stark contrast to the
bland sandwich Val had thought she was biting into. She ate until
she was full, and then ate even more. When she’d finished half of
the cheesesteak and couldn’t possibly eat more, Val set down her
remaining food.

Their cheesesteaks had all been served on
top of a bed of fries; Porter had finished his meal, and was busy
stealing fries from Derrick. “You can have mine,” Val offered.
Porter shook his head, his cheeks full of potato-meat. “No, you eat
that,” he said through the mush.

“Well that’s attractive,” Val replied,
wrinkling her nose.

“Sorry,” Porter apologized, his mouth still
full of food.

“It’s alright, just—don’t say anything
else.”

“Ever? Or until he finishes what’s in his
mouth?” Derrick asked, “You need to clarify the terms of this
silence.”

“Just until he’s finished eating. Seriously,
didn’t your parents teach you not to talk with your mouth
full?”

Porter was careful to finish his food before
replying, “I suppose. It just didn’t really sink in. Anyway, I’m
done.” He was right; there was no food left on his or Derrick’s
trays. Val, on the other hand, hadn’t touched her fries or the
second half of her sandwich. “You wanna get that boxed?” Derrick
asked.

“Uh, sure,” Val was pretty sure she wouldn’t
want to see cheesesteak again by the same time tomorrow; she was
already regretting eating as much as she had.

“Alright, just go to the counter and ask.
They’ll box it up for you,” Porter said.

Val took her tray to the register, where the
man who’d served their food had taken over from the woman who’d
taken their order, “Hey, could I get a box for this?” She asked in
her nicest voice, “Or like a bag or something?”

The man smiled; Val noticed a nose ring and
ear stud she had missed when he served their food. “Sure thing. You
aren’t anorexic, by the way.” The man talked as he retrieved a box
from under the counter, “You’re just about perfect.”

Val blushed, “Thank you. I’ve never been
told that.”

The man pulled the cap from a pen and wrote
something on Val’s box, “But surely you get compliments all the
time?”

“I guess—but even when I get compliments,
it’s never like ‘oh, you’re perfect’. It’s usually just people who
say they like my hair or something.”

“Well you are perfect. Have a great day,”
the man winked at Val as she grabbed her box from the counter. She
didn’t read what he’d written until she’d already taken a seat in
Porter’s car and they were driving back to school.

“Oh my gosh!” Val exclaimed,
“Seriously?”

“What?” both Porter and Derrick asked.

“That guy, our server or whatever—“

“Yeah?” Porter prompted.

“He wrote his number on the box. Eww.”

Porter laughed, “Really?” He looked at the
box in Val’s lap, “That guy must’ve been like thirty.”

“Maybe he wasn’t hitting on me or anything.”
Val thought about it a moment, “Yeah, maybe he just was saying like
if I wanted to text and talk about stuff.”

Derrick slapped the back of Val’s seat,
laughing hard. “Oh, sure, cause guys do that all the time!”

“Do what?” Val turned in her seat to look at
him.

“Give girls their number just to talk.”

“Well, I mean—“Val was at a loss for words;
Derrick was right, and she knew it.

“Look, Val, guys operate in three modes,”
Porter said, “The first is with our guy friends—we joke around and
just have fun. Then there’s the way we act around girls who are
family or that we don’t see in a sexual way. We act pretty much the
same with that group as with the first. Then there’s the way we act
around girls we think are hot—and it’s totally different from how
we act with anyone else.”

“Ok—But what does that have to do with
this?”

“That guy was acting like
a guy acts when he
wants
a girl.”

“But he barely noticed me—I mean, except for
when I walked right up and asked for a box.”

“He noticed you before then,” Porter said,
“He was stealing glances the whole time he was figuring out whose
food was whose. Didn’t you notice?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I saw it too,” Derrick added.

“Yeah, take our word for it, Val. That guy
didn’t give you his number because he wants a friend; you’d be
smart to just toss it.”

Val frowned, “Ok.” The car was silent for a
couple of minutes; Val was first to speak, “So which mode are you
in with me?” she looked at Porter.

“’
scuse me?” he looked
worried.

“Well you said there were three modes you
act in around people. You don’t act the first way around me, for
obvious reasons. But which of the other two categories am I
in?”

Porter grimaced, “You—“ he took a breath,
“—I’d rather not answer.”

“Why not?”
Might as well make him sweat a little,
Val thought,
as revenge
for the anorexia jokes.

“Cause you’re too young.” Porter nodded,
“Yup, too young.”

“Too young for what?” Val asked
innocently.

“For—for—“ Porter searched for the right
words, “Oh well, we’re here.”

“Hang on,” Val said, holding an arm out to
keep Porter in the car, “Here, I’ll make it easy. You said the
third mode was for girls you think are hot. Do you think I’m
hot?”

Porter’s blush was the only answer she
received; it was also the only one she needed. Val grabbed her bag
from underneath the seat and sauntered to her next class.

Chemistry was rather uneventful. Val
disturbed the lecture by walking in almost seven minutes late, but
other than that nothing happened. Jenny made a few jokes about
toxic soap, but Val did her best to ignore them; after all, it
wasn’t her fault that she had happened to be the butt of Mr.
Phillips’ joke.

Keenan never took notes; he just sat there
and watched Mr. Phillips as he wrote. Val almost envied his
nonchalance; she wished she could just put her notebook aside as if
her grades didn’t matter. But she knew if she did that her grades
would slip, and she wanted—needed—a perfect transcript, which meant
no B’s, no slacking off, and copious notes.

Val frowned and crossed out one of the
equations she had copied from the board; she had let her mind
wander and as a result her version of the equation didn’t make any
sense. Keenan watched her scribble out the erroneous note; “Having
trouble?” he joked, raising his eyebrows in mock concern.

“I just—need to slow down, that’s all.”

“Shh,” Jenny scowled at Val.

Keenan turned back to face Mr. Phillips,
“Hey Mr. Phillips, could you go over example two again?” he
asked.

“Sure,” the teacher paused, then went to
where the equations for the example had been written on the board.
“So, if you look at—“ Valentina used the time it took for him to
explain to catch up on her notes.

The rest of the class was uneventful; Mr.
Phillips droned on about ‘significant figures’. Val tried her best
to keep up, even though she doubted she’d need to know anywhere
near as much about the subject as she wrote down. By the time class
was over, she’d filled five pages of her chemistry notebook; Keenan
smiled and showed her his notebook—as far as Val could tell he only
had one that he used for every class. In it, he’d written ‘Use the
same number of digits at the end of a calculation as you did at the
beginning’. Under the note he’d added, ‘How about dinner next
Wednesday?’

“Wednesday doesn’t work for me,” Val said,
“I have soccer—hopefully.”

“Oh,” Keenan shrugged, “Well what day works
for you?”

Val thought a moment, “I’m pretty sure I’m
free Monday.”

“Alright, Monday then. By the way, Alex told
me we’re ‘studying’ at your house tonight?”

“Oh yeah,” Val had forgotten in the flurry
of the day’s events, “But we’ll actually be studying. So you know,
if you don’t wanna come, I’d understand.”

Keenan laughed, “Babe, if you wanted me to
go watch opera I’d say yes. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing
tonight than studying with you.”

It was the first time Val had been called
‘babe’; it was evoked a strange feeling within her. “Great! See you
tonight!”