The Perfection Paradox (16 page)

She stumbled
downstairs to the kitchen, desperate for a drink of
water.

As she filled
her glass her mother came down the stairs, her face twisted in
livid rage.

She held up a
pair of filthy cork wedge sandals.

"Care to
explain?" she demanded furiously.

"Mom... I'm
sorry, I don't know what happened"

Her mother
cut her off angrily,

"Emily, you
are grounded until further notice! How dare you be so careless with
my belongings! How dare you get so absolutely drunk that you wake
up the whole neighbourhood on your way home! I'm really
disappointed with your lack of self-respect. Just
look
at you, vomit all
down your front, smelling like booze, makeup caked all over your
face. You've
really
let me down."

Emily's head
thumped as her mother lambasted her, and as soon as she got the
chance she slunk back to her bedroom and crept into bed, sipping at
her glass of water intermittently.

She pulled
her laptop up onto her bed from the floor and flipped it open. She
wanted to mail Amanda and Sarah to find out what exactly had
happened.

As Facebook’s
newsfeed popped onto her screen Emily nearly spat out her mouthful
of water in shock. There she was, caught on camera, dancing like a
delusional tramp, giving a random junior a woozy lap
dance.

Oh
no
, Emily thought
, oh no, OH NO
!

After the
pictures of her dancing there were several very unflattering close
up shots in which she seemed to be aggressively yelling at the
photographer, followed by blurry pictures of her embracing a
different junior from the football team up against a
wall.

The next
picture showed her throwing up into a bush in Ryan's
garden.

Emily was
absolutely horrified, what had she done?

This was
beyond embarrassing.

What had
happened to Hunter? He would inevitably see these pictures and
there would be no chance of them
ever
being together.

She was so
stupid.

She grabbed
her mobile phone from where it lay on the floor and dialled Sarah's
number. She slumped back into her pillows and covered her eyes with
her hand, not sure whether the alcohol or humiliation was to blame
for the nausea she was feeling.

"I was
wondering when you'd call, how are you feeling?"

Emily
couldn't even see Sarah, but she could sense from her voice that
she was smirking at her hung-over best friend, "What the hell
happened last night Sarah? I feel
so
shit right now"

She could
hear Sarah laugh, "I think you may have had a
bit
too much to drink Em"

Emily rolled
on to her side ungracefully.

"Have you
been on Facebook? Have you seen the pictures? This is the
worst thing that could've happened. Hunter is going to hate
me!"

"He did try
and help you last night, but you basically shoved him away and
verbally abused him…"

Emily
smothered her face with her pillow, "oh god…
no
…!" she shouted into it,
mortified.

20.

Hunter
slipped a coin into the slot of the closest vending
machine.

He’d
overslept and had rushed to get here in time. In his haste he’d
left the snacks his mom had prepared on the kitchen
table.

The roads had
been icy and dangerous and he’d had to drive extra carefully, so he
wouldn’t have time for a Booster Club hot dog until after the
game.

 
Two
voices started chattering excitedly behind him.

“
Look! It’s
her! It’s
Kennedy
Blakewood
!”

“
Are
you
sure
?”

“
Yes
, definitely! She looks just like
her pictures, maybe even prettier!”

“
You know one
of my brother’s friends went to her school, they were in the same
class.”

Hunter turned
around to face the voices.

The two girls
must’ve been about fifteen or sixteen years old, and were still too
busy watching Kennedy to notice he was listening in on their
conversation.

“
I think she
might be playing soon, should we go find some good seats?” one
asked the other. Her companion nodded furiously and they set off in
the direction Kennedy had gone.

Hunter
strolled into the stands and joined Ryan and Taylor on the
bleachers where they were watching the girls warm up.

It was the
most important game of the season so far, against Hamworth High
School, Rosewell’s rival for decades past.

While the
four-month football season revolved around getting to state
championships, the reason they played all year round was to beat
Hamworth High School in the inter-school multi-sport Founders
tournament every year.

The state
championship meant nothing as long as they won Founders.

Four schools,
Rosewell, Hamworth, Grantside and Shiltonborough, competed for the
title of Founders Champions, having been the four high schools
established first in their county.

More often
than not, the showdown was between Rosewell and
Hamworth.

While this
volleyball game was a qualifier for state, it would give a good
indication of who would win when they competed at Founders, so the
gym was packed with students draped in the red of Rosewell or the
blue of Hamworth.

Chants were
swinging back and forth between the opposing sides, intent on
insulting everything from their rivals looks and intelligence to
their father’s profession.

As Hunter
scanned the crowd he caught sight of Emily, the hood of her scarlet
Rosewell sweater pulled over her head and obscuring half her
face.

He was
surprised she’d even managed to make it to the game after last
night. He frowned thinking back on it, when had she become such
hard work?

Hunter turned
his gaze back to the court, where Kennedy stood, shouting out
instructions and guidance to her teammates. He relished the sight
of her.

Slow
down
, he warned himself, becoming aware of
his misplaced pride and premature possessiveness.
She’s not yours yet
.

“
Oh my god,
look at number seven. She has got to be the
hottest
girl I have ever seen!”
Hunter heard a voice exclaim loudly behind him.

He turned and
glared. The guy was wearing a blue letterman jacket, identical to
the jackets worn by the four guys sat around him.

He didn’t
even seem to notice Hunter’s glare.

These were
Hamworth’s answer to Hunter and his friends.

One of his
friends piped up, “Don’t you know who that is?
That’s
Kennedy
Blakewood!”

There was a
pause; a few spectators glanced at the group of boys at the mention
of Kennedy’s name.

“
Blakewood?”
One of the guys in a letterman jacket finally yelled out,
connecting the dots, “As in Benjamin Blakewood? James Blakewood?
Nicholas Blakewood?”

“
Yup!”

“
Who are
they
?” a voice demanded, “I’ve never heard
of them before.”

“
Yeah, no
shit, that’s because you only moved here three months ago. The
Blakewoods are, like, the three best footballers this state’s ever
had. Plus they were smarter than Einstein. The youngest one
graduated two years ago. That girl there is their baby
sister…”

“
Where are
they now?”

“
All three
got full scholarships. Benjamin is at Harvard, James is at Yale and
Nicholas is at Princeton. They’re
living
legends
. I guarantee you number seven will
be the best player on the team by a long shot...”

His eyes
seemed to glaze over for a few moments, as if he was reliving some
long lost memory, “She’s a Blakewood; winning is what they do
best.”

The game
started, and Hunter watched with delight as Kennedy did what she
had always done, serve more powerfully, react faster, reach higher,
spike harder, and just generally do everything better than any of
the other girls could ever dream to do.

Rosewell High
School won that day.

21.

The hallways
of Rosewell High School were draped with pink and red
banners.

Large frilled
hearts had been cut meticulously out of poster paper and hung
lop-sided on the cool grey granite walls of Rosewell’s intricately
linked hallways to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

The Student
Council had organized a dance that evening in the school gym for
the juniors and seniors, and a rose delivery service had been
interrupting classes all day, handing out single red roses with
crisp white ribbons tied about their thorny stems to the most loved
members of Rosewell’s teenaged society.

Couples
embraced everywhere Matt looked, caressing each other’s cheeks
lovingly and exchanging various bodily fluids.

Countless
girls clutched tacky-looking stuffed bears with hearts in their
paws, or cards imprinted with hearts or kiss marks, glittery and
nauseating.

It seemed
Valentine’s Day brought with it some basic biological need to be
dressed head to toe in red or pink for the girls of Rosewell High.
A shock of fluffy, sequined over-the-top ornaments decorating their
arms, necks and hair.

Girls Matt
had never even seen before were glancing from boy to boy, their
eyes resting on him hungrily before falling to the next suspect,
wondering if there were any secret admirers out there who were
about to declare their undying love.

The usual
incessant gossiping increased ten fold every February
14
^th
,
every glance or meaningless sentence was discussed, overanalysed
and deciphered until it somehow suggested an impending marriage
proposal.

Matt would’ve
been happy staying at home, but he had his own hormonal homage to
make to a certain blonde.

Not that she
would distinguish his Valentine’s tribute from the dozens of others
she undoubtedly received. It always seemed the girls desperately
waiting for a rose, a card, or even just a double take, left the
halls empty handed at 3pm.

It was always
Kennedy Blakewood, Brooke Kent, Alexandra Cantonini, the girls who
barely seemed to notice or care that it was Valentine’s Day, who
left with armfuls of chocolate, roses and elaborate
gifts.

To the
beautiful it was a second Christmas. 

Matt glanced
around him quickly as he walked down the hallway. His hands shook
ever so slightly and he could feel his armpits flush with uneasy
heat from the nerves. He was meant to be going to the bathroom but
was instead using the opportunity to slide his home-made
Valentine’s Day card into Kennedy’s locker, locker 322. He’d
memorized it.

The card in
question was currently tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie.
Matt knew the message he’d written within verbatim.

Dear
Kennedy,

I’ve watched
you so long from afar.

You are the
most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I don’t know
how to tell you how I feel or how to even talk to you.

I wish I
could make you mine, and one day I will, but for now, I’m happy
just to watch you.

Your secret
admirer

Matt had felt
cheesy writing it, but for all its clichés every word of it was
true.

He slid it
through the gap in the top of her locker and edged back, sinking
into the crowd of students spilling out of the surrounding
classrooms as the school bell rang.

He waited for
her, his peers jostling past him, eager to get to their lockers and
out of school.

The sea of
teenagers parted as it always did when Kennedy Blakewood
approached, and within seconds there she was, in all her exquisite
splendour.

Her hair was
pulled back, out of her face; a few stray gold strands tumbled
around her forehead in a perfect mess.

She wore a
cream cable knit sweater and pale jeans, her face still tanned from
the week her family had spent on a yacht in the Caribbean over the
Christmas break.

She was
chatting animatedly to Brooke
,
her hands dancing around in enthusiastic
gestures. Brooke was laughing, which was no small feat.

Matt thought
she looked a lot prettier when she smiled, it was a shame she spent
so much time glaring and grimacing, a disgusted moue ever present
on her heart-shaped face.

They both
fiddled with their locks, still talking, although now it was more
quietly, almost secretive.