Perfect
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About this ebook
Everyone has something, someone, somewhere else that they’d rather be. For four high school seniors, their goals of perfection are just as different as the paths they take to get there.
Cara’s parents’ unrealistic expectations have already sent her twin brother Conner spiraling toward suicide. For her, perfect means rejecting their ideals to take a chance on a new kind of love. Kendra covets the perfect face and body—no matter what surgeries and drugs she needs to get there. To score his perfect home run—on the field and off—Sean will sacrifice more than he can ever win back. And Andre realizes that to follow his heart and achieve his perfect performance, he’ll be living a life his ancestors would never understand.
A riveting and startling companion to the bestselling Impulse, Ellen Hopkins’s Perfect exposes the harsh truths about what it takes to grow up and grow into our own skins, our own selves.
Ellen Hopkins
Ellen Hopkins is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of numerous young adult novels, as well as the adult novels such as Triangles, Collateral, and Love Lies Beneath. She lives with her family in Carson City, Nevada, where she has founded Ventana Sierra, a nonprofit youth housing and resource initiative. Follow her on Twitter at @EllenHopkinsLit.
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Reviews for Perfect
367 ratings17 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5surprisingly good to be a romance novel!!! i could not put it down!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5One of my all time favorites!
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I actually preferred Impluse to Perfect but it was still an amazing book! I have been reading right through all the series Ellen Hopkins have written!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I love all of Ellen Hopkins' books! She is such an amazing author.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Although I mistakenly read some of this series out of order, I am TRULY loving the Second Opportunities books from Judith McNaught. This book, I felt, was much more in depth than the previous two I've read in this series. I love how much back story they gave on both main characters. I love the drama and I also really love the secondary romance going on with Julie's brother. This is a good series for anyone who loves a good mystery rolled up with a romance.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Okay I’m not a big reader, I’ll admit that. I’ve only started getting into these books over the last year or so and I love this author. She has an amazing style and the way she writes is so interesting. I didn’t realize this was a series and read this 1 before the first book but I’m reading that book now. This is a 5/5 book and the characters are super well done and keep you into their lives. I’ve dealt with an ED for the last 5 years and the way Kendra responds to it is exactly how it starts. Denying the fact you have one. I think the end is kind of weird and not sure how I feel about it but overal the book is so good. I will 100% re read this book and look forward to reading other books by Ellen.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I don't normally like poetry but it's used here in a very different way to tell an amazing story. I loved the mix of narrative writing and short poems at intermixed so perfectly! I personally felt this book was better written than the first! I loved getting more background knowledge of his life before Aspen Springs and how things played out afterwards. This was a very well done book for teens about oh so many difficult subjects that way too many teens have to struggle with everyday. I can very much appreciate both this story and this new (to me) style of writing. I just love how each and everyone of her books keeps me hooked from the first page! I just love how descriptive she with her writing. I love that I can almost visualize in my head what her books would be like if they one were ever turned into a film! She is an amazing author.
I would suggest any one of her books to any young teen looking for a good non fiction book. I would for sure recommend her books to any young teen who doesn't typically enjoy reading. Her books might turn you into a reader after all!! :) - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Judith McNaught's Perfect is the second book in her Second Opportunities series and the second book by her that I've read. The first book of the series, Paradise, was an amazing read for me that now has a place among my all-time favorite romances. I'd heard equally good things about Perfect, and while it was a great read, it ever so slightly missed the bar that Paradise had set. Much like with Paradise, the hero and heroine of Perfect are given extensive backstories that begin when they're both pretty young, but unlike Paradise, their romance doesn't get started until over 100 pages into the story when the hero kidnaps the heroine, taking her hostage after escaping from prison. Not only did it take significantly longer for the romance to get started, but having it start the way it did, put a bit of a damper on the initial emotional connection for me. Even though I never once believed that Zack actually murdered his wife, his actions at first aren't exactly honorable. The more time they spend holed up in their mountain hideaway, the better things get, but eventually, they still must part ways. After that, there were a few parts that moved a bit slowly for me, because I was beyond eager for the real killer to be found and for them to reunite. Also, Julie is extremely trusting of Zack, but when things go badly and her trust is truly put to the test, she comes to believe he really is guilty. At this point, she starts dating an FBI agent who was working on the case. Even though it was clear that she still loved Zack through all of the turmoil, I once again, couldn't help feeling like there was a bit of a damper on that all-important emotional connection. Admittedly the author did bring things full-circle with a touching reunion, and while the subsequent scenes of Zack and Julie's two week courtship were kind of sweet, I couldn't help feeling like things maybe could have been wrapped up a little sooner. Overall, though, despite my few nitpicks, Perfect was an enjoyable read.When the story opens, Julie is an eleven-year-old street urchin, who was abandoned as a baby. She was shuttled around from one foster home to the next her whole life, and she can't even read. In spite of her circumstances, she's obviously a brilliant, sweet, empathetic girl, who I liked immediately. She just needed responsible adults in her life who were willing to help her reach her potential. She found that in her psychologist who recognized that potential and helped get her adopted by a loving family who then helped her reach it. Now, as an adult, she is a teacher, not only of kids, but also of a group of illiterate adult women. Julie's family gave her their absolute trust, so she in return decided to be 'perfect' to be worthy of that trust. I think in large part because of the love and trust her family showed her, Julie is very trusting of others, which is why she fell for Zack's story and gave him a ride after he'd escaped from prison. Even after she found out who he really was and he'd officially taken her hostage, she handled herself very well. She used her intelligence and ingenuity to try to escape, but when all her attempts failed, she still lashed him with her sharp tongue. Eventually, after being holed up with him in a luxury mountain-top cabin for a few days, she comes to believe he couldn't possibly be guilty of his wife's murder. That's when things start to heat up between them. After Zack sends her home so that he can flee the country, she stands by him, maintaining his innocence to the press and never painting him as the monster they seem to think he is. She's his staunchest supporter and loved him to the point that she was willing to run away with him until some unexpected information comes to light. Then her faith in his innocence falters. While I understood her reasons and very well might have felt the same way, I couldn't help feeling that it somehow marred her love for him just a bit. Even after that, though, it's obvious that she still cares for him and it killed her to do some of the things she did. Once the real killer came to light, Julie was more than willing to make amends, but by then, Zack didn't want anything to do with her.When we first see Zack, he's eighteen and being thrown out of his privileged life and luxurious home by a seemingly cold-hearted grandmother. After that, he hitches a ride to Hollywood, where he gets discovered and builds a new life for himself as an Academy award winning film actor and director. Unfortunately his cheating wife is shot to death on the set of his latest movie, and everyone believes Zack did it. He's convicted and sent to prison for 45 years, but after serving only five, he's about to go insane and decides to make a daring escape. Things don't quite go as planned, which is how he ends up kidnapping Julie. From those opening pages, Zack is a pretty sympathetic character, who I never believed killed anybody. He does make some threats against Julie and hold her at gunpoint, but he also shows some surprising moments of vulnerability, which convinced her (and me) of his innocence and decency. Julie is a breath of fresh air to Zack, partly because she isn't particularly impressed by his super-stardom, and partly because she's nothing like the starlets and other Hollywood types who were only interested in him for what he could do for their career. She's pure and innocent, far from the jaded, cynical person he's become. Her zest for life is infectious. Being around her makes him feel like a different person – someone normal. Except for one sex scene that was rather rough and not really my cup of tea and which I mostly understood his reasons for and for which he later made up, Zack is a tender and considerate lover. He also behaves selflessly in sending Julie back to her family, refusing to take her with him out of the country. Zack has some hard, stubborn alpha male moments, but also plenty of kind, loving moments that help to make up for them and balance him out.Before reading, Perfect, I had no idea what the connections were between it and Paradise. Even though they didn't share the same last name, I thought maybe Julie was Matt's sister from Paradise. That definitely wasn't the case. I guess Ms. McNaught just really likes the name, which is fine by me since that's my name too.:-) Anyway, the actual connection is that Matt and Meredith, the hero and heroine of Paradise, appear several times as secondary characters. Matt is Zack's best and really his only true friend, and he and Meredith are the only ones who never lose faith in Zack's innocence. In fact, Matt moves heaven and earth to prove it. We also get to see more of Matt's amusing bodyguard/chauffeur, Joe O'Hara, who apparently appears in another of Ms. McNaught's books, Someone to Watch Over Me. We also meet FBI agent, Paul Richardson, who seems like a good guy but who kind of gets left out in the cold when Julie and Zack reunite. He shows up again in book three of the series, Night Whispers.Even though there were a few small things that kept Perfect from being 'perfect,' it was still a very good read. While the book as a whole might not have been quite flawless for me, it did contain one of the most perfect love scenes I've ever read in a romance novel. Once Zack and Julie finally start talking and getting to know one another on a more personal level, it builds a strong sense of intimacy and connection that makes their first love scene utterly beautiful. It's filled with the tenderness, love and passion I crave in a romance. Zack's love letter to Julie is also pretty darn perfect. Those things alone made it worth all the ups and downs they have to suffer through to get their HEA. With two keepers in a row under her belt, Judith McNaught has earned a spot on my favorite authors list, and I look forward to checking out the rest of the Second Opportunities series and more of her backlist titles soon.
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Incredible! I don't know which book I liked more: this one or Paradise. Zack and Julie made this story such an amazing rollercoster of emotions from one chapter to the next. There were times that I was dying form all the romance and the sexiness between those two, and then I wanted to throw my Kindle so far into the wall from frustration at the whole story. The ending was awesome! Amazing!
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5This book was recommended by someone I respect, so I struggled through half of it before abandoning ship. The characters are unbelievable, the story line even more so, and the entire thing is painfully written. Don't waste your time.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I feel as if I have a finished a great emotional journey. Defiantly a great book from my favorite author. The book was just perfect as the title is. It is surly a 5 star book but I rated it 4 star because of the last dragging part, but surly I must tell u all, that just for the last part u should not miss the whole book bcoz I didn't. My favorite part of this book was the letters by Zack and Julie there were tears in my eyes when I read those. If u are planning to read this book then please go ahead u won’t regret.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A satisfying read. The story is sweet and the characters are charming. However, just like the first book, Paradise, the plot starts to wane just before the end.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Liked everything but the end.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5surprisingly good to be a romance novel!!! i could not put it down!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I always think that the best way to gauge a book is to feel the character and the situation, and with this book, I felt both, love Julie Mathison and Zack Benedict....wish they were real people....Mcnaught is in a class by herself....
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Love, love, loved this book! I love how Judith can keep you interested the whole way through with so much suspense that you cannot put it down. Loved Zack's character!!! A must read!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5the sequel to paradise; good character development in the beginning but it declined and needed to be edited; hollywood references dated the book and made it soo far-fetched; and it was too emotionally driven too the point where it was forced; will not re-read
Book preview
Perfect - Ellen Hopkins
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE
To best preserve formatting of complex poems and elements, we recommend that this book be read at a smaller font size on your device.
This book is dedicated to every person who has ever looked into a mirror and thought, I’m not good enough.
With special thanks to all the people who have convinced me I am good enough. To my mom and dad, who encouraged my talents; and to the teachers who honed those gifts. To my husband, who gathered me in, and to my children, who taught me patience. To my cadre of friends who prop me up when I need it. To Ash Canyon Poets, who helped grow my poetry, and SCBWI, which showed me the way.
To my agent, Laura Rennert, and the Andrea Brown Literary Agency. To my editor and friend, Emma Dryden. To the whole crew at Simon & Schuster who help my books be the best they can be. To teachers and librarians, who share my books with their kids. And, finally, to my readers, who keep faith in me.
Acknowledgments
I must acknowledge the dozens of readers who shared personal stories about eating disorders, beauty pageant experiences, and steroid use. These stories informed the characters in this book, who wouldn’t be as real as they are without them. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Cara Sierra Sykes
Perfect?
How
do you define a word without
concrete meaning? To each
his own, the saying goes, so
why
push to attain an ideal
state of being that no two
random people will agree is
where
you want to be? Faultless.
Finished. Incomparable. People
can never be these, and anyway,
when
did creating a flawless facade
become a more vital goal
than learning to love the person
who
lives inside your skin?
The outside belongs to others.
Only you should decide for you—
what
is perfect.
Perfection
I’ve lived with the pretense
of perfection for seventeen
years. Give my room a cursory
inspection, you’d think I have OCD.
But it’s only habit and not
obsession that keeps it all orderly.
Of course, I don’t want to give
the impression that it’s all up to me.
Most of the heavy labor is done by
our housekeeper, Gwen. She’s an
imposing woman, not at all the type
that most men would find attractive.
Not even Conner, which is the point.
My twin has a taste for older
women. Before he got himself
locked away, he chased after more
than one. I should have told sooner
about the one he caught, the one
I happened to overhear him with,
having a little afternoon fun.
Okay, I know a psychologist
would say, strictly speaking,
he was prey, not predator.
And in a way, I can’t really
blame him. Emily is simply
stunning. Conner wasn’t the only
one who used to watch her go
running by our house every
morning. But, hello, she was
his teacher. That fact alone
should have been enough warning
that things would not turn out well.
I never would have expected
Conner to attempt the coward’s way
out, though. Some consider suicide
an act of honor. I seriously don’t agree.
But even if it were, you’d have to
actually die. All Conner did was
stain Mom’s new white Berber
carpet. They’re replacing it now.
Mom Stands There Watching
The men work, laying mint
green carpeting over clean beige
padding. Thick. Lush. Camouflage.
I sit on the top stair, unseen.
Invisible. Silent. I might as well
not even be here at all. And
that’s all right. At least I don’t
have to worry that she will focus
her anger on me. Instead she blasts
it toward the carpet guys. Idiots!
You’re scratching the patina!
Her hiss is like a cobra’s spit.
I might want to expose that wood
one day. I can’t if it’s marred.
But she never will. That oak
has been irreparably scarred
by gunpowder-tainted
blood. And even more by
the intent behind the bullet.
Sprawled on the floor,
Conner wanted to die.
Mom and Dad don’t think
so. In fact, for once they agree
on something besides how bad
their stock portfolios looked
last year. Both of them believe
Conner only wanted attention.
But he was way past hoping
for that, at least the positive
kind. No, Conner was tired
of the pressure. Sick of trying
to find the equation that would
lighten the weight of expectations
not his own. Listening to Mom
tell skilled laborers how to do
their job is almost enough to make
me empathize. The more she goes
on, the more I’m sure the carpet
guys understand. There is no
possible way to satisfy our mother.
I Guess In A Way
I have to give Conner a little
credit. I mean, by putting the gun
to his chest, he made an overt,
if obscene, statement—
I will no longer force myself
inside your prefab boxes. I’d much
rather check out of here than let
you decide the rest of my life.
You,
meaning Mom and Dad.
The pressure they exert individually
is immense. As a team, it’s almost
impossible to measure up
to their elevated criteria. I have done
my best, pushed myself to the limit.
To get into Stanford, I have had to
ace every test, stand out as a leader
(junior class pres, student council),
excel in sports, serve as a mentor,
take command of extracurricular
pursuits—cheerleading, honor choir,
theater. All around dating Sean.
Sometimes I just want a solo vacation.
Hanging out on a beach, submitting
to the temptation of sand, sun, salt
water, sans UV protection. Who
cares what damage they might
inflict on my skin? Nice dream.
But what would my mother say?
I can hear her now. Don’t be
ridiculous. Who in their right
mind would invite melanoma
and premature aging?
When I look at her, I have
to admit her beauty regime
is working. It’s as if by sheer
force of will she won’t permit
wrinkles to etch her suede
complexion. But I know, deep
down, she is afraid of time. Once
in a while, I see fear in her eyes.
That Fear Isn’t Something
Most people notice. Not Dad,
who’s hardly ever home, and even
when he is, doesn’t really look
at Mom. Or me. Not Conner,
because if he had even once seen
that chink in her fourteen-carat
armor, he’d have capitalized on it.
Not her friends. (I think the term
misrepresents the relationship,
at least if loyalty figures into
what it means to be a friend.)
Book club. Bridge club. Gym
spinners. She maintains a flock
of them. That’s what they remind
me of. Beautiful, pampered birds,
plumage-proud, but blind
to what they drop their shit on.
And the scary thing is, I’m
on a fast track to that same
aviary. Unless I find my wings.
I Won’t Fly Today
Too much to do, despite the snow,
which made all local schools close
their doors. What a winter! Usually,
I love watching the white stuff fall.
But after a month with only short
respites, I keep hoping for a critical
blue sky. Instead, amazing waves
of silvery clouds sweep over the crest
of the Sierra, open their obese
bellies, and release foot upon foot
of crisp new powder. The ski
resorts would be happy, except
the roads are so hard to travel
that people are staying home.
So it kind of boggles the mind
that three guys are laying carpet
in the living room. Just goes to
show the power of money. In less
than an hour, the stain Conner left
on the hardwood will be a ghost.
The Stain
That Conner left on our lives will
not vanish as easily. I don’t care
about Mom and her birds.
Their estimation of my brother
doesn’t bother me at all. Neither
do I worry about Dad and
what his lobbyist buddies think.
His political clout has not diminished.
As twins go, Conner and I don’t share
a deep affection, but we do have
a nine-months-in-the-same-womb
connection. Not to mention
a crowd of mutual friends. God,
I’ll never forget going to school
the day after that ugly scene.
The plan was to sever the gossip
grapevine from the start with
an obvious explanation—
accident. Mom’s orders were
clear. Conner’s reputation
was to be protected at all costs.
When I arrived, the rumors
had already started, thanks
to our neighbor, Bobby Duvall.
Conner Sykes got hurt.
Conner Sykes was shot.
Conner Sykes is in the hospital.
Is Conner Sykes, like, dead?
I fielded every single question
with the agreed fabrication.
But eventually, I was forced to
concede that, though his wounds
would heal, he was not coming
back to school right away.
Conner Sykes wasn’t dead.
But he wasn’t exactly okay.
When People Ask
How he’s doing now, I have
no idea what to say except for,
Better.
I don’t know if that’s
true, or what goes on in a place
like Aspen Springs, not that any-
one knows he’s there, thank God.
He has dropped off most people’s
radar, although that’s kind of odd.
Before he took this unbelievable
turn, Conner was top rung on our
social ladder. But with his crash
and burn no longer news of the day,
all but a gossipy few have quit
trying to fill in the blanks.
One exception is Kendra, who
for some idiotic reason still
loves him and keeps asking about
him, despite the horrible way he
dumped her. Kendra may be pretty,
but she’s not especially bright.
Kendra Melody Mathieson
Pretty
That’s what I am, I guess.
I mean, people have been telling
me that’s what I am since
I was two. Maybe younger.
Pretty
as a picture. (Who wants
to be a cliché?) Pretty as
an angel. (Can you see them?)
Pretty as a butterfly. (But
isn’t
that really just a glam bug?)
Cliché, invisible, or insectlike,
I grew up knowing I was
pretty and believing everything
good
about me had to do with how
I looked. The mirror was my best
friend. Until it started telling
me I wasn’t really pretty
enough.
Pale Beauty
That’s what my mom calls the gift
she gave me, through genetics.
We are Scandinavian willows,
with vanilla hair and glacier blue
eyes and bone china skin. Two
hours in the sun turns me the color
of ripe watermelon. When I lead
cheers at football games, it is wearing
SPF 60 sunblock. Gross. Basketball
season is better, but I’ll be glad
when it’s over. Between dance lessons
and vocal training and helping out
at the food bank (all grooming for Miss
Teen Nevada), I barely have time for
homework, let alone fun. At least
staying busy mostly keeps my mind
off Conner. I wish I could forget
about him, but that’s not possible.
I tumbled hard for that guy. Gave him
all of me. I thought we had something
special. He even let me see the scared
little boy inside him, the one not many
other people ever catch a glimpse of.
Did he show that boy to the ambulance
drivers who took him to the hospital, or
to the doctors and nurses who dug the bullet
out of his chest? Sewed him up. Saved
his life. I want to see him, but Cara says Saint
Mary’s won’t allow visitors. Bet he doesn’t
want them—scared he might look helpless.
What He Doesn’t Get
Is that everyone gets scared. I used
to get sick to my stomach every day
before school. Reading, writing,
and arithmetic? Not my best things.
I just knew some genius bully
was going to make major fun of me.
Then I figured out Rule Number One
of the Popularity Game—looks trump
brains every time. While it might be
nice to have both, I’ll settle for what
I’ve got. College isn’t a major goal.
Don’t need it to model. Everyone says
I have what it takes to do runway.
I don’t think I do yet. But I will.
My Mom Has Groomed Me
For modeling for years, ever since
she entered me in my very first baby
beauty pageant. I wasn’t even one yet.
Couldn’t walk, but already had a killer
smile. Mom dressed me up in pink swirls
and paraded me down that runway herself.
We went home with a tiara. Next thing
you know, I had an impressive portfolio
and a dozen more rhinestone crowns.
Soon, my cute cherub face was smiling
for diaper ads and shampoo commercials.
Once I could toddle, the trend continued,
with pricey gowns and big-girl makeup
and hair that made me look years older.
Then I did catalogue shots—wearing
the latest JC Penney and Sears fashions.
All through grade school, weekends
centered around pageants. And after
school, instead of homework, I studied
ballet and tap and gymnastics. Plus
the coaching in poise, and prepping
for interviews. Oh yes, and cozying up
to sponsors, who helped pay for outfits
and entry fees. Mom ended up leaving
Daddy for one of them—an orthodontist
with a client list full of beauty queen
hopefuls. Patrick is my stepdad now,
and he’s still paying our way in. I took
a year off while he straightened my teeth.
Braces and pageants don’t mix. It was
right about then that the mirror started
showing me flaws. When you’re younger,
a bump in the nose and a few extra
pounds don’t mean much. But now they do.
The Rhinoplasty
Is already scheduled for spring break.
A week to heal the swelling and bruising
that come with nose jobs. Scared?
Yeah. Statistically, I should be just fine.
But there are always those annoying
what-ifs. What if it doesn’t work?
What if it makes things worse? Or,
best of all, what if I have a bad reaction
to the anesthesia and fricking die?
The plastic surgeon comes highly
recommended—she and Patrick went
to college together. Not sure how that
makes her better than anyone else,
but Patrick’s paying for the surgery,
so it’s all good. If it turns out the doc
rocks, I’ll use her again for my boob job.
Patrick Won’t Pay For That
In fact, he gave me a totally embarrassing
lecture. First of all, for a young lady your age,
I’d say the good Lord gave you just enough
in that department. . . . That, while trying not
to stare at my 34Bs. And my guess is you
haven’t finished developing yet. . . . At that
point, Mom jumped in to agree. I didn’t
fill all the way out until my twenties.
Not till after I had you and Jenna.
Not till after breastfeeding two babies.
But here’s the deal. I don’t plan on
babies or breast milk augmentation.
Doesn’t matter. Once I hit eighteen,
my pageant winnings will be all mine
to spend, and I will have the D cups I need
to kick ass in the cutthroat world of fashion.
What’s Irritating
Is that Jenna, who just turned sixteen,
is well on her way to D cups already.
Of course, though she’s three inches
shorter, she’s fifteen pounds heavier,
and happy to stay that way. Jenna takes
after Daddy. Both her looks and her lack
of ambition. I watch her, tucked under
a quilt on the window seat, reading.
She seems blissfully unaware of the snow
crawling up the glass behind her. For some
stupid reason, that really bugs me. "Hey.
You gonna get dressed sometime today?"
Jenna’s eyes roll up over the rim
of her book. What’s it to you, anyway?
"I’m not shoveling all by myself.
Patrick said to keep the walk clean."
She shrugs. What’s the use in doing it
now? It’s just going to get covered again.
True enough. But it wouldn’t hurt
her to do it twice. It’s good exercise.
The book drops a couple of inches.
Enough to expose Jenna’s mean-edged
smile. Maybe you should do it all,
then. You’re looking a little flabby.
I could fast-pitch an insult back
at her. But she’s expecting that.
I’ll try a slow curveball instead.
"Really? Then I guess I’ll take
my own advice. Wouldn’t want
you to have a heart attack, anyway."
Her face flares, jaw to ear tips.
She lifts her book to cover it up.
I Didn’t React Badly
Because I know she was just being
rude. I do carry extra poundage.
But she doesn’t think so, and neither
does anyone else. Even the scale
keeps trying to tell me one hundred
twenty-two pounds isn’t too much
for my five-foot-ten-inch framework.
But that stinking mirror doesn’t lie.
Every time I walk by, it shouts out,
Hey. Chub. When are you going to lose
those fifteen pounds of ugly-ass flab?
Do you want to stay size four forever?
Between dance and cheer, I get plenty
of exercise, so I know my real enemy
is food. But calories won’t conquer
me. They are one thing I can control.
And Just Maybe
If I can control them, make myself
thin as I need to be, the rest of my life
will turn right again. Maybe, if I can make
Daddy proud enough, he’ll come see me cheer
or watch me vie for Miss Teen Nevada.
Maybe, if I can make Mom really look
at me, she’ll have something to think
about besides Patrick. Maybe, when
I’m a size two, a talent scout will
take an interest in me. And maybe,
when Conner gets out, he’ll decide
I’m the one he wants, after all. Maybe.
So I’ll count every calorie. Train even harder.
Fight for buff. And maybe I’ll ask Sean
about that steroid I read about—
the weight loss phenom of the stars.
Sean Terrence O’Connell
Buff
Don’t like that word.
Not tough enough to describe
a weight-sculpted body.
Built
is better. Like a builder
frames a house,
constructing its skeleton
two-by-four
by
two-by-four, a real
athlete shapes himself
muscle group by muscle
group, ignoring the
pain.
Focused completely on
the gain. It can’t happen
overnight. It takes hours
every single day
and
no one can force you to
do it. Becoming the best
takes a shitload of inborn
drive.
Drive
That’s what it takes to reach
the top, and that is where
I’ve set my sights. Second
best means you lose. Period.
I will be the best damn first
baseman ever in the league.
My dad was a total baseball
freak (weird, considering
he coached football), and
when I was a kid, he went
on and on about McGwire
being the first-base king.
I grew up wanting to be
first-base royalty. T-ball,
then years of Little League,
gave me the skills I need.
But earning that crown
demands more than skill.
What it requires are arms
like Mark McGwire’s.
I Play Football, Too
Kind of a tribute. (Hey, Dad.
Hope they let you watch
football in heaven!) But, while
I’m an okay safety,
my real talent is at the bat.
I’ll use it to get into Stanford.
The school’s got a great
program. But even if
it didn’t, it would be
at the top of my university
wish list because Cara will
go there, I’m sure. She says
it isn’t a lock, but that’s bull.
Her parents are both alumni,
and her father has plenty of
pull. Money. And connections.
Uncle Jeff has connections too,
and there will be Stanford
scouts at some random (or
maybe not so) game. I have
to play brilliantly every time.
Our first game is in three weeks.
Snow or no snow, we have to
practice. And on a day like
today, no school and all snow,
I’m grateful for the weight
room Uncle Jeff put together here
at home. His home. My home
since Dad died, and my kid
brother, Wade’s, home too. Our
big brother, Chad, lives in Reno.
No slick roads to brave, just
steep stairs, I grab my iPod, head
first to the kitchen for a power
bar and amino drink, plus a
handy-dandy anabolic booster.
Over-the-counter for now,
just in case our preseason
pee test includes a steroid
screen. Gotta play it smart
or end up busted, à la McGwire.
All Pumped Up
And ready to lift, I’m on
my way to our makeshift
gym when the doorbell
rings. Who the hell would
be out on a day like this?
I peek through the peephole.
Duvall, all frosted white.
Guess I should see what
he wants. I crack the door.
Hey, Bobby. What’s up?
The pissant pushes past me.
Dude. It’s, like, dumping
out there. He shakes off
like a dog, dropping snow
to melt on the entrance tile.
Uh, yeah, I can see that. . . .
Fricking dweeb. He just
stands there, and his stupid-
ass grin is pissing me off.
I was just about to go lift, so . . .
Cool, dude. Can I watch?
Been wanting to improve
my technique. He wants
more than that, but since
he’s not saying what, I don’t
know how to respond
except, "Uh, yeah. I guess
so." Hope the guy isn’t gay.
I don’t think he is. I mean,
we’ve shared locker rooms
for years. Bobby plays
first-string shortstop
and second-string kicker.
I never noticed him look
funny at the other guys.
But for sure, if I even
think he’s checking
me out, he’ll be one
sorry fucker. My blood
pressure surges. Swells.
My Face Flushes Hot
I move quickly past
Bobby so he doesn’t see
it and think I’m blushing,
or hear my heart drilling
into my chest, into my ears.
It’s the supplements
and their thermogenic
rush through my veins.
But Bobby doesn’t know
that. And he doesn’t need to.
He