Perfect (31 page)

yellow, or any shade in between.

When you rub elbows with rich kids,

no one’s especially

worried about what might rub off.

I Have Heard

That in Deep South states like Alabama—hotbeds

of racial unrest in

the sixties—even today, they have segregated

schools. Probably not officially sanctioned

as such, but according to

Jenna, on a trip to visit family down “theya,”

her cousins made it clear that they attended

the “white high school.”

The one across town was “the colored school.”

I was something close to stunned. “You can’t

be serious! This is

the twenty-first century, for cripes’ sake!”

Visiting down there is definitely like

stepping back in

time. Not everything about that is

bad, though. Communities are safe.

Families are tight.

People are polite, respectful.…

“Except when it comes to people of color.

Not to mention gay

people. Muslims. Jews. God, Jenna.”

She slid her little hand into mine.

But that’s not me.

Sometimes I’m not even sure how I can

be related to them. I know my great-

great grandpa moved

down there during the Depression.

Somehow, he found work, when other

people couldn’t.

The South was good to him, and he

stayed a loyal Southerner. So did most

of his family, including

Dad. But someone had to break the cycle.

I’m sort of a cycle breaker, in case you

somehow haven’t

noticed. And no one speaks for me.

Just Like That

Everything was great between us

again. She has this way

of making me forgive her instantly

for any indiscretion, tiny or unimaginably

gigantic. Good thing loving

someone doesn’t require caring about

their parents. Jenna’s mom just kind of

ignores the fact that

I’m still dating her daughter. She’s so hung

up on Kendra and building her career that she

barely notices Jenna anyway.

Her father, I’m sure, hasn’t even come

close to accepting us. Not that it matters.

Jenna does as she pleases.

I definitely do not desire a confrontation,

however. In fact, I want to steer way beyond

clear of Rudolph

Mathieson. I kind of like being alive.

I Especially Like

Being alive when I’m dancing. It’s like

the best part of me

chassés out of the shadows, into the spotlight.

I usually have lessons on Saturday morning.

But Liana is taking

tomorrow off to drive to San Francisco

so she can spend Easter with her family.

So I am ball-changing

and pivot-stepping this afternoon instead.

Liana is working me hard.
Posture!

Keep your shoulders

back. That’s it! Beautiful, Andre.

Okay, let’s practice some isolations now.

Left rib cage. Right rib

cage.
Cooling me down after a couple

of very hard routines. She is evil. Good evil.

When we finish, every

muscle, tendon, and joint in my body sings.

I grab a towel, dry a little sweat, exit

the studio. Outside the door,

in the waiting room, is that cheerleader

on the Galena team. The one who stalked

off at the competition

that day. What was her name? Shan… tell.

Yeah, that’s it. Head bent toward her lap,

where she is busily

texting someone, she doesn’t notice me

at first. I think about backing away,

so she won’t know

about what I do on my free afternoons.

God, what if she tells everyone? Yeah, Andre,

right. Like who? And

there’s nowhere to back away to, anyway.

So I Take The Direct Approach

“Hello, Shantell.” Her head rolls up

from her texting.

It takes a few seconds for recognition.

Then her eyes go wide with surprise,

and her jaw drops

practically to her neck.
You… dance?

“What? Did the leotard give it away?”

I smile. “Yes, in fact, I do

dance. You train with Liana too, I guess?”

Since I was little. But I’ve never seen

you
here before.

Her voice is acid. Sharp. Caustic.

“I take private lessons. On Saturdays,

usually.” At the word

“private,” she starts to nod. “What?”

Nothing. It just figures that you’d take

private lessons.
She

looks away as some other girls arrive

for their group lesson. “You don’t like

me very much, that’s

obvious. What I don’t get is why not.”

She turns to face me. Points toward

the mountain.
I don’t

live up there.
She means in a mansion

on the hill. And that pisses me off.

“Do you want me

to apologize because my parents worked

their asses off to become successful?

You could live up there

if you want. All it takes is determination.”

Baby, I’ve got plenty of that. Talent,

too. I’ll get there on

talent. Because I do not have connections.

I’m Not Sure If That Means

She likes me after all. Or if it means

she has forgiven me

for living up there. Or if it means one

damn thing, or why I even care. “So are

we friends now?” I smile

my warmest smile, expect her to melt.

She snorts.
Yeah, right. Even if I thought

I could maybe like you,

I wouldn’t because you have crappy taste

in girlfriends. I mean, Kendra’s cool and

all, but her sister is just

a regular bee-otch. What you see in her…

She would doubtless say more, but

Liana pokes her head

through the door and calls the girls to class.

I don’t need to explain my love for Jenna.

So I say, “Whatever you think

about Jenna—or me—I like you, Shantell.”

As I Say It

I realize I really do like her, despite her open

contempt for me.

Not that it matters. “Have a great weekend.”

Yeah. You too.
She tosses her head,

haughty and pretty

as some extravagant bird of prey.

And I watch her walk away, all rich cocoa

skin and sleek raven

hair and a dancer’s well-muscled body.

She is no Jenna, but she does have

something special

going on. Wait. Jenna. I forgot to call

and let her know I’d be late. Bet she’s mad.

I locate my cell, check

for messages. Uh-huh. Damn. Three of them.

Where are you?
At least it’s a whine,

not a roar.
And why

aren’t you picking up? Are you okay?

That’s it. Play the guilt card. She’s great

at that. But I should

have called. So I do now. “Hey. Sorry

I didn’t call sooner.…” She goes off

on me about how

worried she’s been. “I’m really sorry,

sweetheart. I… uh…” What do I tell

her? The truth? No way.

“…got hung up, filling out college applications

with my dad. He’s been pushing me to

do them for weeks now.

Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be right there.”

Don’t think she’d want me sweaty.

Then again, maybe

she’d like it. I get in my car and drive

home, wondering why I don’t feel like

I can share my private

dreams with the girl I’m so in love with.

Cara

Private Dreams

Snare you. Swallow you.

Make you feel

like you’re all

alone,

like you don’t want

to sleep and fall

into them. What good are

dreams

if you can’t share

them? How sad

to think there

are

people who must

move forward into

some hollow future,

empty

of hope. Destined

to travel an avenue

potholed with broken

promises.

Spring Break

Thank God. I need some time away

from school. Away from friends who

stopped being friends because of Sean.

What’s up with that, anyway?

But more, I need some time to spend

getting to know Dani better. And, if

I can find the courage, to let her get

to know me. Looking back, it’s clear

that I never opened all the way up

to Sean. Not even when I thought

I was in love with him. It’s genetic.

I am more like my mother than I ever

believed possible. In fact, I would

have sworn we were nothing alike,

that I have fought to be any person

other than her. I failed miserably.

I Haven’t Even Seen

Dani in a couple of weeks. Not

since before the whole Sean mess.

It’s not like I’ve purposely tried

to ignore her. Our schedules have

kept us apart. We have talked on

the phone, the sound of her voice

solace. I tried to tell her about Sean.

Couldn’t. Couldn’t tell anyone.

All I want is to forget the ugly

scene. But don’t think I ever can.

So I’ll use it to make me stronger.

Fuel myself with it, an energy drink.

Because now that I know who

I’m not, I can claim the person

I really am. Take ownership of her.

That’s my plan, and it’s starting

with Dani. Tonight. We’re going

to a party. “A Queer Spring Break

Bash” is how it’s been billed. Booze.

Beer. Drugs (?). And gay people.

Going With Dani

Means it will be my “coming out”

party, so to speak. Good? Bad?

Not sure. Am I ready to admit

so publicly who I’ve only just

decided I am? Answer, to come.

Now, what to wear? Jeans, of course.

Sweatshirt? (Sloppy.) Sweater?

(Girly.) Will anyone care, including

Dani? Girly is better than sloppy.

I own a dozen sweaters, all folded

in perfect colored squares on a closet

shelf. Jade. Turquoise. Ruby. Bone.

I choose the amethyst. It’s soft,

warm, and clings to my body like oil

on skin. Uggs? No. Black leather

boots with tall spike heels. Overall,

the look is dominatrix girly. Kind

of cool, kind of weird. Which

sums up how I feel right now.

Half amazing. Half out of my mind.

I Do My Best

To make sure Dani will only

see the amazing half. We meet

at Summit Sierra. No need to

chance parental third degree.

I park at the far perimeter

of the lot, anticipation nibbling.

I feel like a kid, waiting for some

indication of a sleigh on my rooftop.

An aging Subaru pulls in next

to my almost new Nissan. Behind

the windshield, Dani smiles, waves

me over. “Hey. So great to see you.

Love your hair.” The dark quills

are tipped with a striking blue.

Hey yourself. And damn, girl
.

Do you know how hot you are?

The reindeer have arrived.

What I need now is for Santa

to come slipping down my chimney.

I try coy, not my best thing. “Me?”

Come on. You look totally edible
.

She stretches across the console,

brings her face close to mine.
Can

I have a little taste before we go?

For one nanosecond, I see Sean,

leaning over me. But Dani is not

Sean, and I accept her kiss easily.

It is hungry, but not demanding.

Rather, it convinces me that this

is, indeed, the place I am destined