Perfect. Part 32

LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE OUT NOW. JUST BTW s.e.xTING IS ILLEGAL, YOU KNOW.

Kendra

Out One word.

A single syllable.

Three letters.

Two vowels.

One thin consonant.

Weighted with meaning.

Out.

Exposed.

All secrets revealed.

Absolutely nothing left concealed.

Out.

Inside out.

Terrified to show your face.

Out.

Chained to truth.

Swim. Or drown.

Blown Away By a series of text messages pa.s.sed around through the ether today. Shocked.

I've known Cara since grade school.

Cheered with her. Performed with her.

Sat elbow to elbow, shared locker room showers, did hair and makeup together.

And I never, ever got the feeling that she was gay. When did she get that way?

She doesn't look like a d.y.k.e. Well, except in those pictures, which leave no room for guessing. No wonder Sean was mad at her. Furious is a better word, and he had a right to be. But wow.

What an awful way to get revenge.

Don't think I'll be going out with him anymore. Breaking up is at your own risk.

Cara's Reputation Is pretty much trashed. I mean, most people at school are fairly tolerant toward the GLBTQ crowd. But you don't vote for them for cla.s.s presidents or homecoming princesses. (Let alone crowning one of them queen.) Don't ask me why not. It's just not done. But even worse than knowing Cara is one, is seeing all the dirty details like that.

If any one of us ever wondered what lesbians do, we've got the picture now. Literally. If I was her, I couldn't show my face at school again. Oh my G.o.d. Maybe she'll have to homeschool or something so she can graduate.

And I bet she won't be going to prom.

Then Again, Neither Will I A couple of guys asked, but since I don't even like either one of them, I'd feel, like, fake if I said okay. G.o.d.

When did I get so ... mature? Old.

That's how I feel. Tired. No energy, despite the pills Xavier keeps giving me.

Maybe I should eat a little more. But I'm really not hungry. Food is still my enemy.

Especially now, representing skinny teens everywhere. Especially now, when I have to keep Gilles happy. He likes the way I look. Especially naked. At first, I hated being with him. Hated how that made me feel about myself. But now it's not so bad. Ten minutes, tops.

Usually, more like five. Five minutes of feeling like a Fourth Street hooker, my body used and abused in more ways than I ever knew a body could be used, in exchange for everything I've ever wanted-a runway career. Designer clothes. And eventually, lots of money.

Haven't seen any money yet, and I haven't walked a runway. But it's coming.

Gilles says so. Xavier keeps saying so too. And once my career takes off, I won't ever have sick, disgusting s.e.x with someone like Gilles again. For now, I'll deal with it. Go hungry for it.

Run miles and miles for it. Take pills that help me accomplish it. But I won't go to prom. I'm not a kid anymore.

Jenna, On The Other Hand Is going to prom. I've never seen her quite this excited at playing dress-up.

G.o.d, I love my dress. Don't you love my dress? Took me hours to find it, and I had to keep trying stuff on, and you know how much I hate shopping....

"Slow down, girl, or you're going to hyperventilate. Let me see how it looks on." She changes into a short, strapless sapphire blue number, with a gathered bodice cut so low she just might come popping out. "Uh, wow.

Yeah, that's an amazing dress. It's a little tight up top, but we could let it out some...."

It could be a little longer, too, but I know she'll fight me on that. One battle at a time.

And anyway, I have to admit her legs look great, even if they are size nine/ten.

"You did good. Andre will love you in this dress. How are you ... what?

I'm not going with Andre. He has some dance thing that night.

Bobby Duvall is taking me. Andre doesn't know. Don't tell him, okay?

She can't be serious. "Bobby Duvall is a creep, Jenna. And what if Andre does find out? You don't want to break up with him, do you?"

Not really. But I don't know if I want to be tied down, either.

"But ... he really loves you."

I would have done anything to make Conner love me like that. Anything.

"You wouldn't throw that away for someone like Bobby, would you?

Real love shouldn't be disposable."

I'm too young for real love. Anyway, of course it's disposable. Look at Mom.

She trashed twenty years of real love.

Or maybe she was faking it all along.

A gasp in the doorway jerks us both around. Mom is standing there, close to tears. Angry tears. How dare you talk about me like that! How dare you judge me! I loved your father more than anything on this earth, except you.

Jenna shakes her head. Oh, really?

Why did you leave him, then?

Mom Draws Farther Into the room. She is trembling as she sits on my bed. Look. I tried to keep most of this from you because I didn't want to damage your relations.h.i.+p with your father. The truth is, he was sleeping with s.h.i.+loh while we were still together. His drinking was out of hand, and things were sliding downhill before I ever met Patrick. You have to remember the fighting....

I do. Yelling and screaming in the middle of the night. The m.u.f.fled sound of Mom crying. "You should have told us. We thought ... you ..."

I know. I should have. I wanted to protect you, but that was a mistake.

Jenna looks ready to cry too. So I was right about this wedding. It's bulls.h.i.+t.

No, says Mom. It's for the best. Your father hasn't exactly quit drinking, but he's doing better, because of s.h.i.+loh.

Look. Do you know why I push you so hard to reach for your dreams? Because I don't want you to ever have to rely on someone else to take care of you. I stayed with your dad long after it was clear that he didn't love me anymore, mostly to keep a roof over our heads. Patrick was an unexpected gift. I married him right away so I knew we'd be okay. Safe.

Provided for. And loved. He does love us, even if it doesn't always seem that way.

I Have No Clue What To Say Neither, it seems, does Jenna. Mom saves us trying to figure it out. She gets up off the bed. Starts toward the door.

Pauses. Turns, says to Jenna, You look beautiful, by the way. But your skirt is a little too short. She leaves us in stunned silence. Finally Jenna says, Unzip me, okay? She s.h.i.+mmies out of the dress. I have pills that would help her fit into it better, but don't mention it.

We are both quiet as she changes back into sweats, hangs the dress on a satin-covered hanger, carefully, as if it might fall to pieces.

Fall To Pieces Like her. Like me. Like how we thought of our family, until just a minute ago.

I break the silence. "The skirt is a little too short. Good thing you've got legs that can wear it. But I still think it's wrong that you're going with Bobby."

I'm only going with him so I can go.

I know he's kind of a creep. And I know it would hurt Andre if he found out.

And I know he loves me. But I'm not good enough for him. I don't get why he loves me, but even if I did, I wouldn't let myself love him back because love is like summer. It only lasts so long.

Only so long. Then it's gone, fallen to pieces. Fallen like autumn leaves.

Sean

Pieces That's all that's left of my carefully created dreams.

Shards. Slivers. Splinters, driven into what remains of my heart.

What's really bad is, it doesn't hurt anymore.

At least, when I was still in pain, I knew my brain was working. No one lived inside my head but me.

But now I have a roommate in there, and I really don't like the guy. He talks way too much. And the words that keep coming out of my mouth don't belong to me.

Growing Things Are trying very hard to make a spring appearance. It isspring now, though sometimes it's hard to tell in northern Nevada. Still a lot of snow on the mountain.

If I were playing pro ball, I'd be off in Arizona or Southern California or someplace really warm, working toward new goals. New records. New.

As it is, I'm here, where it's still relatively cool, playing regular season games, working toward the Nevada state champions.h.i.+p at the end of the month. May.

Champions.h.i.+ps. Prom. Senior week. And then, graduation.

Not so excited about any of it anymore. My baseball record doesn't really matter, unless you count mattering to my ego. Prom?

Kendra turned me down, so I'm taking Aubree. Don't have a clue why I'm going at all. It will only remind me that I should be there with Cara. My neck p.r.i.c.kles.

If I had hackles, they'd be rising. I've got to stop thinking about her, or risk blowing up again. Risk doing something stupid. Something mean.

Something the b.i.t.c.h d.a.m.n well deserved. Talk about revenge, baby. Brilliant move.

She never saw it coming.

You leave me alone, f.u.c.ker.

Chad says you're not here, that you're all in my head.