Perfect (9 page)

Ashley kicked off her shoes and reclined on the couch,
her feet propped on the coffee table. I noticed that her socks were pure white on the bottom. They probably
smelled like vanilla beans.

I sat down next to her but kept my sneakers on.

Ashley sipped her Diet Coke and asked if I had any
sisters or brothers.

"One sister," I said. "Younger."

"Really? A sister?" Ashley took her feet off the coffee
table and tucked them under herself. "I always wanted a
sister. How old?"

"Ten."

"Ten. You're so lucky."

I practically choked on an ice cube "You wouldn't want
April for a sister," I said. "Trust me. She's a pain in the
you-know-what."

Ashley smiled. She really does have the world's most
perfect teeth. "Come on, Isabelle, she can't be that had."

"Oh, yes," I said. "She can."

We continued the small talk for a few minutes. I tried
not to look at the food trays. I wanted a chocolate chip
cookie so had I was drooling.

Finally, Ashley said, so casual, "I guess we should eat
those sandwiches, huh? Before they get cold?"

Yes, I suppose we'd better.

And the corn chips, and the cookies, and the peppermint patties, and the Cap'n Crunch, and the tuna salad,
and the cold leftover spaghetti, and an entire bag of frozen
cocktail meatballs dipped in BBQ sauce, and the rest of
the Diet Coke.

FOR OUR BIKE RIDE my mother packed us a picnic, all healthy stuff. Peaches, zucchini bread, and lemon
hummus sandwiches on seven grain. Also a box of raisins,
which I wasn't crazy about.

Besides that, there was a bigger problem. If I came
within three feet of anything resembling food, I would
die.

We'd been riding for a couple of miles. Every few minutes my mother pointed to a tree and announced how
splendid it was. "Look at that one, Belle! Isn't it splendid?
It's like fire."

I'll tell you what's like fire-my intestines.

"Ooo! Look at that one! Have you ever seen such
colors?"

Somehow I managed to say "Wow!" and "Nice one!"
But really what I was trying to do was stay vertical.

By the time we pulled off the bike path onto the dirt
road that winds around the lake, my stomach was cramping so badly I was doubled over the handlebars. I told my
mother I had to find a bathroom. Now.

She said if I could wait another mile, there was a gas
station off Route 9.

"Emergency," I told her. "Number two."

Moral stopped and leaned her hike against the nearest
tree. "JIISt give me a minute, sweetie," she said and began
loosening her helmet.

I didn't have a minute. I had ten seconds, tops.

Rummage, rummage, rummage through the knapsack.
My mother was sure she'd packed those paper towels. She
was positive.... She could swear it....

Too late! I was staggering through the woods like a rabid
hear, unzipping my jeans and yanking them down around
my knees. I was squatting, before I even found a tree. I was
making noises that no human being should make.

It was pure torture.

If Ashley Barnum thinks I'm ever trying Ex-Lax again,
she is insane.

My mother tucked me into bed with cool hands. She put
a tray on my bedside table, some kind of broth and a stack
of crackers. She sat on the edge of my bed and pulled the
covers up to my armpits. "Feel better?"

I held up my hand to make the so-so sign.

"Any idea why your tummy's so upset?"

I did my best move: the shoulder shrug.

"Isabelle. A little feedback, please."

Just then a wave of cramps hit me. I pulled my knees
into my chest and moaned.

"Belle? Honey.' Do you need to use the toilet again?"

I didn't answer, I just tore off the covers and sprinted
down the hall to the bathroom. I made it just in time. I
stayed on the toilet for a long, long while. That gave me
time to think.

When I got back to my room, Morn was still there, sitting on the edge of my bed.

I tried to make my voice cheery. "Well, that explains it!
I just got my period!"

My mother held back the covers so I could crawl into
bed again.

I babbled on. "You know, Mom, your period can really
upset your stomach. I learned all about it in Health."

She nodded and handed me a cup with a bendy straw
in it. "Take small sips," she said.

I swallowed. Ginger ale.

"What did you eat last night at Ashley's?" my mother
asked. "Remember our deal about cutting back on junk? I
hope you didn't have a lot of junk, Isabelle."

"I didn't."

"Anything that might upset your stomach? Anything
rich? Ice cream?"

"Morn," I said. "I didn't eat anything." Just thinking
about everything we ate made me want to run to the bathroom all over again.

"I thought you were having dinner there."

"I mean I didn't eat any junk. It's just period cramps.
Honest."

My mother leaned her head to one side and looked at
me.

"Although . . ." I said, wrinkling my brow like I was
thinking hard, "I did have this chicken marsala thing.
And you know what they say about undercooked chicken.
I could have a very slight case of food poisoning."

Mom reached out to palm my forehead. "You are a
little warm," she said.

"I feel a little warm," I said.

Even though I knew for a fact that Gregory-the-Cook
would never poorly handle his chicken, maybe if she
thought it was food poisoning she would stop asking so
many questions.

"I should call Dr. Atlas," Mom said, "just to be safe."

"Oh no," I told her. "That's okay. Really. I'm feeling
better already. See? I'm sitting up."

"Well. .."

I almost had her. I took the tiniest spoonful of broth
and dipped my tongue in it. "This is really good, Mom.
Did you make it from scratch?"

"All right, Isabelle," my mother sighed, leaning over
to kiss my forehead. "I'm going to take your word on this
one. But if you start to feel worse, even by a millimeter, I'm
taking you in. Deal?"

"Deal."

Around five, someone knocked on my door. It was Ape
Face. Even though I didn't say she could come in, she
marched right over to the bed and handed me a piece of orange paper cut into the shape of a sun. The glitter glue
was still wet.

I gave her a nod, which was more of a Get Lost than a
Thank You. But was she going to take the hint and leave?
Oh no. Not Ape Face.

"Food poisoning," she said, like she was impressed.
"That's had."

I shrugged.

"The runs?" she asked.

"Uh-huh."

Naturally, she kept on going. Ape Face proceeded to
tell me about this one time she had the runs, when she ate
approximately five thousand grapes at a class picnic. For
extra drama, she clutched her stomach and made farting
sounds out of the side of her mouth. "I'ni serious, Belly. I
was, like, exploding with grape juice. I was a regular grape
juice factory."

"Listen, April," I said. "This is not exactly what I need
to hear right now."

"Oh," she said. "Okay. Do you feel any better yet?"

"Not really," I said, which was the truth.

Then Ape Face plopped herself right down next to me.
"Swath over," she said.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting," said Ape Face.

"I can see that. Did you think I invited you, or ... ?"

Ape Face didn't say anything. She picked up a piece of
my blanket and rubbed it between her fingers.

"Well?" I said.

"Isabelle?" Ape Face said. Her voice sounded shy, not
like her usual voice.

"What!"

"I know you're still mad at me and everything, and
well, I don't blame you. I really shouldn't have told on
you.

"No," I said. "YOU shouldn't have."

"I know." She didn't look directly at me, so I kind of
got that she meant it.

"Okay then," I said, meaning, You can leave now.

She didn't go anywhere though. She kept on sitting on
my bed, rubbing my blanket between her fingers. Finally
she said, "Belly?"

"What, Ape Face?" I said.

"Don't call me that," she said. "I hate it."

"Well, don't call me Belly."

"Fine.... Isabelle?"

"What, April? Spit it out, will you?"

Ape Face wouldn't look at me. She looked at the wall
and said, "I have to do this project. You know, for school?
It's this family tree thing. We need to write about everybody. And we need to have photos. So ..."

I knew what was coming. It made me want to jam a pillow over Ape Face's big mouth to keep her quiet.

"I need your help, Isabelle," April said. "With the
Daddy part. I mean ... what do I do?"

I closed my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, she would go away. We could pretend this Conversation never happened.

Here's the weird thing, on the day of the funeral April
cried and cried. My mother didn't cry at all, and neither
did I, but April wouldn't stop bawling. So how come now
she can just talk about him like it's nothing?

"Isabelle? ... Hellooo?"

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"I didn't know who else to ask," said Ape Face. "I
thought maybe you'd have some photos of him."

I shifted my position on the bed, bringing my knees up
to my chest. "You thought wrong."

"Oh," said Ape Face. "Okay."

I closed my eyes again, but I could feel her looking at
Inc.

"Isabelle?" she said softly. "Do you think she threw
them all out, the pictures?"

I shook my head. It was easier than answering.

"Where do you think they are?"

I looked at her then. "How should I know?" I knew I
sounded mean, but I didn't care. "Ask her yourself."

"God, Isabelle," she said. "Bite my head off, why don't
you.

I closed my eyes.

"I only wanted some help."

I pulled a pillow over my face. The cool pressure felt
good.

Ape Face got off the bed. She walked over to the door
and just stood there. I could hear her breathing. All I
wanted her to do was leave.

"Isabelle?"

Silence.

"You're not the only one, you know," she said softly. "I
miss him too."

I TOLD NOLA AND GEORGINE about having to
spend the weekend in bed. "I haven't moved in t'. enty-
tour hours," I said. "Except to run to the bathroom."

"Rough," said Georgie.

Nola said, "I'm sorry, Isabelle. I wish you could come
over and do homework with us."

"Yeah," I said.

It was Sunday afternoon, and we were all three talking on the phone -me from my bed, the two of them from
Nola's house. I could picture them exactly. Nola would he sitting cross-legged on the green corduroy couch in
her living room, twirling a piece of long brown hair with
one hand and holding the phone with the other. Georgie
would he lying belly down on the yellow rag rug in Nola's
room, bushy eyebrows scrunched together tight, trying to
talk and do her math homework at the same time.