Perfect Girl - Weebly

though people sit in front of us, our heads are tilted back so
far we can’t see them. Any farther back in the theater, it
would be impossible to avoid seeing the tops of other
people’s heads. Any closer, we would be unable to see the
full screen. Row three is the perfect distance to truly experience
floating through the universe.
Through our 3-D glasses, the Space Station looks like a
huge sparkplug. Or, a robotic dragonfly. It’s both beautiful
and ugly, mechanical and a miracle. Inside, as I float past
other space sailors, I feel giddy. I wear red, white, and blue
socks. My hair hovers above my head, I do somersaults in
midair and sleep in a cocoon that hangs from the ceiling.
When I’m thirsty, I release a wiggly ball of water into the air
and catch it with my mouth.
I feel elated. Fearless. I don’t want the experience to end.
At that moment, in the darkness, I understand Perry in
a way I’ve never understood him before. Now, I know why
his focus is so often out of this world. In space, nothing feels
the same. Even though you are a tiny speck in a boundless
universe, in space, you don’t feel small. You feel invincible.
Sliding my 3-D glasses off my face, I turn my head and
gaze at the boy beside me. But he doesn’t notice. Perry
Gould is lost in space—exactly where he’s always wanted
to be.
As soon as we get out of the theater, Perry is a kid on
Christmas morning, a jackpot winner after the third seven
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