Perfect Girl - Weebly
Perfect Girl - Weebly Perfect Girl - Weebly
ODESSA, LIKE MOST SMALL TOWNS, LOVES A PARADE. IT’S hilarious, when you think about it. The same people we’ve known all our lives march down the Main Street we see every day, past the houses everyone lives in. Most people are in the parade so there aren’t a lot of watchers and wavers. Which is why Mom and I have always stood on the sidelines. For Mr. Arthur. So he had someone to march for. 182
This year, three weeks after Mr. Arthur’s memorial, after school is out and summer has begun, the Peach Blossom Parade is back on. It’s the way he would have wanted it. Mr. Perwit was elected the new Grand Marshal of the Peach Blossom Parade. Well, not elected in the true definition of the word. He volunteered and nobody said no. The day before the parade, Mr. Sheeak and Kyle tied orange ribbons around the Dutch elms along Main Street. Walter Maynard and other kids from the Liberty High School Marching Band shined up their instruments. Mr. Galloway distributed sprigs of peach blossoms for the onlookers to wave. And Mrs. Fannerife baked chocolate chip cookies to sell. She had intended to bake miniature peach cobblers, she said, but she overslept. Around ten in the morning, on parade day, Mom, Aunt Marty, and I join the whole town—and much of Middletown—at the firehouse. Chief Rankin stands at the huge stove making pancakes for twenty-five cents each. The smell of vanilla and melted butter fills the air. I see her right away. Jenna. Dressed in a light orange skirt and white T-shirt, she looks like tangerine sorbet and whipped cream. She looks . . . perfect. “Fresh peach nectar!” Mrs. Latanza has set up a card table near the entrance and sells juice for a buck a cup. A cardboard sign taped to the table reads, ALL PROCEEDS BEN EFIT THE ODESSA HOMEOWNER’S ASSOCIATION. While Aunt 183
- Page 139 and 140: fill my daughter’s head with garb
- Page 141 and 142: “You don’t hate me, Fay. You ha
- Page 143 and 144: My mother moves even closer to me,
- Page 145 and 146: something in Wilmington, but the st
- Page 147 and 148: I can barely breathe. “You busy S
- Page 149 and 150: “Props?” “You know, setting s
- Page 151 and 152: your nose, one eyebrow or the other
- Page 153 and 154: “Tell your mother the truth.” M
- Page 155 and 156: THROUGH THE BUS WINDOW, WE BOTH WAT
- Page 157 and 158: “Let’s jam!” he shouts. The G
- Page 159 and 160: scope out each mouth-watering possi
- Page 161 and 162: “We’ll make it,” Perry says w
- Page 163 and 164: appears on the pay line, an astrona
- Page 165 and 166: “We can’t.” “We must!” I
- Page 167 and 168: completely. My body jingles like a
- Page 169 and 170: fantasies. The reality of it is . .
- Page 171 and 172: that. Things are flying smoothly ag
- Page 173 and 174: twenty minutes, then twenty-five. I
- Page 175 and 176: the blood throbbing through my temp
- Page 177 and 178: Aunt Marty brings my mother Little
- Page 179 and 180: speaks to the coroner about Mr. Art
- Page 181 and 182: emember most about Mr. Arthur. It d
- Page 183 and 184: “Me?” At that moment, I realize
- Page 185 and 186: of the talking.” Then she added,
- Page 187 and 188: my head: For fourteen years, I’ve
- Page 189: As I look at my mother standing the
- Page 193 and 194: last pool of syrup with my last for
- Page 195 and 196: much smaller) head. “So do I.”
- Page 197 and 198: WE HAVE ONE LAST FAMILY DINNER—TH
- Page 199 and 200: makeup somehow remains perfect), Au
- Page 201 and 202: in Dover Mall as often as Mom will
- Page 203 and 204: “Hey,” he says to me, nodding a
- Page 206 and 207: ETERNAL THANKS TO THE AMAZING Amand
- Page 208 and 209: THE SERIOUS KISS PRETTY FACE
- Page 210 and 211: Copyright PERFECT GIRL. Copyright
ODESSA, LIKE MOST SMALL TOWNS, LOVES A PARADE. IT’S<br />
hilarious, when you think about it. The same people we’ve<br />
known all our lives march down the Main Street we see<br />
every day, past the houses everyone lives in. Most people are<br />
in the parade so there aren’t a lot of watchers and wavers.<br />
Which is why Mom and I have always stood on the sidelines.<br />
For Mr. Arthur. So he had someone to march for.<br />
182
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