Perfect Girl - Weebly
Perfect Girl - Weebly Perfect Girl - Weebly
pretty hair, Aunt Marty’s white teeth, warm memories of Mr. Arthur, and the cool sensation of my delicious-secret underpants make me feel happy to be right where I belong: in Odessa, Delaware, with everyone I love. A trumpet blast announces the beginning of the parade. Mr. Perwit leaps to his feet and shouts, “Follow me, Odessans!” just as Mr. Arthur had for the past gazillion years. Wiping the syrup from their chins, the whole town stands and follows. Suddenly, Mom yells, “Wait!” I stop. Everyone else stops, too. Stunned, we watch my mother race out the back door of the firehouse. “Where is she going?” Mr. Galloway asks me. I have no idea. Mrs. Fannerife whispers, “Perhaps she needs to use the little girls’ room.” Then she adds, “I don’t like to use anyone else’s restroom, either.” As suddenly as she disappeared, Mom reappears, breathless, holding a shopping bag. She opens it and pulls out a hat. Everyone applauds. Years ago, Mom knit Mr. Arthur a peach-colored top hat to wear in the parade. And every year, he wore it perched on top of his head, at the front of the parade, while he pumped the Grand Marshal’s scepter like an oil derrick. “He would want you to have it,” Mom says, as she places the freshly washed hat on Mr. Perwit’s (unfortunately, 186
much smaller) head. “So do I.” Mr. Perwit whirls around, the peach top hat settling comically on his ears. Holding the scepter high, he shouts, “Now, follow me, Odessans!” Happily, we all strut outside. It seems to be over as soon as it begins. The marching band barely finishes one round of “Our Delaware” before Mr. Perwit reaches the end of Main Street. He circles around and marches straight back to the firehouse, the band’s military formation not surviving the turn. Celeste, Frankie, and five other girls from Middletown jiggle pom-poms in the parade. Toddlers waddle behind them wearing stuffed orange pillowcases sewn into round peach shapes. Most of them wander off to the sidelines as soon as they spot their parents. Bringing up the rear, like a Barbie doll and her Ken, are Jenna and Perry. Both are smiling. Jenna waves. They walk together, awkwardly, but somehow in sync. “Are you okay?” Aunt Marty asks me softly, watching me watch Perry. I surprise myself with the answer. “Yeah,” I say. Looking at Perry fills me with a longing for someone else. Someone truly right for me. Seeing Perry with Jenna confirms the feeling: Perry Gould will always be one of my very best friends. Amazingly, that’s okay. Suddenly, as if my legs are moving on their own, I leap 187
- 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 and 190: As I look at my mother standing the
- Page 191 and 192: This year, three weeks after Mr. Ar
- Page 193: last pool of syrup with my last for
- 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
pretty hair, Aunt Marty’s white teeth, warm memories of<br />
Mr. Arthur, and the cool sensation of my delicious-secret<br />
underpants make me feel happy to be right where I belong:<br />
in Odessa, Delaware, with everyone I love.<br />
A trumpet blast announces the beginning of the parade. Mr.<br />
Perwit leaps to his feet and shouts, “Follow me, Odessans!”<br />
just as Mr. Arthur had for the past gazillion years. Wiping<br />
the syrup from their chins, the whole town stands and follows.<br />
Suddenly, Mom yells, “Wait!”<br />
I stop. Everyone else stops, too. Stunned, we watch my<br />
mother race out the back door of the firehouse.<br />
“Where is she going?” Mr. Galloway asks me.<br />
I have no idea.<br />
Mrs. Fannerife whispers, “Perhaps she needs to use the<br />
little girls’ room.” Then she adds, “I don’t like to use anyone<br />
else’s restroom, either.”<br />
As suddenly as she disappeared, Mom reappears, breathless,<br />
holding a shopping bag. She opens it and pulls out a<br />
hat. Everyone applauds.<br />
Years ago, Mom knit Mr. Arthur a peach-colored top<br />
hat to wear in the parade. And every year, he wore it<br />
perched on top of his head, at the front of the parade, while<br />
he pumped the Grand Marshal’s scepter like an oil derrick.<br />
“He would want you to have it,” Mom says, as she<br />
places the freshly washed hat on Mr. Perwit’s (unfortunately,<br />
186