Perfect Girl - Weebly
Perfect Girl - Weebly Perfect Girl - Weebly
“I’m only going to say this once, Ruthie,” she said. “I have a very good reason for keeping you away from my sister. One day, I’ll tell you what it is. And I will decide when the timing is right. Not you. I don’t want to hear about Martha or Richard or New York or Fabrique. You are forbidden to call or write them. Do you understand me?” “But, Mom, I—” “Do you understand me?” I knew that stony look. Mount Mommore. There was no budging her. “I mean it, Ruthie. My sister is dead to me.” “Why does she have to be dead to me?” Mom started the car and pulled back onto the highway. “Because that’s the way it is,” she said. Then she refused to say anything more. For the rest of the way, my mother stared out the windshield, her fists tight on the steering wheel. I never mentioned my aunt Marty again. Not to my mother, anyway. But I read Fabrique every month in the Middletown Wawa near school. Mr. Shabala, the owner, keeps saying, “This isn’t a library!” but he doesn’t kick me out because he knows I’ll just go to the Pathmark down the street. Celeste, Frankie, and I also dream of turning eighteen and taking a train to New York and eating sushi on Aunt Marty’s balcony. We plan to stay up all night so we can see for ourselves what the city looks like when everyone really is asleep. 46
Far back in the corner of my closet, I still have my sparkly sandals. Secretly, I wore them until my toes hung so far over the front that they looked ridiculous. They are, by far, my favorite possession. If Mom thought she could control my mind, she was totally mistaken. Aunt Marty may be dead to her, but she’s alive and perfect in my heart. In the three years since I’ve seen her, my aunt—New York’s Goddess of Love—has become a Goddess to me, too. If my mother thought I would stop thinking about Aunt Marty, stop wanting to be her, she was as wrong as she was to think I’d stay in Odessa all my life. 47
- Page 3: Mary Hogan
- Page 6 and 7: 15 IF AUNT MARTY WEREN’T SMACK IN
- Page 9 and 10: SHE WALKS INTO CLASS TEN MINUTES AF
- Page 11 and 12: “DUCK.” That’s the first word
- Page 13 and 14: “Wasn’t the president’s daugh
- Page 15 and 16: “If it isn’t P. Nerdy in his ga
- Page 17 and 18: IT WAS DELICIOUSLY WARM OUT, ONE OF
- Page 19 and 20: The two of us were trapped in a mat
- Page 21 and 22: you see all four of them? They’re
- Page 23 and 24: MOM HAS HER FEET PROPPED UP ON OUR
- Page 25 and 26: Mom—her kinky reddish-gray curls
- Page 27 and 28: ping powerhouse, Odessa, Delaware,
- Page 29 and 30: when I’m in love with a boy who h
- Page 31 and 32: four, but it felt like forty. We le
- Page 33 and 34: a giant looping ramp. Suddenly, I s
- Page 35 and 36: and Destruction” lectures. “Eve
- Page 37 and 38: Before I could figure out what to s
- Page 39 and 40: I laughed, too. Tried to look as ca
- Page 41 and 42: “Do you have these in red?” she
- Page 43 and 44: what everyone else did. “These cr
- Page 45 and 46: sure they’d been ironed. Everythi
- Page 47 and 48: in front of other males, about not
- Page 49 and 50: “WE CAME ALL THIS WAY FOR A DAY ?
- Page 51 and 52: “Who told you?” my mother asked
- Page 53: The last thing I saw were Aunt Mart
- Page 57 and 58: emember it. Like the soft, warm com
- Page 59 and 60: asking Aunt Marty for advice about
- Page 61 and 62: un both hands down the front of her
- Page 63 and 64: Mom is speechless. Her hair is a kn
- Page 65 and 66: She slams the freezer door shut in
- Page 67 and 68: WE’RE TOO LATE. BY THE TIME I BRI
- Page 69 and 70: “We have company!” he exclaims.
- Page 71 and 72: ack). He’d round a corner, wearin
- Page 73 and 74: I’d say, “Sure,” without worr
- Page 75 and 76: I wiggle my freshly painted toenail
- Page 77 and 78: “Thanks,” I say, calling after
- Page 79 and 80: But—and this is a humongous but
- Page 81 and 82: Arthur turned into a puppy. I kept
- Page 83 and 84: IF AUNT MARTY WEREN’T SMACK IN TH
- Page 85 and 86: the wall that separates the living
- Page 87 and 88: about your birth.” “What have y
- Page 89 and 90: “She was the only member of my fa
- Page 91 and 92: Quietly, she repeats, “There is o
- Page 93 and 94: Swiveling, she turns her back on me
- Page 95 and 96: corn. I want to bury my face in it
- Page 97 and 98: “Check this out,” Perry says, s
- Page 99 and 100: We sit. On the white couch. Like tw
- Page 101 and 102: Aunt Marty steps back and watches o
- Page 103 and 104: “I want my daughter to be prepare
Far back in the corner of my closet, I still have my<br />
sparkly sandals. Secretly, I wore them until my toes hung so<br />
far over the front that they looked ridiculous. They are, by<br />
far, my favorite possession.<br />
If Mom thought she could control my mind, she was<br />
totally mistaken. Aunt Marty may be dead to her, but she’s<br />
alive and perfect in my heart. In the three years since I’ve<br />
seen her, my aunt—New York’s Goddess of Love—has<br />
become a Goddess to me, too. If my mother thought I<br />
would stop thinking about Aunt Marty, stop wanting to be<br />
her, she was as wrong as she was to think I’d stay in Odessa<br />
all my life.<br />
47
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