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Perfect Girl - Weebly

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emember it. Like the soft, warm comforter on her guest<br />

bed.<br />

“Has something happened to your mother?” she asks,<br />

alarmed.<br />

“No, no. She’s fine. Well, she’s crazy, but that’s normal.”<br />

My aunt’s laughter tickles my ears like tiny feathers.<br />

I’m finding it hard to breathe. I keep looking at the<br />

door, listening for footsteps. I’ve taken the pillow off my<br />

head, but I keep it close. If necessary, I’ll shove the phone<br />

into the pillowcase. Or, I’ll start calling Aunt Marty<br />

“Celeste” and explain later.<br />

“Are you okay?” Aunt Marty asks.<br />

I swallow. “No.”<br />

I hear the air leave my aunt’s body. “Oh, honey. What’s<br />

wrong?”<br />

“I . . . I . . .”<br />

“Are you hurt?”<br />

“No . . . I’m—it’s just—”<br />

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll help you.”<br />

Pressing my eyes closed, I take a deep breath. My throat<br />

is tight. My heart is thudding. My mouth is dry. I can’t get<br />

the words out, but I have to. It’s an emergency.<br />

“Oh, Aunt Marty,” I finally spit out, bursting into tears.<br />

“I’m in love!”<br />

49

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