Perfect Girl - Weebly

Arthur turned into a puppy. I kept waiting for him to curl
up on Aunt Marty’s lap, roll over, and beg her to tickle his
tummy in that spot that makes his leg go nuts.
“So,” I say to Perry, as the bus rumbles toward Odessa, “I’m
here for you if you ever want to talk.”
Frantically scanning my memory for Aunt Marty’s
advice in Fabrique, I remember that she once wrote, “It’s not
that guys don’t talk, girls don’t listen.”
Perry looks at me and says, “Thanks.”
“And, um, it doesn’t bother me that you like astronomy,”
I say, remembering something about accepting guys
for who they are, not who you want them to be.
Perry glares. “Gee, that’s mighty generous of you,
Ruthie.”
“I mean, if you ever feel like you want to cry, that would
be okay with me.”
“Cry?”
“You know, uh, if you feel like being emotional. Other
girls lie about it, but not me. I can handle tears. I can cope
with deep feelings.”
Perry blinks. “Ruthie, you are seriously warped.”
“What I’m saying is—”
“Define photosphere.”
“Huh?”
Looking down, I notice Perry has pulled his iQuest
handheld computer out of his baggy pants pocket. He pops
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