How To Be A Perfect Girl (6 page)

“Hold up!” Young called; Val paused, and
then realized he must be talking to someone else. She kept walking
until a hand grabbed her shoulder.

“What?” she asked as she turned to find
Porter holding her.

“I wanted to apologize for making fun of
you,” Porter said, “I think I—“ he smiled, “—I mean, we, as a
class—may have been a bit too harsh.”

“Really?” Val folded her arms and stared up
at Young.

“Ok, I know we were pretty harsh. But you
have to understand—“

“Understand what?” Val cut him off.

“You are pretty easy to make fun of.”

“Am not!”

Young imitated Val throwing a pass, “It’s no
wonder why your passes always miss.”

“Look, if you just waited for me to make fun
of me some more, this conversation’s over,” Val started to walk
away.

“I really am sorry. I feel like I kinda
instigated the whole thing, and so I’m a little responsible. Maybe
I could make up for it by taking you out to lunch?”

Val scoffed, “As if. I’m not allowed to date
until I’m old enough to drive, and even if I was—“

“This wouldn’t be a date,” Young cut in,
“We’d just be hanging out. I have a girlfriend already, so I’m not
looking.”

“Alright, Young,” Val wasn’t going to turn
down a free meal, or a chance to get away from Palm Lake for even
an hour.

“Great! When do you have off today?”

“Fifth.”

Young frowned, “That’s no good. I have
physics fifth, and I’m already falling behind. How about tomorrow?
I don’t have physics on Fridays.”

“Tomorrow would work just fine,” Valentina
nodded and started to walk away again.

“Young isn’t my actual name, you know,”
Young said, “It’s just my last name. My first name’s Porter.”

Val turned around, “Oh, cool. Well, see you
tomorrow, Porter.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Val’s next class was Homeroom. Thursday was
the first “normal schedule” day to include Homeroom; Val wasn’t
exactly excited for it, but supposed the extra half-period could be
useful. She had some Geography homework to get started on.

Val didn’t get to work on her homework,
however, as her Homeroom teacher announced they were headed to the
theater as soon as everyone arrived. Val waited for the rest of the
class to arrive; she tried pulling out a notebook to doodle in to
pass the time, but quickly got bored with it. Instead, she watched
the door, searching for familiar faces. Carrie walked into the
room, looking just as shy as ever. Val waved at the girl; they’d
become friends, owing to the fact that they shared two periods with
each other every day.

“Alright, looks like everyone’s here,” Ms.
Hughes, Val’s Homeroom teacher, had dyed-blonde hair and an
excessive amount of freckles. When she spoke, she looked at the
floor or the back of the room, hardly making eye contact with her
students. “When the bell rings, we’ll go to the theater.”

It took almost two minutes for the bell to
ring; during that time Val had to endure the crude humor of three
boys sitting in the corner a few desks away, none of whom she
recognized. She tried glaring at them, and—when that didn’t
work—she decided to say something. “Seriously, what are you guys,
like five?”

Two of the boys—the one with beady eyes and
the well-tanned one—quieted. The third boy, however, turned to face
Val, a smirk on his face; his lupine features made the expression
seem all the more menacing. “Excuse me, when did we invite you to
be a part of this conversation?”

“Well—“ Val had no good answer, “—I’m
sitting right next to you—“

“So what?” the wolf-faced boy asked, “That
doesn’t give you a right to interrupt our conversation.”

Val was getting ready to argue until Carrie
tugged on her arm. “Yeah?” she turned toward her friend.

“Time to go,” Carrie said; looking around,
Val realized Carrie had a point. The rest of their class was
already filing out the door, beginning the short trek to the
theater. If the two girls didn’t leave immediately, they’d probably
be stuck sitting next to the boys Val had just antagonized. They
got up and followed the rest of the class out; Val wanted to take
her bag, but Miss Hughes made her leave it.

Seating in the theater was decided primarily
by who wanted to sit next to whom. Val chose a seat near a group of
Student Gov students—two of the three Trio members were sitting a
few chairs away from Aiden and Noah—and Carrie sat next to her.

There was no easy way to discern the purpose
of this assembly; the stage was practically empty and the curtains
had not been drawn to provide a backdrop for a PowerPoint
presentation, the way they had been on Monday when the
administrators went over clubs at the school.

“Oh damn, it’s the nosy girl from our
class,” Val heard behind her. She turned in her seat to find the
three boys from her homeroom sitting one row up. The wolf-faced one
waved, “Your thoughts, Miss Longnose?”

“I don’t have a long nose!” Val
retorted.

“Of course not,” the boy winked, “I’m sure
where you come from it’s completely normal to have a nose so long
you could be a stand-in for the Wicked Witch of the West.” The boys
all howled with laughter.

“Huh?” was all Val could
say;
what is that even supposed to
mean?

“Let me break it down for you,” the
wolf-faced boy said; he pantomimed a Pinocchio nose growing from
his face, “You—have—such—a—long—nose—that—woodpeckers—envy—you.”
More laughter.

“Hey! Leave her alone Dylan!” Val groaned;
it was Keenan who’d spoken, and from the looks of it he was ready
for a fight. From the corner of her eye, she could see a teacher
trying to gain everyone’s attention.

The wolf-faced
boy—Dylan—turned to Keenan with a smile, “Or you’ll do what,
charity case? If you throw a single punch, you’ll be out of here
before I could hit you back. The only reason you’re here is because
your Mommy got a job
way
above her status.”

Keenan tried to make his way to Dylan’s
seat, but Alex pulled him down into a chair. “Remember last year,
Dylan?” Alex asked.

Dylan blanched and leaned back wordlessly.
Val wondered what could possibly have happened last year that would
shut the loud-mouth up. Whatever it was, she was grateful to Alex
for interceding—she couldn’t help but feel it would have been her
fault if Keenan had fought Dylan over making fun of her nose.

The assembly itself was exceedingly
boring—Miss Stevens talked about how freshman had the most
important role in the school. “After all,” she said, “In a few
short years you’ll be the school’s leaders, and between now and
then you have to learn what that means.”

The bell that signaled the end of homeroom
interrupted Miss Stevens; she stopped midsentence and dismissed the
students to retrieve their stuff from their respective rooms and
then head to third period classes. For Val that meant Italian,
which was fortuitous—she wanted to ask Keenan what had happened
last year and since they shared the class it would be the perfect
opportunity.

Keenan didn’t show up to the next class,
though—Val saved a seat for him beside her, but he never arrived to
occupy it. She wondered where he was, but once they started in on
conjugation tables she gave up on waiting for him and focused on
the class. It was probably best that she wouldn’t spend the whole
period talking—conjugation was a hard skill to learn, especially
conjugation in another language, and it required all of her
attention just to keep up with the rest of the class.

The next few classes were relatively
uneventful, excluding a minor incident at lunch where one senior
ran through the cafeteria in a banana costume—Val had no idea
why—and was finally tackled by a security guard.

Val was surprised to find Keenan sitting in
his usual spot in Chemistry; she’d arrived at the conclusion that
he must’ve taken the day off after what Dylan had said.

“Hey,” Val said concernedly, “Are you
alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” There
was no trace of sadness in Keenan’s voice, and he smiled as he
spoke.

“Cause of—uh—what Dylan said, and then you
weren’t in Italian class, and I dunno, it just seemed like—“ Val
let the sentence trail off.

Keenan laughed, “Dylan always says that kind
of stuff—he’s an asshole. As for Italian, Alex and I decided the
homeroom assembly would provide a good cover for a lunch run.”

“Wait, so I have a question—“ Val said.

“Yeah?”

“How old is Alex?”

“You mean cause he can drive and such?”
Keenan asked; Val nodded. “He’s fifteen—but his dad’s the police
chief, so he can get away with pretty much anything.”

“Really?”

“Are you asking about the police chief thing
or the getting away with things thing?”

“The police chief thing,” Val clarified.

“Oh, well then yeah, he really is. Or his
dad really is, or whatever. And it’s not like he’s an unsafe
driver.” Val didn’t share the sentiment. “He actually has his
learner’s license too, so I mean technically—“

“I thought even if you had your learner’s
license you weren’t allowed to take passengers,” Val
interjected.

“I suppose that—strictly speaking—you’re
right. But it’s a lot more fun being able to go places when I want,
so I don’t concern myself with the details.”

“It seems like a pretty important detail,”
Val criticized, “What if he got in an accident or something?”

Keenan shrugged; he started to say something
else, but just then Mr. Phillips finished setting up his experiment
for the day, and they knew from experience that once class had
started Jenny wouldn’t let them talk—she would shush them
repeatedly until they got tired of trying.

Class finished; Keenan was first out, since
he had nothing to put away. When Val stepped out of the classroom
he waved her over to the alcove where he was standing.

“Yeah?” Val asked, wondering why he’d waited
for her; normally they would’ve gone their separate ways after
class. Keenan was the type who liked to be free of school as soon
as possible; he wasn’t in any clubs or sports.

“I think we need to talk,” Keenan said.

Val nodded, “What happened last year?”

Keenan looked perplexed, “That’s not what I
meant. I meant we needed to talk about why you were crying when we
ran across you yesterday. It looked like you’d just—like your dog
had just died or something.”

“Oh—“ Val looked out a nearby window, “Would
you understand if I said I didn’t wanna talk about it?”

“I suppose. But I don’t really want to talk
about last year either, so—“

Val was torn; she really wanted to find out
why the simple reminder Alex had given Dylan had made him shut up,
and if there was anyone in the school she could trust to keep her
private problems private, Keenan was the one she had the most faith
in. But she would be seeing Alex in a bit anyway, so Val decided to
wait and see if she could get the story from him and avoid
revealing what had transpired with Mckayla the night before.

“I guess we don’t need to talk after all,”
Val concluded.

“Guess not,” Keenan started to walk
away.

“Wait,” Val said before he could take a
step, “You know you’re like one of my favorite people at this
school, right?”

“I know.”

“I really like you, and it was nice of you
to stand up for me this morning.”

“You don’t have a big nose, by the way, it’s
just about perfect.”

Val smiled, “Thank you. Well—“

“Will you go out with me?” the words came
out so fast Val wasn’t sure she’d heard them correctly.

“Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted to go out with me,”
Keenan said, looking straight at her.

Val’s eyes seemed glued to the ground—she
couldn’t look up, “Oh. Oh. Um, I’m not allowed to date anyone yet.
Not until I’m old enough to drive. Sorry.”

It occurred to her she’d never seen Keenan
truly hurt, until now. He swallowed hard, “Ok, I get it. Well, I
better get going. See you around.”

“Bye,” Val whispered. She
felt horrible, but had no idea why; after all, it wasn’t her
rule.
Why did he have to ask me
out
?

After Student Gov, Val went home; by the
time she hopped out of Dad’s car it was three-thirty. “I’m gonna go
practice,” Val announced; she changed into a pair of athletic
shorts and a sweat-wicking shirt, and traipsed out to her family’s
back yard.

One, two, three,
four,
Valentina counted each time she
kicked the soccer ball up into the air; when she was younger she’d
used knees, head, and feet to “juggle”—the practice of keeping a
soccer ball in the air for as long as possible without breaking any
of the rules of soccer—but she had since graduated to juggling with
only her feet. It required more concentration and skill, and Val
enjoyed the temporary break from her daily concerns; also, she
needed to practice, seeing how tryouts for Palm Lake’s team were a
little less than a week away. The first day of tryouts was next
Wednesday, and if things went well practices were every day but
Friday.

“Val, some of your, ahem, friends are here,”
Dad called from the back porch, “They said something about wanting
to study algebra.”

“They—what?” the ball hit the ground; Val
picked it up and walked over to Dad.

“They said they wanted to know if you wanted
to come study algebra with them. It’s the two boys who gave you a
ride yesterday.”

“Oh,” Val doubted they really wanted to
study algebra.

“Well, what should I tell them?”

“Tell them—“
Tell them I really ought to take a shower before I
do anything else,
Val thought. She felt
self-conscious about the sweat seeping from her body. “Tell them
I’ll be a few minutes.”