My Perfect Life (9 page)

“I just can’t believe it!” Carla continued to fume. “I really can’t believe it. They’re persecuting me, that’s what they’re doing. They’re like stalkers. It’s some kind of sick and twisted vendetta.” I could be mistaken of course, but it sounded like her make-up bag hit the sink at a rate of knots. “It’s jealousy, that’s what it is. Pure, chew-at-your-entrails jealousy.”

I checked that the camera was cocked and made a silent prayer.
Please let this work
… My hands were shaking. It didn’t seem possible that no one else could hear the racket my heart was making. All I could think of was how bad I was going to feel if Carla caught me.

Alma Vitters finally managed to squeeze a few words in. “We should talk to Dr Alsop,” she said indignantly. “This kind of thing has to be against the rules. I mean, we do live in a democracy after all.”

“They can’t get away with this,” agreed Tina Cherry. “They have to be made to pay.”

Marcia Conroy said, “If Dr Alsop wasn’t such a pushover they’d be thrown out of the election for a stunt like this.”

“I mean, just what are they trying to insinuate?” shrieked Carla. “That all I care about is shopping? Like none of them ever shop, right? Like the Pope doesn’t shop. And what’s wrong with shopping anyway? How can you have a strong economy and a successful nation if people don’t shop? If you ask me, shopping is a symptom of a truly democratic system. Nobody goes shopping in Cuba, do they? And why not? Because there isn’t anything to shop for!”

All the while this acute political analysis was going on I was trying to get myself in a position where I could rise just enough above the door and go “snap” the way Lola had instructed. Only it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

When my mother took yoga classes she could balance her whole weight on her hands for minutes at a time, but I was having a lot of trouble balancing my weight on my feet. Of course, my mother hadn’t been balancing on the rim of a toilet bowl with a camera. I grabbed for the coat hook, and that’s when things totally stopped going according to plan. The coat hook moved. I banged into the door.

One of the advantages of Carla Santini is that when she’s going full tilt in the centre of the stage the marines could be landing in the wings and no one would notice. No one heard me hit the door.

“I know whose idea this was,” Carla was saying. “It was Lola’s.”

I’ve always thought Lola was a pretty name, but on Carla’s lips it sounded like something that didn’t have legs and oozed slime.

“Sam Creek’s a Neanderthal. God knows he could never think of anything like this,” continued Carla.

A voice that didn’t belong to either Alma, Tina, or Marcia, said, “I don’t think Sam’s a Neanderthal. I think he’s kind of cute.”

There were a couple of sympathetic giggles, but not from Carla. Carla had dealt with Sam and dismissed him; she had already moved on.

“And as for Ella! Ella practically has to ask permission to breathe. There’s no way she could engineer something like this.”

I’d been breathing all right without permission up until then, but I nearly stopped completely when I heard my name.

“And Lola has her wrapped around her little finger,” chipped in Alma.

“Like a puppet on a string,” seconded Tina.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was more than that,” said Carla. She said it as if she knew something; something interesting.

I’d gone back to squatting on the rim, my mission forgotten, but I sat up a little taller at that. I didn’t want to miss Carla’s next sentence.

I wasn’t the only one who was curious.

“What do you mean?” asked Tina, Marcia and Alma.

Carla hesitated. “Well… I’m not saying I know anything for sure … It’s just – you know…”

When Carla Santini says she doesn’t know anything for sure it means that she doesn’t know anything at all.

“Oh, come on,” begged Tina, Alma and Marcia, as though Carla ever kept a secret from them.

“Well… I have heard some suspicions…” Carla paused again, possibly to put on her mascara; possibly to check her supply of venom. “I mean, they do spend an
awful
lot of time together, don’t they? They don’t really have any other friends… And neither of them has ever had a boyfriend…”

I gasped out loud. As far as innuendo went, it seemed to me that Lola came a pretty poor second to Carla Santini. No one heard me gasp, though; there were quite a few gasps out by the sinks.

The girl who didn’t think Sam was a Neanderthal butted in again. “I thought Lola was going out with Sam,” she said. “They spend a lot of time together, too. And I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

Carla laughed. “Maybe that’s what Lola wants everyone to think. Maybe he’s just a beard.”

“Beard?” said someone else. “Sam doesn’t have a beard.”

Carla was amused. “Oh, no, I mean
a beard
. You know, like a disguise.”

“You know… You may have something…” It was Marcia. “I mean, to never have a date … and…”

One of the other girls laughed, too, but her laugh was nervous. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You think Lola and Ella—”

I sat there like a cube of ice. What was my mother going to say when this rumour reached her ears? Because it would. Someone would tell her mother; and her mother would tell someone else’s mother; and someone else’s mother would tell my mother. My parents are liberal, but only to a very limited degree.

“It all makes sense, doesn’t it?” said Alma. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam Creek was that way, too. He’s never dated anyone either.”

“That’s because he never speaks to anyone,” said the girl who thought Sam was cute.

“That’s my point exactly,” said Carla. “He’s a social deviant.”

“What’s a social deviant?” asked the girl.

It wasn’t Carla who answered. It was someone who hadn’t spoken before.

“A social deviant is someone who doesn’t obey the laws of Carla Santini, that’s what a social deviant is,” said Lola Cep.

I was so surprised that I forgot about my mother and Carla being mad at me – all that stuff – and stood up with a lot more sureness now that I was motivated by curiosity and not paralyzed by terror.

Lola was leaning nonchalantly against the door (just out of camera range), and Carla was in the centre of the group at the sink. Carla had a lipstick raised in her hand but her lips were clamped shut.

“And as for suspicious liaisons…” Lola must have been listening for quite a while. “If there’s anyone who’s a couple around here, it isn’t me and Ella. I mean, think about it, Carla. You with your stunningly empirical mind can surely see the logic in this. Not only are you and Alma thicker than coagulated blood, but neither of you ever date the same person more than twice.” She laughed girlishly in a perfect imitation of Carla Santini at her most charming. “I mean, what do you think Freud would say about that? Talk about beards! You two could be the Smith Brothers.”

There was a spray of giggles, though none of them from Carla or her friends.

“Oh, how droll…” cooed Carla, and she turned back to the mirror to finish her make-up.

It was the perfect moment. Smooth and graceful as a trained killer, I rose over the door and pressed the button.

I couldn’t believe I’d done it! I wanted to whoop with joy. I’d done it and no one had noticed a thing. I crouched back down to wait for everyone to leave. I wanted to hug myself, but I was afraid I’d fall off the toilet. So I gave the camera a kiss.

Which was when I realized I’d left the lens cap on.

“Let’s look on the bright side,” Lola said later. “At least you didn’t fall down the bowl.”

The
call from Dr Alsop came right at the start of English. I’d never been called to the Principal’s office before, and I didn’t want to go. Lola, of course, wanted to go, but Mrs Baggoli wouldn’t let her.

“I was told to send Ella, not Ella and Lola,” said Mrs Baggoli. She gave Lola a half-smile. “And, unlike some of us, I usually try to do as I’m told.”

“It’s no big deal,” whispered Lola. “It’ll be about the posters. You’ll be fine.”

I must have looked like Oedipus when he realized he’d made a major marital mistake because Mrs Baggoli gave me a whole smile. “I think it has something to do with the election,” she reassured me.

Everybody watched me gather my stuff together and leave the room.

I knew I wasn’t really in trouble, but I felt like I was. Sam was waiting for me by the main desk. He was smiling. Sam has spent more time in Dr Alsop’s office than anyone except Dr Alsop, so this was nothing new for him.

“Cheer up,” Sam teased. “They’re not going to hang you.”

What an optimist.

“Sam! Ella!” Dr Alsop got to his feet as Ms Littlemoon opened the door. “Come on in.” He gestured to the two empty chairs facing his desk. “Take a seat. Take a seat.”

There were six visitor’s chairs in Dr Alsop’s office. Four of them were already occupied by Carla Santini, Alma Vitters, Morty Slinger and Farley Brewbaker. Mercifully, Carla had left the balloons outside.

“I’m sorry to have to take you out of class,” Dr Alsop apologized, “but Carla and Alma have a complaint about how the election’s being run, and I thought that all the candidates should hear it, too.”

Sam and I sat down. I perched uncomfortably on the edge of my chair with my hands on my lap. Sam stretched his legs out and dropped his books on the floor with a thud.

Morty and Farley gave us a can-you-believe-this look, but Carla and Alma ignored us and kept their eyes firmly fixed on Dr Alsop. Carla wasn’t going to let Dr Alsop know how angry she was; she was playing the innocent victim for all she was worth – which is quite a lot. Alma had her vague, suits-all-occasions smile on her face, but Carla’s expression was earnest and concerned. I didn’t know if it was true of politicians, but with Carla this was a sign that she was about to start throwing the cow manure around.

Dr Alsop plopped back in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. “Carla…” He gave her a fatherly smile. “If you’d like to tell us what’s bothering you?”

It took her a few seconds to get going. She sighed. She shrugged. She twisted a strand of hair around one finger. She crossed her legs. She looked at Dr Alsop, and then at Alma, and then to heaven (or at least to the ceiling). She said, “Um…” and “Well…” and sighed some more.

“Christ,” whispered Sam. “It’s like warming up an old car in winter.”

Dr Alsop has been a teacher for decades. He could see the anguish in Carla’s face. He knew this was an awkward situation for her; and a difficult one.

“Carla?” Dr Alsop prompted. His tone was encouraging.

“Well…” Carla sighed. “You know how I hate to make a big production out of things—” Dr Alsop, bless him, nodded. “Well … it’s just that Alma and I are upset by Ella and Sam’s new posters. Very upset.” She looked over at Alma. “Isn’t that true?”

Alma said it was true.

Carla continued to look as if her nails were being pulled out. “If it was just us, Dr Alsop, we would have let it go – I mean, who has time to get involved in all this petty back-biting? – but several people have asked me about it already, and they’re all very shocked, too.”

Dr Alsop had been nodding along, looking thoughtful, as a man with all his experience would. Now he said, “And why is that?”

There was a flicker of annoyance in Carla’s eyes but it didn’t touch her voice or the gallows-smile she turned on Dr Alsop. “Excuse me?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen the posters in question,” said Dr Alsop. “Perhaps you could tell me what you find so offensive about them.”

Carla explained. She was humble and she was baffled; she couldn’t understand why anyone would do a thing like this to her. Our posters made her appear self-centred and shallow. They made her seem unconcerned about the problems of the world.

“As you know, Dr Alsop, nothing could be farther from the truth,” concluded Carla. “I mean, my community service record speaks for itself. And if you remember, last year I was given a special award from the Chamber of Commerce.”

Dr Alsop remembered. “I don’t suppose you have a sample of these posters with you?”

Do trees have leaves?

“Yes, Dr Alsop, I do.” Carla reached into her book bag and pulled out Exhibit A. “Here.”

It was a photograph of Carla and Alma on the main street of Dellwood, their arms filled with shopping and their phones pressed against their ears. Under it was the caption:

WHERE WILL THEY LEAD US?

Beneath that, in smaller letters it said:

VOTE GERARD AND CREEK FOR A
NEW DIRECTION.

Dr Alsop gazed at the poster with a bewildered smile. And then he gazed at Carla with a bewildered smile. “I don’t understand. Where is Ella and Sam’s poster?”

Carla’s eyebrows arched shrilly. “That’s it, Dr Alsop. See at the bottom, where it says ‘Vote Gerard and Creek?’”

“Good God!” Dr Alsop laughed sheepishly. “I’ve seen these. I thought these were your posters, Carla.” He laughed again. “Well, what do you know about that?”

“But don’t you think it’s outrageous?” Carla demanded. “Do you see what I mean?”

Morty and Farley rolled their eyes.

Dr Alsop looked at me. “Ella? What do you have to say about this?”

“Well…” I licked my lips and took another gulp of air. I felt like I was on trial.
Don’t start apologizing
, I told myself.
Whatever you do, don’t do that…
“Well, I’m really sorry if—”

“Oh, come on, Carla,” cut in Sam. “You’re going way over the top on this, and you know it. It’s no big deal.” He turned to Dr Alsop. “Carla’s just pissed off because it’s cleverer than anything she’s come up with.” He grinned in the direction of Carla and Alma. “And more practical than balloons.”

Dr Alsop looked like he was about to smile, but Carla turned to him too, and he raised a fist to his mouth and coughed instead. His voice was gentle and placating, like a psychiatrist trying to talk a patient down from a ledge. “I understand, Carla – given your outstanding record – that you’re upset by what you perceive as—”

“It’s not what I perceive,” Carla corrected him. Carla Santini would have interrupted Christ during the Sermon on the Mount. “It’s what it
says.
”