Perfect (17 page)

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Authors: Ellen Hopkins

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Dating & Sex

BOOK: Perfect
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I can’t really tell—cereal boxes,

crumpled Keystone cans, somehow

make it to the kitchen, where
Chad’s actually studying.
Hey, bro. Thanks for bringing
dinner. Have a brewski.
He gulps a big swig of his own.

I go to the fridge, grab a beer,

sit across the cluttered table
from him, unwrap my sandwich.
He waits for me to say something,

but I’m not sure how to start.

Finally he jumps in.
You look
like you’re bulking up pretty
well. You ready for opening
day? Uncle Jeff said you rocked
during your exhibition game.

I take a giant bite, wash it down

with bitter beer. “I did okay.
But I’ve got to do better to
impress a Stanford scout.

I’m working my ass off.”

Work is a good thing, hence…
He points to books, stacked
tall on the table. Only one
is actually open, however.
Wanna tell me why you’re here?

To the point, which is probably

good. “Well, this is kind of hard
to talk about. Like embarrassing.”
Like maybe it was a mistake

to come. How do I say this?

He looks up from his sandwich,
studies my face, which must
be the color of pomegranates.
What? You got an STD or
something?
He shakes his head.

Fuck it. Just say it. “Not

an STD. I couldn’t get one
if I tried. See, the problem
is, I can’t get it up. Not even

when I really want to. Not

even when my girlfriend

takes her clothes off and
climbs all over me. I’m barely
eighteen, and my dick acts

like it’s eighty. What’s wrong?”

Chad grins.
Dude, you know
about ’roids and nut shrinkage,
right?
At my horrified grimace,
he says,
Too much artificial
testosterone makes the real
deal go away. That’s one
reason why you don’t want
to do too many cycles in a row.
Stop using, things should work
like they’re supposed to again.

Chad, Steroid Expert

Is also my supplier. And not

just mine. He underwrites
his living expenses dealing
illegal substances. Steroids

are just the tipping-off place.

I’m glad there’s a sound

explanation. Still, “So I can’t
have sex until I quit, or what?”
What about all those pro

athletes and their hot women?

Well, I wouldn’t say that
exactly. Haven’t you heard
of Viagra?
He’s got to be
kidding, Viagra is definitely
for eighty-year-old dicks, right?

I Leave Chad’s

With a pretty good beer buzz,

one more round of muscle
enhancers, plus a penis fixer.
Holy crap. But it’s just for

a little while. I also got a lecture

about not combining Viagra

with other drugs. About ’roids
and high blood pressure. About
probable acne, potential liver

or kidney problems, and (this is

a great one!) the remote

possibility of growing
breasts. About steroids
staying in your system for as

long as a year or more after

you quit them. Chad is quite

the lecturer, considering
he’s also the pusher. Guess
he doesn’t want to feel guilty

if I wind up needing a bra.

Personally, I Think

It’s all hype. Well, other than

the penis problem. And I guess
my skin has looked better.
That, at least, can be fixed

without resorting to pill popping.

I have to admit I’m curious

to see if the “little blue pill”
can fix me. If it can make me
some kind of sex superstar.

None of the times I’ve had

sex before were what you

might call memorable. Easy.
Fast. Not much in the way
of intensive foreplay. Nothing

like what you see in movies.

I’m a total amateur. Time

for some real practice, with
a little chemical assistance.
Now if only Cara is up for

it too, like the other night.

A Little Fuzzy

(Foamy?) around the edges,

I decide to wait until I get
home to give her a call.
I manage the icy drive without

incident, park mostly straight,

make my way inside. I’m pretty

much a lightweight drinker,
so the four beers I downed
at Chad’s have blunted my

motivation. Glad I already

ate, because as soon as Aunt
Mo hears me come in, she calls
from the kitchen,
We’re all at
the table. Were you going to
grace us with your presence?

She’s bitchy. I’m fuzzy.

A deadly combination.
“No,” I yell. “I don’t feel
so hot.” Not a lie. Suddenly

bed sounds like a good plan.

Andre

So Hot

Beneath her cool veneer,

she’s steaming. You’d think

she was thirty, not just

sixteen, and I can’t

help

but wonder how she learned

the dance of the cobra.

Sensuous. Dangerous.

Deadly venomous. And

I’m

the snake charmer who

snaps out of a trance

to find the serpent

has tricked him into

tumbling

under her spell. I swore

this wouldn’t happen.

Never believed it was

possible to fall so

hard.

Wish I Could Say

I’ve fallen for the perfect girl,

but that would be

a lie. Or at least a gross exaggeration.

There’s a lot about Jenna to love.

The way she looks,

of course, all curves and frothiness.

Cotton candy. Or cumulus clouds.

And when she turns

her focus on you, brother, you are king

and she is part lady-in-waiting, part

concubine. You want

to put her up on a pedestal, as long

as she’s naked. We have gotten

naked a time or two,

and Lord help me, that girl has shown

me things most grown women

would blush at.

All that stuff goes in the plus column.

In The Minus Column

Loitering beneath the sweet fluff,

the wide-eyed faux

innocence, is something hard. Maybe

even just a little bit scary. A fallen angel,

perhaps. A creature

of the heavens, surviving in earthly shadow.

I don’t see that part of her very often.

Just a bitchlike snap

at someone she might consider competition.

A misplaced remark, revealing under-

belly. But never directed

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