Plastic (7 page)

Leah glares at me. “I just told you. I took a line drive in the face. And then Dr. Myers put me back together. So I guess, technically, I did. But not on purpose.”

“That's awesome,” I say. “I mean, not that you got hurt. Awesome that you left your boobs alone. And you know how much I like boobs.” I'm babbling, and I can't stop a huge grin from spreading across my face. Something I did made a difference. That's no small thing.

She giggles again. “Stop making me laugh, you asshole. I'm still mad. You didn't trust me to make a good choice. You acted like I was a total dimwit.”

“But you were so excited about it, and I thought—”

“You thought I wouldn't listen to you if you weren't on
TV
? If you didn't picket my doctor's office?”

“All I wanted was for you to have the facts,” I say.

“I get that. But we're friends. Even if I'm mad at you, you can still send me an email or a text. You just went into full-on protest mode. It was…” She looks away, but not before I see the tears in her eyes.

“It was what?”

She turns back to me. “It was hurtful. Insulting. Embarrassing. Pick one.” Tears are running down her swollen face. I reach up to wipe them away, and she grabs my hand. “Don't touch. And don't start crying.” She sniffs and then moans. “Dr. Myers told me to ‘avoid crying.' It makes the swelling worse. And you can't blow your nose or anything.” She rummages around in her purse and finds a tissue, which she uses to dab at her face. “Ow, ow, ow. Don't laugh.”

“I'm not laughing,” I say. “I'm sorry, Leah. Really sorry. I didn't mean for it to get out of hand.”

“You know what else I'm pissed about?” she says.

I shake my head.

“I'm pissed that I didn't see Mike get arrested. That must have been so awesome. He's such a tool.”

“You think Mike's a tool?” Didn't everybody—especially girls—think Mike was a god?

She nods. “A high iq doesn't make you a great guy, you know. What you do with it is more important. And Mike's iq is just a waste. You're better than that.”

“I am?”

“Don't make me punch you,” my best friend says.

Chapter Fourteen

From: Daisy Frobisher

To: Jack Conroy

Sent: June 25, 2009

Subject: Thank you

Hi Jack,

I wanted to let you know I'm going home— back to Toronto to go to school. Yeah, I know—surfer-girl Daisy is kind of my alter ego. Fun for a while, but it's time to get real. Which means school and student loan debt, etc. My folks say I can stay with them. They're actually pretty cool—kinda like your mom and dad. I'm going to finish my degree in environmental studies. Only two more years. And then maybe a master's after that. There's a great co-op program here—maybe I can swing a co-op job out west. Come see you guys. Anyway, I wanted you to know how much you inspired me. I'm serious. When I saw how passionate you were about the whole plastic surgery thing, I just looked at Mike and asked myself what I was doing with him. He's a good guy, but sooooooo unfocused. Wish me luck and stay in touch. Or I'll see you on the news! LOL! XO Daisy

From: Mike Conroy

To: Jack Conroy

Sent: June 28, 2009

Subject: Aloha, Baby Bro

Sorry I didn't say goodbye, buddy. I had to split—therapy's just not my scene. And that Roberta chick? Scary. Mom and Dad were so freakin' intense about the whole thing. Tell them I'm sorry about the money. I'll pay it back. You should get your bony white ass out here sometime. Tons of chicks even hotter than Daisy, lots of awesome parties. Gotta run. My minutes are almost up. Later. Mike

From: Jared Conroy

To: Jack Conroy

Sent: August 1, 2009

Subject: Miss you guys

Jack,

Hope things have calmed down out there. Mom told me Mike took off. I'm not surprised, but I'm worried about your mom. She really hoped Mike would stick around, get his act together. Maybe next time, right? It's super hot and humid here. No air conditioning— just a big lazy ceiling fan. Tomorrow we're hiking into some village in the hills. Wish me luck. I know hiking's not your favorite thing, but I'd love it if you came to visit me sometime. Maybe when I go to Norway next year. I promise—no camping, no hiking, no outhouses. You could bring a friend along— someone to hang out with when I have to work. Think about it. Write when you can and take care of your mother. Love, Dad

From: Paula Morgan

To: Jack Conroy

Sent: August 15, 2009

Subject: Internship

Dear Jack,

I am writing to offer you a part-time student internship at VTV this fall. This is a new program, aimed at giving students such as yourself— motivated, intelligent, passionate—a chance to get some hands-on experience at a television station. You would be able to use your hours at the station as a credit in Media Studies. I have already cleared this with the principal at the Warren Academy. Ideally, I would like you to spend at least ten hours a week at the station or out in the field with reporters, videographers, etc. The position (which pays just above minimum wage) would start in the third week of September and run through until June. Please let me know if you are interested. All the best,
Paula Morgan

From: Jack Conroy

To: Leah James

Sent: August 15, 2009

Subject: Fallout

L,

You're not going to believe this! VTV just offered me a job—a student internship! The pay's garbage but who cares, right? Apparently my passion is inspiring—I have it in writing from two—count them, two— women. Plus, my dad wants me to come to Norway when he's there next year and he wants me to bring a friend. Pretty cool, huh? You and me and the fjords.

Come over after you finish work, okay? I've got lots of stuff to tell you. And I need your help with the retirement ceremony for the Big Book of Boobs. That book kick-started a lot of amazing things. I figure it deserves its own little altar—some incense, maybe a candle or two. I'm going to recite a poem or maybe read from the Kama Sutra…heh, heh, heh. You can help me shop for a new notebook. Crap. Now I have to research what kind of notebooks reporters use. What would we do without Google? See ya.
J

Acknowledgments

My thanks, as always, to Andrew Wooldridge for his support and his sense of humor. Dr. David Naysmith patiently answered my questions about cosmetic surgery and teens, lent me some large scary books about plastic surgery and let me play with some breast implants. A brilliant surgeon and a dedicated humanitarian, Dr. Naysmith is in no way the model for any of the bad doctors in
Plastic.
Any mistakes in the book, medical or otherwise, are entirely my own.

Sarah N. Harvey is an editor and author of other novels for teens, including
The Lit Report
,
Bull's Eye
and the upcoming
Better Off Dead
. Sarah lives in Victoria, British Columbia, and has never had cosmetic surgery.