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Authors: LaurenVDW

Tags: #celebrity, #high school, #obsession, #popular, #fame, #famous, #popularity, #clique

The Perfection Paradox (22 page)

BOOK: The Perfection Paradox
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Matt breathed
slowly as he held it in his hands. An odd sensation overcame
him.

He wanted to
put it back in the case and shove it as far to the back of the
closet as he could, to pretend he’d never seen it.

But another
part of him felt calm suddenly.

He finally
had a means of fighting back.

He thought of
Hunter. Of Taylor and Ryan.

He thought of
their smirks and the cold hollow feeling Matt felt in the pit of
his stomach every time he heard them holler abuse at
him.

Then he
thought about how much they’d bully him if he had this gun pointed
at them.

They
wouldn’t.

They’d cry
and squeal and beg for their lives.

The tables
would finally be turned.

What a relief
that would be after years of torment.

What was he
thinking
?

He was
a
good
person,
a
kind
person.

He wouldn’t
let Hunter and his friends destroy that.

He wouldn’t
fight fire with fire; he would fight them with something stronger,
something they would never understand.

Dignity.

27.

Hannah had
never been one to frequent school social events, so her parents’
confusion was justified when she decided to enter into the spirit
of senior year and attend Prom with Marie and Jessica.

Her mother
had even agreed to take her shopping at Rosewell’s most exclusive
thrift store, where Hannah had settled for a floral pink dress with
a puffed skirt that held its shape with a thick waterfall of
netting. Her mother had spent two hours meticulously arranging her
hair into an extravagant up-do.

The school
gym had been transformed for the Prom, decorations and banners
every colour of the rainbow hung from the ceiling and were draped
all over the walls. Confetti and streamers littered the floor and
tables.

Groups of
students stood around the dance floor nervously, glancing amongst
themselves, waiting for someone to suggest heading to the dance
floor so they could all join in. For the moment it looked too empty
and intimidating.

In one corner
a group of friends was taking pictures of themselves, showing off
their elegant attire.

Hannah could
sense the excitement of her peers; it was an electrifying buzz that
filled every body in the room.

It was odd
seeing her classmates, so comfortable in jeans and trainers,
dressed in sequin and jewel adorned gowns of soft silk and lace.
The timid patter of stilettos chiming against the cool hard floor
of the gymnasium became ordinary very quickly, as did the
overpowering odour of hairspray.

Hannah had
been asked to supervise Homecoming King and Queen ballots for a
part of the evening, and strode over to the voting table with Marie
and Jessica as soon as they arrived, feeling unusually
glamorous.

As
they took their seats in three extravagantly decorated
cafeteria chairs, Kennedy Blakewood, Brooke Kent and Alexandra
Cantonini swanned into the gym, accompanied by several Varsity
football players.

Kennedy’s
cream chiffon gown flowed down to the floor. It was simple, yet
somehow drew more attention than any of the exaggerated dresses or
garish jewellery her companions wore.

Brooke and
Alexandra looked fantastic in their own rights, but the difference
between them and Kennedy was like that of a rapidly burning match
and the eternal blazing sun. The match might have its uses, but
what was its power in comparison to the fiery orb that kept the
world alive.


I would
stare at myself all day long if I looked like her…” Marie whispered
under her breath.

She
was inimitable, unsurpassable; Hannah now knew what people
meant when they said people just had something extra, a "je ne
sais quoi" aura about them.

That
personified Kennedy better than any complimentary
words. 

Brooke
spotted the voting table and the whole group strode over, picking
up a leaflet and pen and scribbling their nominees.

Brooke’s hair
was piled atop her head in a severe bun, she’d lavished her lips
with deep red lipstick and the black lace panelled dress she had
chosen clung to her figure greedily.

Brooke was
the devil that perfectly contradicted Kennedy’s angelic dress and
natural features. Kennedy’s hair tumbled around her shoulders in
the most glamorously messy way possible, shining like the first
rays of sunlight on a summer’s day.

They handed
their votes to Hannah and Marie to put into the ballot box before
sauntering to the drinks stand.

Marie
unfolded the paper in her hand,


Hah! Brooke
Kent voted for herself… Unbelievable!” she scoffed.

She opened
the paper in her other hand “and so did Alexandra Cantonini! Those
girls are ridiculous!” she said, rolling her eyes.

Hannah slowly
unfolded the paper that Kennedy had handed her. The name

Janette Nielsen’
had been written in neat cursive handwriting.


Who’s
Janette Nielsen?” Hannah asked, perplexed, “Kennedy voted for
her”.

Marie’s jaw
dropped, “Janette Nielsen fell off her horse over summer and is
paralyzed from the waist down...
No
way
did Kennedy vote for
Janette!”

Marie glanced
at Jessica with a smug ‘
I told you
so’
expression.


I can’t
believe that. I bet Janette doesn’t even think Kennedy knows she
exists. God, everything in me wants to be jealous of her and hate
her, but I just can’t.” Marie mused.

Hannah
glanced across the room to where Kennedy stood, a glass of punch in
her manicured hand.

She wondered
what went on behind that pretty exterior. What esoteric thoughts
occupied her head, what she thought of when she was lying in bed at
night, trying to fall asleep? Was her whole world really as perfect
as it seemed, was it really so void of anything remotely
troublesome?

As their
shift drew to a close they wandered over to the refreshments table
on the other side of the dance floor.

Hannah
scooped a ladleful of punch into a plastic cup. Chunks of fruit
floated to the surface, colourful icebergs in an orange sea. She
sipped at the drink absent-mindedly and her face curdled as the
bitter taste of alcohol ravaged her taste buds. It seemed someone
had already emptied a bottle of some foul liquor into the punch
bowls. She glanced at the other refreshments tables dotted around
the gym, wondering if any of them had been spared.

Hunter stood
at one of them with three of his friends, wearing a slim fit navy
blue suit and light blue tie. As much as his character disgusted
her, Hannah couldn’t deny how handsome he was.

He was
discussing something under his breath with his
companions.

Schmidt,
another boy from the Varsity Football team, and with whom,
according to Marie, Hunter had a long-running and well-documented
rivalry, strode over to them with three cronies of his
own.

Hannah
couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Hunter seemed unable to
let Schmidt’s words simply fall upon deaf ears.

He drunk from
his punch glass slowly, glaring at Schmidt as he did so.

Schmidt said
something and smirked at Hunter, who raised his eyebrows
questioningly, visibly trying to hide the inherent rage everyone
around him could sense.

Schmidt
leaned closer to Hunter and uttered something softly.

Hunter threw
his plastic punch glass back on the table and launched himself
towards Schmidt.

He was
shouting now so Hannah could make out what he was
saying.


You stay the
fuck away from her!”

Schmidt had
stepped back and was letting Hunter’s friends do their best to
restrain him, the same arrogant smirk still lingered on his face,
further enraging Hunter.


You’re a
fucking idiot if you think I’m going to let you take her away from
me!
SHE’S MINE!”
Hunter shouted through his friends clenched arms.

Finally the
same blonde boy who had restrained Hunter at the house party
managed to calm him, and Hunter turned around, straightened his
suit and nodded his head to the refreshments table on the opposite
wall, indicating for his friends to follow. Hannah half expected
Hunter to turn around and launch himself at Schmidt again as he and
his pals mocked Hunter and his friends as they walked away, but he
didn’t, he just kept walking.

Hannah gazed
at Marie and Jessica with bulging eyes wide with interest. They
whispered under their breath, discussing, and Hannah felt a pang of
guilt deep in her gut.

What was she
doing?

She was no
better than the girls in the library that day.

 

28.

Emily had
been unsure if going to this house party was even a good idea. It
had taken all of her friends wit and charm to lure her to Taylor’s
house that Thursday evening.

The sun had
finally started shining again, and Taylor was not going to pass up
the opportunity to commemorate the pool his parents had built
during the unusually cold months of spring.

Emily hadn’t
spoken to Hunter since his outburst on Valentine’s Day.

The first few
days of ignoring him had been hard. Especially when she realized he
was ignoring her back. Every time she thought of it her eyes would
well up with tears and she’d find herself rushing to the nearest
bathroom.

She’d
imagined walking down the hall, a single tear rolling down her
cheek dramatically. Hunter would look up as he passed by and
realize the wrong he had done. He’d take her in his arms and
apologize, declare his love for her and
only
her.

Unfortunately, none of that rung true, and she especially
didn’t want Hunter to witness her single dramatic tear now that
she’d discovered she was an ugly crier.

In movies,
all the actresses looked painstakingly beautiful as they wept for
lost love, Emily just looked like someone had pepper-sprayed
her.

As Emily
strolled along the coral-coloured driveway of Taylor’s house, she
felt her stomach lurch nervously. She was not looking forward to
this evening one bit.

If Hunter had
damaged her confidence by talking to Kennedy while they had still
been friends, it would be even more excruciating to watch now that
she wasn’t in his life anymore.

The house was
packed already, even though it was barely passed 9pm.

Taylor’s
parents were out of town and he’d invited his friends to drop by
after school to make the most of the pool while it was still hot
outside.

Taylor’s
friends had come, and they’d brought their friends and their
friends friends. Most of the people in attendance already seemed to
be alcoholically incapacitated, there were people stumbling down
the hallway with such precision there might have been an earthquake
happening, while others attempted to walk through the doorway to
the kitchen only to buckle at the last second and slam into the
wall.

Of course
Kennedy was there, all blonde and ethereal, sipping on a green
minty looking drink Taylor was handing out.

She wore a
white lace top and pale denim shorts, expensive-looking embellished
golden and turquoise sandals twinkled on her feet.

Emily rolled
her eyes, she hadn’t even wanted to come and she’d still made more
of an effort than Kennedy had. Maybe hot pink stilettos and a
matching halter dress were a
bit
over the top for a pool party, but she had a
reputation to uphold.

Suddenly
Emily stopped in her tracks and she felt the taste of bile at the
back of her throat. Her face felt hot all of a sudden and her
stomach felt hollow and fragile.

Cody Schmidt
stood with his elbow leaning against a wall, a petite brunette
gazing up at him in wide-eyed adoration.

Emily had
done her best to avoid him since
that
night. Even seeing him filled
her with inexplicable dread and made the world seem a little
darker, like a dismal cloud blocking out the sun.

She harboured
nothing for him but anger and hatred as of that night. She was
angry with him for pressuring her into something she didn’t want,
and she hated herself for giving into the pressure.

Every time
she saw him now, his naked body flashed across her mind’s eye,
comical yet grotesque, Emily was disgusted in herself every time
she thought of it. She tried to drive it from her mind, like the
feel of his wet lips on her face, leaving trails of foul smelling
saliva, like his high wheezing gasps and rough forceful hands. It
had never been mutual beneficent, Schmidt had wanted something from
her, something perverse, and he had taken it without a moments
hesitation or guilt.

BOOK: The Perfection Paradox
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ads

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