The Perfectionists (10 page)

“I read that, too,” Caitlin said with appreciation. “But, um, wasn't Kerouac in a car?”

“Eh, close enough.” Jeremy shrugged. “Don't you think that would be fun?”

“Actually, I do,” Caitlin said faintly. She'd had the same dreams of wanderlust after finishing the book.
Maybe I could travel before college
, she'd thought.

But when she'd voiced the idea to Josh, he'd looked at her crazily. “What about All-Stars?” he'd asked her. “And they're going to need you in July at UDub for training.”

Lake Washington opened up before them, steel blue and sparkling. Jeremy drove them down a quiet path into the Kikisoblu Bay Park, which met the water in a jagged, rocky beach. Caitlin loved going this way to practice. It took a little longer, but it was so beautiful. She wished, suddenly, that she could do this all day: drift down the road on the back of this scooter, her hair flowing behind her, the wind whipping through her, the sounds rushing past her so loudly that she didn't have time to think about any of her troubles. And, oh yeah, her arms wrapped tightly around a boy, his body pressed close to hers, too, keeping her safe from falling off.

Jeremy spoke as they slowed down. “Do you happen to remember me freshman year?”

She snorted. “Um, of course I do.”

“I was a skinny little nerd back then. Taking three junior-level AP classes, doing debate and Model UN. You know, all the stuff skinny little nerds do. But we were in study hall together. You and me.”

Caitlin squinted. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I remember that.”

“And this one time, you lent me your pen because I didn't have one. And when I looked at it, I was astonished—it was a Dungeons and Dragons pen. The coolest thing I'd ever seen.”

Caitlin laughed. “It was probably Taylor's.”

“Yeah, but you'd been using it before you gave it to me,” Jeremy pointed out. “It didn't even occur to you that it was, I don't know, weird.”

Caitlin shrugged. “Okay.”

“I just . . . remember that about you,” Jeremy said. “I liked that. You were different. I mean, good at soccer for sure, but you had depth, too.”

Caitlin thought about this for a while. She tried to fight against the compliment, but it was a nice thing to say about someone. Had Josh ever talked about her being deep or different? Surely, right? Only, she couldn't think of an instance.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling.

Jeremy pulled into the school and hit the brakes for a moment. He glanced back and grinned at her. “You know, it's good to see you smiling. You've had this tough-girl attitude since Taylor died,” he said gently. Then he moved even closer.

Almost like he was going to kiss her.

Caitlin told herself to move, but her limbs didn't cooperate. She just stared into Jeremy's large, inquisitive eyes, wondering what might happen next.

“
There
you are!”

Caitlin's head whipped around.

Vanessa, her red hair glinting in the sunlight, rushed toward them across the parking lot, her cleats clacking on the pavement. “Coach Leah was just about to send out a search party!” Then she looked at who Caitlin was riding with and did a double take. “Oh, hey, Jeremy.”

“Sorry. Just some car trouble.” Caitlin hopped off the Vespa, her cheeks flaming. She felt guilty, as if she'd somehow done something wrong.

Vanessa turned. “Well, let's hustle. Coach is in a mood.”

Caitlin ran after her friend. It wasn't until she reached the practice field that she realized she hadn't said thank you to Jeremy—or acknowledged, maybe, what they'd been about to do. But of course she didn't acknowledge
that
. He was Josh's
brother.
Nothing more.

Still, she looked back to the curb. Jeremy was still idling there, helmet in hand. He gave Caitlin a long, lingering look. She froze as his warm brown eyes found hers. Somehow, it was like he was looking right into her soul.

And like he could tell that she'd almost let him kiss her.

ON MONDAY NIGHT, AVA AND
Alex were curled up on the giant L-shaped couch in Ava's den. A Harry Potter movie marathon was on, but the two of them were paying more attention to each other. Ava would've rather brought him into her bedroom, of course; but her dad and stepmom were home, and there were strict rules in Ava's house about boyfriend-girlfriend contact in unsupervised spaces.

“Have I told you lately how gorgeous you are?” Alex murmured, pulling her close. He smelled like clean cashmere sweater and Old Spice.

Ava nudged him playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, my friend.”

“No ulterior motives.” Alex shook his curly brown head emphatically. “It's just the truth. You, Ava Jalali, are a complete knockout. Just don't let it go to your head.”

“Don't worry,” Ava teased, touching the tip of his nose. “With you around to keep my ego in check, there's no chance of that.”

Alex leaned forward and kissed her. Ava shut her eyes and reached her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. She and Alex had been dating for a year, but their kisses never,
ever
got old.

Neither did the compliments. It was weird: All her life, Ava had known she was beautiful. Plenty of people told her so: photographers, modeling managers, even a guy who once wanted to make an avatar of her for a video game he was creating. But only when Alex said it did it actually feel real—because, unlike everyone else, he actually cared about
her
, Ava, not just what she looked like. Alex made her feel special all the time, and he had the unique ability to keep her sane and grounded in the overly competitive world of Beacon Heights.

Alex's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled away to look at the screen. “Crap,” he said. “I didn't realize how late it was. My parents will kill me if I miss curfew.”

“Stay,” she said. “You know your parents love you.”
Much more than mine do right now.
The truth was, she hated being alone right now. Whenever she was, panic about Nolan—and about her slipping grades—began to overtake her. Thanks to her evil stepmother, her relationship with her father was tenuous at best. If he ever caught wind of the Nolan rumors, that would be it.

“Are you still upset about that paper?” he asked, as if reading her mind, his brown eyes warm with concern. “That was really harsh of Mr. Granger.”

Ava suddenly flashed back to that day in class, when she and the other girls in the group had discussed vengeance and ended up talking about Nolan.
What about Oxy?
she heard their voices say.
Not too much—just enough to knock him out. Just enough to take some incriminating pictures.

She gritted her teeth.
Stop thinking about it
.

“Yeah, that sucked,” she said aloud. “I wonder if I should talk to him. See if I can rewrite it?”

Alex's gaze darted to the left. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

Ava looked at him sharply. “Why would you say that?” Instantly she thought of the rumors about her. But Alex didn't buy into them. “It was
your
idea,” she added.

Alex shrugged. “Never mind. You're right. You should try to change the grade.”

“Okay.” Ava gave Alex's hand a squeeze. She felt a little uncertain after Alex's comment, but maybe Granger rubbed guys the wrong way for the same reason all the girls liked him. “I'll ask him about it.”

They walked down the grand staircase to the first floor. Instantly, the heady scent of the room spray Ava's stepmother used assaulted her nostrils. Even though her father had been married to Leslie for several years, Ava still found the smell offensive. God forbid the house smell like the Iranian spices her father used in his cooking. That would be too foreign and weird.

Of course, the rest of the place had changed as well. Gone were the Persian rugs her father and mother had bought in Tehran during their last visit, replaced with two beige couches and a leather recliner that Leslie had picked out. Gone were the gold-footed coffee table and the silk swags on the windows that Ava used to play among when she was little; in their place was a glass table and modern wooden blinds. Ava wasn't sure what Leslie was trying to erase—her husband's heritage, or his ex-wife's legacy.

They reached the front door, and Ava went up on her tiptoes to give Alex one more good-bye kiss. Ava was tall, but he still had a good six inches on her. “Call me when you get home,” she said.

He nodded. “Love you,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead before stepping outside.

“Ava?” she heard from upstairs, as she shut the door behind him. “Is that you?”

Her father appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a white terry cloth robe he would have never bought for himself—clearly a Leslie purchase. His graying hair was mussed, the way it always looked when he was working late, and his wire-frame glasses hung low on his nose. “How's my girl?” he asked, just the hint of an accent left in his voice.

“Everything is
great
!” Ava winced, realizing she'd injected far too much enthusiasm in the lie. But to her surprise, her father didn't catch it.

“I'm glad. Good night,
jigar
,” he said, using their old Iranian term of endearment. Ava felt a sudden rush of affection for her father. With all her stress about the Nolan stuff, she hadn't spent enough time with him lately. She resolved to change that.

“Good night,” she replied, watching as he headed back into his room. She started up the stairs, then changed her mind and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, fumbling for the light switch on the wall.

“Hi, Ava,” came a slurred voice from the darkness.

“
Leslie!
” Ava jumped at least a foot into the air.
Why are you sitting in the pitch-darkness like a total creep?
she wanted to ask. Her fingers found the switch, and the kitchen was suddenly flooded with light, revealing another room she barely recognized, with its glossy granite countertops and new cabinetry. Leslie sat perched on one of the stools, her long, tanned legs crossed, her blond hair loose around her face, and an empty bottle of Chardonnay next to her on the table.

Just looking at Leslie filled Ava with frustration. Her mother had been short and frumpy, with frizzy reddish hair that she kept in a bun. Nothing like this hard, brittle woman. And her father had loved her mother for her mind: She'd been the head of the math department at UDub, brilliant and flustered and funny. Ava still wasn't sure if Leslie even
had
a mind. And what brains she did have, she seemed intent on drinking away.

“I think the question is, what were
you
doing, sneaking your boyfriend out late at night?” Leslie challenged.

“It's nine
PM
, and we were watching a movie in the den. Last I checked, that was still allowed.” Ava crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“I think you're spending too much time with him. I'd like it if he didn't come around here anymore,” Leslie said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Ava shot back. “Well, good thing it's not really up to you.”

Leslie barely flinched. “I'm worried about you, Ava.” Her voice dripped with false concern. “I heard some troubling things about you recently, about the sudden . . .
upturn
in your GPA. I'd hate to have to share them with your father.”

Ava gasped. How in the world would
Leslie
hear those rumors? Another mother? Did lots of parents know? “Th-those are just nasty rumors that an ex-boyfriend started,” she stammered.

“See?” Leslie smiled, showing her too-white teeth. “It's always about boys with you, Ava. What am I supposed to do except ask you to stop seeing this Alex person?”

Ava's hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she struggled to control her breathing. Even in death, Nolan Hotchkiss was still managing to ruin her life.

The spring of sophomore year, Ava and Nolan had dated for several months—Ava didn't normally run with his crowd, but Nolan had sought her out and had been so persistent that Ava couldn't say no. And while certain things about Nolan annoyed her, she had to admit it had been, well,
fun
being Nolan Hotchkiss's girlfriend. Freshman girls parted for her in the hallway, the way they normally did for Julie Redding and Parker Duvall and their minions. Everyone kept offering her things, study guides and hall passes and invitations to country clubs and lake houses. When she heard that Nolan was bragging about how he was going to sleep with her after junior prom, she wasn't even as bothered by it as she should've been—and she hated that now, hated that she hadn't had the self-respect to see what a scumbag he was. She'd been too wrapped up in his dazzling smile and his lying words, and she went ahead and did everything he wanted.

It was afterward, while Nolan was in the shower, that she picked up his iPhone to put on some music—and saw the texts. There were naked shots from dozens of girls in their class, including one from Delia Marks just an hour earlier.
I want to see you
, she had texted.
Tomorrow night
, Nolan had replied—while he'd been with Ava.
Can't wait to see you. Every inch of you.

Much more calmly than she felt, Ava had stood up, pulled on her rumpled Zac Posen dress, and slammed the door on her way out.

But Ava had learned the hard way that no one broke up with Nolan Hotchkiss without suffering the consequences. In retaliation, he told everyone that she'd been sleeping her way through the male faculty at Beacon Heights High—and maybe one or two of the females, too. Everyone knew that Ava had been getting better grades for the past year, and they were more than happy to believe Nolan's explanation. “Pretty girls don't need brains,” Nolan would say loudly in the hallway whenever Ava was around. “They have other ways to get what they want.”