Perfect (8 page)

"Is this lip gloss too shiny?"

"Can you see my bra through this shirt!"

Ashley Barnum's fan club was hogging the mirror, as
usual. No one else could get a primp in edgewise.

Not that I came here to primp. No. I came to use the
stall as it was intended, to spy. This is what you can hear if
you hang out long enough in a girls' room stall:

"Does my pad show in these pants, you guys? Be
honest."

"I can't tell. Bend over."

"I'm not bending over."

"Well, walk then, Danielle. Let us see you from
behind."

"Okay.... So, seriously you guys. Can you tell?"

"Ally, where'd you get those jeans?"

"Gap."

"They're so cute."

"Did you hear Rose Gowan went to second with Jason
Perry?"

"That lucky!"

"Euww!"

"I would never let Jason Perry go to second. I wouldn't
even let him get to first!"

I had been at my perch for half an hour. I'm not kidding when I say I was perching, just like a bird on a branch.
My feet were starting to fall asleep.

I was waiting for everyone to leave so I could check
my teeth. I didn't need a repeat performance of last year's
breakfast braces.

Through a crack between stalls I could see Heather
Jellerette and her si:e :ero jeans. I'd know Heather
Jellerette just about anywhere. She is the second-prettiest
girl in our grade next to Ashley. Plus, she's always wearing
Guess? because her older sister works at the Guess? store
in the mall.

As far as I could tell, she was the only one left. Heather
was blotting her lip gloss with a paper towel. Blotting .. .
blotting ... blotting ... leaving.

Was it safe to come out' Yes, it was safe.

Finally I could unfold myself, get some blood flow back
to my legs. Except then I heard a sound coming from several stalls down, a sound that could only he one thing.
Someone's breakfast coming up the same way it went
down.

You had to feel had for the girl who thought no one
could hear her.

The toilet flushed, and out we walked together. Me
and Ashley Barnum. Ashley Barnum and me.

Ashley wiped her mouth on the hack of her hand. Her
eyes were all red and watery. She saw me and just about
died.

I didn't know what to say, Sc) I just walked over to the
sink and started washing my hands.

Ashley did the same.

There were no paper towels left, so we wiped our
hands on our jeans.

When we came out of our state of shock, Ashley asked
if I had any mints and I said, "Is Juicy Fruit okay?"

SOMETIMES THINGS HAPPEN in life that make no
logical sense. Ape Face being nice. My mother getting out
of bed before ten. And now, Ashley Barnum inviting me
over to her house after school. I had no choice but to pretend it was really happening.

In a kitchen the size of Yankee Stadium, Ashley asked
if I wanted to call my mom. "It's Friday," she said. "You can
sleep over."

I found myself saying "Sure," as though I got invited to
sleepovers all the time. The truth was, the only ones I ever went to were at Nola's, and those weren't all that exciting.
Nola always falls asleep at nine o'clock, and Georgie ends
up calling her mom to pick her up in the middle of the
night because she can't fall asleep at all.

Ashley led me into a room with a lot of puffy green
couches and leather chairs. Everything smelled like shoe
polish and lemons. "Use this phone," she said, handing me
a white cordless.

Ashley walked hack into the kitchen so I could have
some privacy. Good thing, too. You never know which of
my mothers is going to answer the phone. Tired Mom,
who can barely carry on a conversation and you know you
woke her up even though it's the middle of the day. Sad
Mom, who tries to act like she hasn't just been crying for
five hours straight and when you ask if she's okay she says
she's just coming down with a little cold.

This time I got lucky: Excited Mom. I had to take the
phone away from my ear so I wouldn't go deaf. "That's
wonderful, sweetie! A slumber party!"

"Mom," I said. "It's not a party. It's just me and Ashley."

She wanted to know what Ashley's like.

Nice, I told her. Pretty and nice.

"What about her parents.' Have you met them'"

"Not yet. But I'm sure they're nice too."

"And they'll he around all night."'

"Mom, come on."

"Isabelle ..."

"I'm sure they'll he around all night. Either that, or
Ashley's brothers."

"How old are her brothers?"

"High-school age. Old enough to drive."

"I don't want you getting in a car with Ashley's
brothers."

"Mons.

"Isabelle."

"Okay. l won't."

After I gave her Ashley's address and phone number,
she asked if I needed anything. Pj's? Toothbrush? Sleeping hag? Underwear? "Just give me the word, Isabelle," my
mother said. "I can be right over."

"I don't know," I told her. "I have to check."

Ashley called back from the kitchen that I didn't need
anything, she had extra sweats and stuff.

"I'm all set, Mom. She's got extra."

My mother asked did we want her to swing by with
something from General Cho's? Something healthy?
Steamed chicken and vegetables? It would be absolutely
no problem.

"No!" I said. "Definitely not."

The silence on the other end of the phone said it all. I
am a horrible daughter.

"Thanks, though, Mom, for the offer... Un1, next
time?"

"Of course," she said. "Next time." But I could tell her
feelings were still hurt. I am practically an expert at hurting my mother's feelings.

I made my voice soft and daughterly and told her I'd
be home tomorrow morning, around eleven. "Maybe we
could take a bike ride up to the lake?" I said. "Just the two
of us?"

She liked this. "That would he great, sweetie. Have
fun tonight."

"I will," I said. "Definitely." Then, "You have fun too,
Mom. Okay? ... Okay, Mom?"

"Okay," she said, but quiet, so you knew Sad Mom was
hack.

For dinner it was chicken marsala and some kind of fancy
rice. I told Ashley's mother her cooking was delicious.

Mrs. Barnum dabbed at her mouth with a corner of
napkin and said, "Thank you, darling, but I'm afraid I
can't take credit."

Turns out they have a cook, Gregory. And he's divine.
If I haven't tasted Gregory's spinach quiche, Ashley's
mother told me, I haven't lived.

I happen to hate quiche more than anything, but I decided to keep this information to myself.

I was careful to cut everything into small bites and to
finish chewing before opening my mouth. The only words
I used were please, thank you, and ma'am.

Ashley barely touched her food, maybe one stalk of
asparagus and that's it. The reason I noticed is that the
portions were tiny. When someone wasn't eating, it was
obvious. At least at my house, where everything is plopped
onto your plate in one huge mound, you can always rearrange things to make it look like you're eating.

Even Ashley's dad ate only about two bites before he
pushed his plate away, like he had better things to do. Mr.
Barnum is that Richard Gere kind of handsome, with white
hair and warm, crinkly eyes. He was wearing a tuxedo. I would say that he is older than Mrs. Barnum by at least ten
years. Either that, or she's had a lot of plastic surgery.

"Kaye," Ashley's dad said to Ashley's mom and tapped
his big shiny watch.

When Ashley's mother stood up, you could smell her
perfume, spicy and exotic. Her dress was covered with
about a million little green sequins.

"Warren," she said to Ashley's dad. "Go get the car."

Mr. Barnum gave her a yes-ma'am salute and clicked
his heels together. He walked around the table to Ashley,
kissed her on top of the head. "Night, Ash."

When Ashley said "Night, Daddy," I had to swallow
hard to get the prickle out of my eyes.

"Isabelle," Ashley's dad said, bowing like Prince
Charming. "A pleasure."

"Thank You," I said.

Ashley's mom gave us both air kisses and reminded
Ashley to wash her face, twice, but not with soap. With
the facial wash from Bliss.

On her way out the door, Mrs. Barnum threw on some
kind of floaty scarf with a leaf pattern. She told us not to
wait up because these functions at the country club run
late. They would be back maybe one, two in the morning.

Oh well. What my mother doesn't know can't hurt
her.

Out on the porch, Ashley's mom checked her hair
in a little gold mirror. When Mr. Barnum pulled his big
black car in front of the house, she slipped the mirror
into a sequiny purse that matched her dress. "Good
night, darlings."

"Night, Mom," Ashley said. "Have fun."

"Bye, Mrs. Barnum," I said. "Nice meeting you."

From the car, Ashley's dad called for us to hold down
the fort. Ashley's mom said, if we wanted dessert, there
were diet ice pops in the freezer. No fat.

In the kitchen, Ashley told me she was sorry about her
parents.

"Why?" I say. "I thought they were nice."

"Yeah," Ashley said, with a little half smile. "Except for
wanting to kill each other, they're a real treat."

I knew I was probably not expected to respond, but I
nodded sympathetically. "Parents."

We were sitting on high stools at the kitchen counter. Ashley was picking at a hangnail on her pinky. It was
her turn to speak, but I took it upon myself to break the
silence. "Diet ice pop, anyone?"

Ashley said she could do better than that. How hungry
was I?

"I could eat," I said. You have no earthly idea how
much I could eat.

Ashley told me to follow her. We walked down a long
hallway, into a pantry straight out of Gone with the Wind, big
enough to hold a hundred salted pig carcasses. She started
taking things off shelves. Chips, cookies, ravioli, peaches,
tuna, cocoa, cereal. We headed back to the kitchen with a
full load.

"So," Ashley said, dumping stuff on the counter. "Do
you like salty first, or sweet?"

I told her sweet.

"Me too!" she said. She stopped and thought. "Bowls.
Salsa. Soda." She asked if I wanted regular Coke or Diet. I
said Diet. Of course.

I was directed to various drawers and cupboards,
where I expected to find the same mismatched plastic
cups and howls we use at my house. I forgot for a moment
that everything in Ashley's world is matching, everything is
just so. Even the napkins were cloth, with a blue and yellow
windowpane pattern that went with the stool cushions.

I held up a hag of corn chips. "Should I open these?"

"Yeah," said Ashley. "We'll lay everything out first."

She pulled two frosty mugs out of the freezer. They
were so cold my fingers stuck to the handles.

Ashley poured two Diet Cokes, squeezing a little
wedge of lime into each. "My dad is big into g and t's," she
said. "That's how come I'm using lime instead of lemon."

"G and is?"

"Gin and tonics."

"Oh. Right."

"Ever had one?" she asked.

"Not exactly," I said, as if you can kind of have a gin
and tonic.

"What about wine?" she said. "My parents are big into
red wine with dinner. Especially merlot."

"Yeah," I say. "I like red wine." For Passover Seder,
Daddy would always pour a little kosher red into my glass.
He showed me how to dip my pinky in and dab it on my
napkin, ten times, to represent the plagues. Then we'd
raise glasses and clink. "Lechaim, Bella," he would say.

Lechaim, Daddy.

Ashley opened the fridge and checked out the shelves.
"I forgot! We have roast beef! And gravy! Want to make
diner sandwiches?"

I said okay, and we set up shop. Baking sheet, saucepans, carving knife, fat slices of white bread, the kind
that's really had for you but tastes really good.

We piled everything onto a gigantic serving platter and
schlepped it downstairs to the den, the only room in the
house where we're allowed to make a mess. Ashley said
her brothers practically live down there.

No kidding. It's only wall-to-wall posters of supermodels in bikinis. There's Ping-Pong, fooshall, darts, and pool.
Plus, a big-screen TV and a refrigerator. It's teenage boy
heaven.

I asked Ashley, where were the brothers tonight, by the
way?

"Jon and Dave are down the street, at Eric Dean's,"
she said, taking a single corn chip and dipping it in salsa.
"You know Eric?"

I shook my head no.

"He's like my fourth brother." Ashley popped the
chip in her mouth, chewed once, and swallowed. "And
Craig's ... where is Craig? ... In the Hamptons, I think.
Some party."

In the Hamptons. Where the rich people go.

I picked up my Diet Coke and swirled the ice around
with my finger. You don't mind being here all alone?"

"I'm not alone," Ashley said. "I have you."