I like that the moment you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world, into a story that’s way more interesting than yours will ever be. She said she hated the library, and I said I did too, but the truth is I loved it. I’d seen her around but had never really spoken to her-she was more popular than I was not by a lot but enough so that me saying anything to her was out of the question-but then she started working at the library, and we were shelving books together every day, and one afternoon she just started talking to me. A summer spent among books, but she left and there I was, shelving books and showing people how to use the Internet terminals. You have to do community service in order to graduate, and although most everyone does it at the very last minute, Jane and I had planned it all out before she left. I’d make up stuff in reply, and before I knew it we weren’t talking at all and the only thing I had going on was my volunteer job at the library. At first we talked a lot, like everything was exactly the same even though it wasn’t, and then we talked less, and when we did she’d mention people I didn’t know and stuff she was doing that I wasn’t part of. I had a real honest-to-God best friend, Jane, until ninth grade, but then she moved away. When we first met we used to talk endlessly about how we’d get boyfriends and what we’d do when we had them, and it was only when we actually got boyfriends that I realized without the acquiring of them to talk about, we had absolutely nothing in common.Īnd that sucks, because Katie’s my best friend. Katie’s been going out with Marcus for six months now, and he is her entire world. A Marcus question guarantees at least five minutes when I don’t have to do anything but nod and make vague agreeing noises. Mm, I say, because it’s all that’s required. Just thinking about trying to get up that early makes me sleepy. This is because she gets up at quarter to five every morning. She looks, as always, like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. I thought we might have one, but then … As she keeps talking, I glance over at her. I sigh and jam the whole thing in my bag, and then ask, How many classes do you have with Marcus? I can still see the W in world history, though. I shrug and fold my schedule up real small. I look up from my schedule-it still has the stupid class listed, damn it-and grin to show I’m okay. That’s not too much to ask for, right?Ī perfectly polished fingernail taps my schedule.

I just didn’t want to take one lousy class. I mean, I didn’t want someone to come along and give me straight A’s or perfect hair or anything. It wasn’t even like I was asking for a big one.

I guess I kept hoping some kind of miracle would happen.

Perfect You by Elizabeth Scott