Perfect

sneak peek

Perfect

April used to be my sister. She used to be nine and charming. She used to respect the two most important laws of Sisterhood: Thou shalt not spy and Thou shalt not report thy sister’s crimes to the authorities. Now Ape Face is ten, and everything’s different. She is evil, and she must be destroyed.

Here’s how it happened: the week before school started, my ex-sister burst through the closeddoor of the bathroom we share and found me. On my knees. With my head in the toilet.

“Euwww,” she said. “Naaasty.”

I removed my fingers from my throat and swallowed. “Don’t tell Mom.”

“Don’t tell Mom what?” she said.

“That I have the flu, Ape Face. Obviously. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Ohhh. Is that what you call it? Shoving your fingers down your throat? The flu?”

I called her the worst name I could think of—something I heard Jason Gullo call Ryan James in gym. But with Ape Face you have to choose your words carefully. "You'd better not tell her."

Ape Face raised one eyebrow. “Or what?”

“Or else. That's all I'm saying.”

“Oooo.” She waggled her fingers at me. “Scarey.”

Here is our business arrangement in times of crisis: bribery. Of the items I own, here is what April wants: everything.

We stepped into my office, which doubles as a bedroom, and shut the door. As if shutting doors means anything around here.

“My rhinestone barrettes,” I said.

Ape Face wrinkled her nose. She has no taste. She wears a leotard to school, if that tells you anything. And anyway, just as a good batter never swings at the first pitch, Ape Face never takes the first offer. She likes me to throw some heat.

I went over to my bureau and pulled out my periwinkle tank top. There was a time when Ape Face would have gnawed off her own arm for this shirt, that is before there was a gigantic ravioli stain on the front.

“Right,” said Ape Face, and made a move toward the door.

I had to say something. Anything. “My Wonderbra?”

Ape Face said, “That’s very funny, Isabelle. You should be a comedian.”

“I’m serious. It makes you look like you have something on top even when you don’t.”

Ape Face narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you know that you are exactly ten seconds away from being grounded for life?”

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to scare me or if she meant it. With three balls, no strikes, I couldn’t take the chance. This one was gonna hurt. “My red boots,” I said. Ouch.

"The suede ones?" said Ape Face, brightening.

“The suede ones.” Noooooooo. These are my absolute favorite shoes in the whole world, and she knows it. I saved my allowance for three months to buy them. Regret! Regret!

Ape Face came over to my bed and sat down, one leg crossed over the other. She held out her hand to me like she was royalty and I was supposed to kiss her ring.

I reached under the bed to get the shoebox and handed it to her.

Ape Face took her sweet time. She laced up each shoe with excruciating care. She pointed her toes in the air, flexed. Pointed, flexed, assumed ballet positions. She stood and did a few pliés and arabesques. Then, even more slowly, she sat back down and unlaced. Slowly, oh so slowly, she placed my all-time favorite shoes back in their tissue paper cocoon.

She handed me the box. “I don’t think so, Isabelle.They're a little scuffed.”

She’s that good.

“Okay, Ape Face. Name it.”

“Your mountain bike.” She actually said this with a straight face.

“You’re crazy.”

“Your mountain bike,” she repeated.

“Have you been sniffing glue? Those fumes, you know, they can make you nuts.”

April walked over to the door, placed one hand on the doorknob. “This is my final offer, Belly. Take it or . . . don’t.”

I have never hated anyone so much in my entire life as I hated my sister at that moment. “Get out of my room,” I told her. “Out.”

“Have it your way,” Ape Face said. And here is what she, my own flesh and blood, did: she placed both hands on her non-hips, smiled at me, and started yelling. “Mahhhhhm! Belly’s puking her guts out!”

That’s how it happened. That’s how my ex-sister realized her life-long dream of seeing me placed under house arrest. That’s how I ended up here, on this pee-colored couch from the disco era, sandwiched between a skeleton and a whale.