Perfect by Ellen Hopkins

pokey car,
merges onto the freeway. We are
seeing a movie. Just not at the theater .
That’s your surprise . Ten minutes
later, we pull into a private parking spot
at an apartment house near UNR.
Chad is out of town. He said we could
hang at his place. It’s probably a mess .
He winks. But as long as the bed is clean…

This Is The Opportunity
    I wanted. Right? So why do I feel
    like someone just dumped mercury
    into my gut? Sean leads me to his
    brother’s lair. Clutter and dust are
everywhere, but at least it doesn’t
smell like garbage or dirty socks.
Make yourself at home. I’ll get us
something to drink . Strike one.
    I think he means alcohol. I’m not
    big on liquor. Still, when he returns
    with two brimming glasses, I go ahead
    and take a swig. Maybe liquid fire
will incinerate the moths fluttering
in my belly. Sean turns on the TV.
Chad has every movie channel . He stops
flipping at Good Girls Gone Bad .
Sean gulps down half his drink.
This one should be good. Have
you ever watched one of these?
Cable porn? Hardly. Strike two .
    “Sean…” But before I can say anything
    else, my eyes stray to the screen. Two
    women are kissing. One, a pretty blonde,
    unbuttons her blue silk blouse, spilling
flesh like fruit from a bowl. The other,
dark-haired like Dani, is quick to sample
the offering. I can’t stop watching.
Now this is what I call a chick flick ,
says Sean, and when he opens my blouse,
moves his hands over my skin, I let him.
And when he kisses down the front
of me, I lie back on the couch, invite
more. Next thing I know, we’re both
out of our jeans. Sean surprises me,
hesitating long enough to say, Christ ,
you’re beautiful . He means it, and I know
    it, and I know he loves me. His lips,
    sultry and full, feel right, in all the right
    places. Sean lifts over me. I close my eyes.
    And now we are skin against skin.…

Kendra
    Skin
    That’s what everyone wants
    to see. Skin. flawless, stretched
    over perfectly sculpted flesh.
    Men are easy, in their hunt for
skin.
    Flash just enough, they’ll go
    sniffing for more, and when
    they’re on the sniff, nothing
is
    too much to ask. They’ll give
    up careers, sacrifice families.
    Buy a new car, hand over
the key
    to the one who wears skin
    they want to lose themselves
    in. And the funny thing
    is, they don’t seem
to
    care who knows it. Not
    friends. Not colleagues.
    Not even the people they
treasure.

Size Two Skin
    That’s what I’m currently wearing.
Fifteen-milligram Meridia is one magic
    little pill. You don’t even want to look
at food. The only problem is dry mouth.
    Gack. Like sucking on cotton. At least
I’m drinking lots of water. Flushing
    out pockets of poison. And fat. Fat. Fat.
Pretty soon my body will be totally
    fat free, thanks completely to Xavier.
Thank God I met him. Everything
    has fallen into perfect place. He’s setting
me up with runway gigs, and because
    of that I can quit worrying about Miss
Teen Nevada. Yeah, it would be nice
to own that crown, but like Xavier says,
If you want to go back to pageants, there’s
always Miss Nevada next year. Or even
the year after. I don’t really need that kind
of stress right now. As Xavier says, You
know what makes worry lines? Worry.
You leave the worry to me. I’m allowed
a few lines at my age. He does have some
    at the corners of his eyes, but I think
they make him even cuter. Mom thinks
    so too. In fact, he’s got Mom eating right
out of his hand, and that’s a very good thing
    because I’ve decided not to go to college
next year, and Xavier will convince her
it’s okay. College will always be there.
But you’ve only got a few short years
to work runway. College is better
with money in the bank. You know?

Beyond Runway
    Xavier has connections at all the big
’zines. He says once the plastic surgeon
    does her thing, high-fashion shoots
are a sure bet. The nose job is only
a couple of weeks away. The day after
Easter. Once you heal up nice and pretty,
I’ll talk your mom into