The Perfectionists by Sara Shepard Page A

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.
    â€œI think the question is, what were you doing, sneaking your boyfriend out late at night?” Leslie challenged.
    â€œIt’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.
    â€œI think you’re spending too much time with him. I’d like it if he didn’t come around here anymore,” Leslie said slowly.
    â€œOh 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.
    â€œSee?” 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