Almost Perfect (19 page)

I nodded, smiling. “That makes no goddamn sense.”

“Allow me to demonstrate.” She picked up some of the McDonaldland toys. “Let’s say you’re Grimace, here.”

“Why do I have to be Grimace?”

“Fine, you can be Ronald McDonald. And Brenda is Grimace.” She began bouncing the purple figure up and down. “Hi, I’m Brenda,” she said in an insulting, whining voice. “Logan, I’m sick of how great you treat me. It’s over.”

Sage then jiggled Ronald and spoke in a mocking baritone. “Brenda, please don’t go! I love the way you treat me like garbage and ignore me! Let’s not kiss and make up!”

She picked up Brenda’s figurine. “Sorry, Logan, I just don’t want to date a handsome, funny guy. Ta-ta!” She tossed Grimace aside and picked up the headless Hamburglar.

“Hi, I’m Sage. I’m prettier and nicer than Brenda. Will you be my friend?”

I was biting my knuckle to keep from laughing. Sage continued, talking in a parody of my voice.

“I dunno, Sage. I’m not sure I like it when girls treat me like a human being. But let’s go see a movie.”

Sage retrieved Grimace and took on the parody of Brenda’s voice. “Hey, that’s my doormat there! What right do you have to tell him what a great guy he is?”

She returned to her own voice. “Hey, too late for you, toots! I mean, sure, Logan can be whiny and self-centered, but I think he’s special, so back off!” She picked up Grimace and shoved him headfirst into her salad dressing container. She then switched to my voice.

“Oh, thank you, Sage. I’m so lucky to have a friend as wonderful and sexy as you! Even though I spaz the hell out every time I realize how beautiful you are.”

I grabbed Hamburglar and imitated Sage’s voice. “Thanks, Logan! Maybe if I didn’t constantly need to be told that I’m pretty, things might be easier.”

Sage glared at me from across the table, then continued to make Ronald talk like me. “I’m Logan and I think I’m the only one who’s ever been dumped!”

“I’m Sage and I’m a big drama queen!”

“I’m Logan and I’m the only person who ever lived in a trailer!”

“I’m Sage and I’m afraid to go to Columbia by myself!”

We were shouting so loud that customers were staring.

“I’m Logan and I don’t know a good thing when I see it!”

“I’m Sage, and I don’t realize how special I am!”

We both grabbed for each other’s toy at the same time, then fake-slapped each other’s hands. Our table exploded in a flurry of plastic and protein. When the mess settled, we were glaring at each other, our fingers intertwined in a moment of hostile endearment. Then, with a burst of forced laugher, we let go. Neither of us made eye contact as we picked up our mess.

“Logan?” Sage said after a minute. “Um, when Brenda and I were talking earlier … I didn’t say that you and I were dating. But I didn’t tell her we weren’t, either. She probably thinks there’s something going on. I’m sorry, I just kind of wanted to rub her face in it. Let her know that you were gone forever.”

A few weeks earlier, I would have insisted that Sage call Brenda right then and tell her that there was nothing, nothing going on between us. Now I simply shrugged and squished Grimace farther into the pool of ranch dressing.

“Who cares what Brenda thinks? C’mon.” I stood. “I have to go call Laura and tell her I’m coming to Columbia, too.”

We didn’t speak as we walked to the parking lot. As I got on my bike and rode off, I could tell that Sage was watching me go. I failed in my determination not to look back, and I very nearly rode into a light pole.

T
IM OBEDIENTLY WASHED
himself in the algae-filled shower stall, as per the Columbia Civic Center rules. I waited in the locker room. Though Tim was wearing his swim trunks, I pointedly looked in the opposite direction.

It was the annual honor roll field trip. Bigger districts awarded high-performing students with tickets to Cardinals games or Six Flags. At Boyer, anyone who maintained a B average all year got to spend a Thursday afternoon at the huge indoor pool in Columbia.

The water turned off and Tim walked with me to the pool area, his man-boobs quaking as he moved. He kind of looked like Buddha, only without the all-knowing expression (and with a visible ass crack).

Columbia had a population of about eighty thousand not counting the college students, so the pool was enormous. It boasted a two-story water slide, a Jacuzzi, a high
dive, and two sissy dives. The building was already packed with screaming preschoolers, veiny senior citizens, and half a dozen developmentally disabled adults.

I don’t know why I come to these things. I didn’t care for swimming, and none of the female honor rollers looked very impressive in their swimsuits. Brenda always qualified to come, but she never did. She didn’t feel comfortable swimming. She was the only girl I ever knew whose bathing suit had sleeves.

Tim waddled to the high dive and made a fairly graceful plunge. I scoped out the girls from my school. Chubby, wobbly Cindy. Tall, gawky Vanessa. Chestless Carla.
Hey, who’s that?

She was sitting on the edge of the pool with her back to me. She didn’t look familiar, at least from behind. This girl was talking to Carla; probably a friend of hers who’d already graduated.
Well, maybe I should go introduce myself
.

I approached cautiously, keeping an eye out for any gross physical deformities. The strange girl stood up to medium-range scrutiny. She was wearing a bikini top and swim skirt, though she wasn’t exactly skinny. Still, her curves were nice. Her hair was totally crammed into a swim cap. Her skin was freckled; it looked as if her shoulders had been dusted with cinnamon.

So far, so good. Of course, I still hadn’t seen her face. I decided to hop in the water next to her. If she was cute (or even average-looking), I’d say hi. If she was ugly, I’d just swim on.

I subtly checked myself for obvious wood, then splashed
in. When I looked the girl in the face, I almost became the first person to drown in the shallow end of the Columbia pool.

The girl, the person standing there in a bikini top, was Sage.

That wasn’t even the jarring part. Something made me forget to swim when I hit the water. Something made me forget to hold my breath when I went under.

Actually, two somethings.

“Logan? Are you okay?” Sage bent over me with concern.

I coughed violently, trying to ignore the area below her neck. “Fine, fine, good to see you, didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Yeah, my grades—”

“Great! Well, I’m going to go see Tim!” I dog paddled off, trying to think of a logical explanation for what I’d seen.

Sage had breasts.

Now, from the age of about eleven, every straight guy cannot stop thinking about boobs. Dirty magazines, porno movies, swimsuit catalogs, women’s health pamphlets … We drool over whatever we can get our hands on. A lucky few get their hands on the real thing.

Sage had the real thing.

I bobbed by the rope that separated us from the deep end and stared at her. She was all the way in the water, though it only came up to her navel. The bunchy swim skirt completely obscured her crotch. Her tits, however, were almost on display.

That whole story about her being a boy was a lie! That
was the only explanation. All this time, I’d assumed she stuffed her bra, that her real chest was as flat as mine, and now this! That was a woman’s body.

Then I remembered my confrontation with her dad. He had flat-out said Sage was male. But how?

Around me people swam, shouted “Marco Polo,” and attempted to feel each other up underwater. I just gazed at Sage. Could they be fake, press-on boobs? She wouldn’t dare swim with those on. They must be real. That bikini left little to the imagination, and besides, her headlights were on.

Maybe she had implants. But her parents never would have allowed that. I thought about asking her to talk in private, but there was nowhere we could go where she’d feel safe discussing this.

I floated in six feet of water, rotating to follow Sage like a navigational buoy. They jiggled like the real thing. She had love handles, but not the paunchy gut of a guy. When you didn’t take her height into consideration, she was well proportioned.

Tim attempted to get me to join in a game of water volleyball, but I ignored him. Cindy, the class president, tried to talk to me, but I blew her off. All I could think of was Sage’s sudden womanhood.

I didn’t approach her. The temptation to ask would have been too great. I saw her look in my direction several times, but she never came near. Finally, when she’d joined the other girls in the locker room, I started to leave the pool. It was then I realized I was sporting an erection, and I had to stare at Tim until it went away.

Tim played it cool until we had dried off, dressed, and
climbed into his car. Then he hauled off and jabbed me in the ribs.

“Ouch! Christ, Tim, what did you do that for?” Tim wasn’t one for displays of anger. He’d usually debilitate an opponent with sarcasm.

“To knock some damn tact into you, Logan. Jesus.”

“What?” I couldn’t face him. I knew what he was talking about.

“Sage! If you’d glued your face to her cleavage, you’d have been less obvious. Lots of people noticed.”

I tried to pass it off as normal horniness. “C’mon, you’ve never sneaked a peek?”
At a male friend’s breasts?

“Yes! Sneaked a peek! You were drooling over her like she was a garlic steak, cooked medium rare, with creamed spinach on the side. …”

“Yeah …”

“And some of those little potatoes, you know the kind, with butter and sour cream. …”

“Tim!”

“Sorry. Look, buddy, there’s no shame in looking. And I’m glad you’ve gotten over Brenda. But you know better than to gawk like that.” He started the car and pulled out of the lot.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t explain that I hadn’t been staring out of lust, but out of shock.

“One more thing. I know you freak out whenever we mention it, but why not just admit you like Sage?”

“Because I don’t!” I growled.

“Well, I’m driving, so you can’t hit me for saying this. You’re full of shit, Logan.”

I tried to ignore Tim. I rolled down the window, but it was too cold on my wet hair, so I rolled it back up.

“I don’t like Sage.” Why did I sound like I was saying
I don’t have a drinking problem?

“What’s the big deal, Logan? Are you still hoping it’s going to work out with Brenda? It’s not.”

“I know that.” I wasn’t lying, either. In fact, I’d been kind of relieved when Brenda hadn’t shown up today. I didn’t want to talk to her.

“Then what? Embarrassed that Sage is so much taller than you? Get over yourself.”

“Tim, I’m going to say this, and then we’re going to drop it. Forever. Sage and I are friends, and nothing more. I guess when I saw her body today, I was kind of … surprised, but nothing’s changed.”

We were silent for the half-hour drive back to Boyer. I waited until Tim’s dust trail had disappeared before grabbing my bike and speeding off to Sage’s house.

Since Sage and I had become friends again, I used her condition as an excuse not to think of her as a real girl. Every time I noticed her smile, her legs, or her hair, I’d remind myself what was under her clothes. I’d mentally constructed a torso that would shame Bigfoot: covered with hair from neck to navel, muscular and scarred, brawny and macho. True, I’d actually seen Sage’s lower back and shoulders before, but I didn’t let that affect the picture in my head. I’d tell myself over and over that under those wild dresses and loud shirts lay the masculine, male body of a man, and that it was pure sickness to imagine Sage any other way.

I’d certainly never imagined a cute, plump belly; a smooth, freckled back; and a chest that … oh, sweet Lord. In an instant, Sage had become the girl … the
woman …
she’d been to me when we first met. Her actual body was even more impressive than I would have pictured when we went to the movies.

Sage had a woman’s chest. It was perverse! Unnatural! It wasn’t even possible!

And we were supposed to go off to Columbia together this weekend!

I didn’t even slow down when I turned onto Sage’s street, and I almost completely lost control of my bike. I had to talk to Sage. She had a couple of things to explain.

T
HE LIVING ROOM LIGHT WAS
on, but there were no vehicles in Sage’s driveway. Hopefully, that meant her parents were gone. I parked my bike, then stood on the front porch. What was I going to say?
Hey, I couldn’t help noticing …

Tammi answered my knock. She stood with her arms folded, like the doorman at some trendy club.

“Sage is in the shower.”

“Ah. Well, tell her I stopped by.” Obviously, I didn’t meet the dress code. I walked back among the many lawn gnomes. Just before I mounted my bike, Tammi called me back.

“Why don’t you wait inside, Logan?” There was a friendliness in her voice I’d never heard before. Cautiously, I entered the house.

I figured I’d be waiting in the living room, but Tammi escorted me to Sage’s room.

“I’ll tell her you’re here.” There was a definite welcome in her voice. I wondered what had brought on this change.

“Your parents are gone, right?” I asked nervously.

“You think I’d invite you in if they were here?”

I could see Tammi knock on the bathroom door, then pass inside. It blew my mind. For the first ten or so years of Tammi’s life, Sage had been her brother. Now Tammi felt comfortable going into the bathroom while Sage was showering. Had she really accepted her new sister so completely?

I sat on Sage’s bed. Tammi quickly stuck her head through the doorway.

“She’ll be done in a second.” She ducked out again. I heard the door to her room slam, and then a radio came on. Apparently, Tammi wasn’t going to chaperone today.

Sage’s room was as chaotic as her personality. It was in a state of total disorder, but not dirty. In one corner, a sewing machine stood stacked with dozens of half-finished outfits. Rows of books were piled along one wall, while a large bookcase was crammed to overflowing with rocks, fossils, and dried flowers. The desk was buried under a pile of fashion magazines, photographs, and an almost obsolete computer.