The Perfection Paradox (13 page)

This is the
face I will use to pretend everything’s okay
she thought. She watched herself, watched her lower lip
trembled and her face furrow in emotional agony.

She was
disgusting, disgusting and weak and ugly.

She dropped
the poorly mask of contentment and stared down at her hands,
breathing heavily, an overwhelming wave of panic threatening to
break her.

What the fuck
would she do now? She’d told everyone she would be attending an Ivy
League next fall. What could she do?

This was
typical. Her whole life,
her whole fucking
life
, she’d been getting her hopes up,
daring to dream that it might be her turn soon, her turn for a
fucking break, her turn for some good fortune.

Emily wiped
the makeup away from around her eyes and practiced smiling like
nothing was wrong, a skill she had long since mastered by
now.

She grabbed
her handbag off the floor and made her way to her locker as the
bell marked the end of class. The hallway filled with teenage
chatter.

After
exchanging her binders for her upcoming classes Emily wandered to
Sarah’s locker. Sarah smiled expectantly as she saw her
approaching.

“
I don’t want
to talk about it” Emily said through gritted teeth. Amanda raised a
curious eyebrow but then shrugged it off.

“
How about
you?”

Amanda waved
her hand in the air nonchalantly, “I got what I needed for
college”. Emily tried to muster a smile for her best
friend.

Suddenly
Courtney Pearce, a ditzy senior on the same Varsity girls’ soccer
team as Sarah, tapped them on the shoulder enthusiastically and
beamed at them.

“
SAT results
party tonight at Ryan’s house!” Karen laughed,

“
So you got
the grades you needed?” Sarah enquired, laughing as Courtney barely
managed to contain her excitement.

Courtney
nodded, her grin never faltering.

“
Have you
heard about anyone else’s results?” Emily asked curiously, she
could at least make herself feel better by hearing about other
people completely failing the exams.

“
You know
Tim? Tim Guff? Kind of chubby? Always has that weird beanie on?
Well he got like 100 on it. Hunter got just under 2000
apparently…”

That didn’t
surprise Emily, Hunter was a lot smarter than he’d have people
believe.

“
The highest
I’ve heard so far was Kennedy…
Shocker!
” Courtney joked
sarcastically. Emily’s heart beat hard in her chest, “What did she
get?” she demanded.

Courtney
twirled her bleached hair in between her orange fingers, checking
it absent-mindedly for split ends.

“
She got
2380, pretty crazy” she muttered at them under her breath, shifting
her eyes to check no one was listening that might tell Kennedy
about her gossiping.

Emily felt
nauseous again suddenly and her eyes widened. She’d braced herself
for Kennedy’s grade, she’d been prepared that it would be
slightly
better than
hers, but 2380?
Really?

“
How?”
She demanded from no one in particular, “I don’t
get how that’s possible. She does so many extracurricular
activities and APs. It’s so annoying. I don’t get how she even has
time to study.”

Sarah laughed
at Emily’s irritation “I think we’re one of the few high schools
who can boast a genius homecoming queen!”

Emily looked
downcast, “I don’t get it…” she complained, mulling over her
1100.

It just
seemed so unfair that Emily’s most far-fetched desires, her out of
reach dreams, were Kennedy’s mundane reality.

16.

The days grew
shorter and darker as Christmas approached.

Carols rung
out from the radio, jolly and full of tender sentiments.

Ice covered
roads, lakes and anything that had once been green.

Glistening
icicles hung from the bare branches of trees like frozen
fangs.

The bracing
wind turned cheeks and noses a flushed pink.

Houses were
draped with Yuletide lights, from the simple stars that hung in the
cramped windows of Hannah’s neighbourhood, to the elaborate
displays of Santa on his sleigh, of reindeer and Christmas trees
and bells and snowflakes that decorated the homes of upper
Rosewell.

The hallways
of Rosewell High School had once been sultry and hot, but winter
had come and they were now chilly and grey. Students shuddered as
they bundled out of their frosted cars, their steaming breath
billowing as they rushed through the snow and wind to the school
doors.

Hannah felt
discomfort ease over her like a cold sweat as her mother and father
egged her over the threshold of the dinner hall the PTO had hired
for the Seniors Christmas Brunch. Hannah had never been anywhere so
sophisticated before. The walls were panelled mahogany, crimson and
gold tapestries hung at intervals, the colours glinting richly in
the low light.

The Christmas
trees had been decorated to match the intricately embroidered
canvases, their branches heavy with gleaming golden spheres and
thick red tinsel that glowed luxuriously.

The trees
were real, tall and proud pines, their fresh aroma filling the hall
and mixing with the heavy scent of candles in a delicious
medley.

The trees
were so different to the one that had perched in Hannah’s living
rooms as a child, scraggly, plastic and sagging with hopelessness.
Her father had found it at a local dumping ground. Her parents
couldn’t afford real decorations, but they’d let Hannah amuse
herself making her own out of aluminium foil as long as she didn’t
use too much of it. One year that had been their gift to her, a
budget roll of foil so she could make as many decorations as she
liked.

Christmas had
never held much magic for Hannah, but here, in this hall of red and
gold and wondrous smells that she had never experienced before, she
could begin to understand how it might have been for her
peers.

Her mother
had forced her into a black high collared dress and itchy woollen
tights (second-hand with some questionable stains).

She felt
claustrophobic as the thick material continually readjusted itself
into the most uncomfortable arrangement possible. Her mother had
even pulled her hair back into a frizzy ponytail. Hannah would've
rather looked the kind of bad which clearly demonstrated she hadn't
even made an effort, whereas now it just looked like she'd tried to
look nice but couldn't quite manage it. She looked like an awkward
twelve year-old, especially with the black hairband her mother had
forced into her hair. 

Hannah and
her parents took their seats at the large round table where their
nametags had been placed.

The hall was
filling up slowly; nearly half of the seats were occupied. Hannah's
mother was fussing over her father's orange and lime tie,
readjusting it after he'd tugged it loose.

Hannah
glanced around; she waved as she saw Jessica arrive with her
parents, her mother was wearing a dominatrix-esque corset and a
sleek black blazer. Her father was in a raspberry coloured corduroy
suit matched with a pair of white trainers.

On anyone
else, the outfits would’ve looked ridiculous, but on them, it just
looked
so cool
.

Hannah
watched Brooke Kent arrive with her parents. Her father was fat and
old, and her mother about twenty years younger with dyed blonde
hair and fake breasts popping out of her dress. The stereotypical
rich bitch's parents. 

All the jocks
stood together in a corner, their fathers stood beside them,
talking about the good old days when they played Varsity Football
at Rosewell High School.

This school
was such a cliché.

"Who
is 
that
?"
she heard her father exclaim.

Hannah
followed their line of vision and her eyes settled upon Kennedy
Blakewood, dressed in a fitted ivory dress and matching
blazer. 

"
That's
Kennedy Blakewood" Hannah explained,

"She's
incredibly beautiful," her mother uttered thoughtfully, still
watching her across the room.

"Yes mother,
she's also the girl that got 2380 on her SATs"

Her father
was still gawping at Kennedy.

"Incredible"
he muttered, but Hannah wasn't sure what he was referring to so
chose to ignore him, turning her attention to Kennedy
instead.

Kennedy
wasn’t just high school beautiful; she was painstakingly,
heart-breakingly, girl-of-your-dreams beautiful.

The kind of
beautiful that meant if any students you met from the surrounding
high schools discovered you attended Rosewell High School, she was
the first thing they mentioned.
The
mythical Kennedy Blakewood
.

Every away
game, students would cram into their school stadiums, glancing over
their shoulder for the girl with the kind of looks that didn’t
depend on a new haircut or a better-fitting pair of jeans. The kind
of looks no amount of wealth could buy or mimic.

Everywhere
she went people watched her, and for the most part, she seemed
entirely oblivious to it.

Maybe she had
never experienced life any other way. Maybe she thought this was
what life was like for everyone, that the Varsity Football players
held doors open for every student at Rosewell and that everyone had
to pick from a vast array of party invitations every Friday
night.

As the guest
took their seats, a tall blonde woman floated on to the stage and
up to the microphone. She wore a navy blue dress with matching
heels. Her fingers were weighed down with an array of glistening
jewels.

“
Good evening
to all our guests and thank you for attending the Christmas Brunch
celebrating this year’s graduating class” She declared ebulliently,
“For those of you who do not know, I am Rosewell’s PTO President,
Victoria Blakewood.”

Suddenly it
all made sense, the aura of elegance and glamour that all
Blakewoods must be born with. She spoke like Kennedy, eloquently
and intelligently.

“
I would like
to welcome our seniors and wish them a heartfelt congratulations on
behalf of the PTO.” She radiated gravitas.

“
This year’s
graduating class proves to be even stronger than Rosewell’s already
exceptional track record, and we look forward to sharing in your
goals and ambitions, as well as your successes and accomplishments.
Starting in January we will be holding weekly meetings for any
parents interested in attending which will attempt to facilitate
your son or daughter’s passage to college and improve your
understanding of the process involved.”

She smiled
faintly before continuing, “As the mother of three Ivy League
students I will be leading these meetings, and will be happy to
help or advise whomever I can. The next six months before
graduation are vital to a student’s academic career, let us all
take the journey together.” She finished articulately. “For any
further questions, feel free to approach myself or the Senior Class
President, my daughter, Kennedy Blakewood, at any time.” she
concluded, “enjoy your meal, Merry Christmas and a Happy New
Year.”

She raised a
crystal flute of bubbling champagne to the sitting guests and
re-joined her table as the meal commenced. 

“
Isn’t it a
bit early for champagne?” Hannah’s father asked, leaning over to
whisper to his daughter.

Hannah
shrugged, watching Mrs Blakewood talk animatedly to Brooke’s
mother, flailing her hands dramatically, stopping every few
sentences to take a large swig from her drink.

As soon as
her glass was empty she pushed it towards the growing collection of
empty glasses next to her plate and waved at the waiter, scooping
another flute off of his tray blithely.

“
This Kennedy
Blakewood sounds pretty accomplished…” Hannah’s mother
started.

Hannah, who
had been lost in the dream of how it must be to have a family who
gave you every opportunity you needed to be successful and happy,
snapped out of it angrily.

“
Yes, she is.
Her parents aren’t travelling artists, which is a good start” she
retorted fiercely, before jumping to her feet to greet Marie and
Jessica who were waving at her from across the hall.  
 

17.

Matt leaned
against a broken lamppost stiffly. A light layer of frost clung to
the fibre of the black sweater he’d bought at the concert of an
obscure tribute band. He pulled the hood down over his face. He
almost looked threatening.

He was
staring intensely across the street through the large windows of an
upmarket restaurant. The light cascading from the low hanging
chandeliers reflected in his shining ravenous eyes.

He was
watching six figures gathered around a large dining table. The six
blonde heads stood out amongst the dull mix of browns seated at the
surrounding tables.