Perfect

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Authors: Natasha Friend
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coming. It made me want to jam a pillow over Ape Face's big mouth to keep her quiet.
    "I need your help, Isabelle," April said. "With the
Daddy part. I mean ... what do I do?"
    I closed my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, she would go away. We could pretend this Conversation never happened.

    Here's the weird thing, on the day of the funeral April
cried and cried. My mother didn't cry at all, and neither
did I, but April wouldn't stop bawling. So how come now
she can just talk about him like it's nothing?
    "Isabelle? ... Hellooo?"
    I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
    "I didn't know who else to ask," said Ape Face. "I
thought maybe you'd have some photos of him."
    I shifted my position on the bed, bringing my knees up
to my chest. "You thought wrong."
    "Oh," said Ape Face. "Okay."
    I closed my eyes again, but I could feel her looking at
Inc.
    "Isabelle?" she said softly. "Do you think she threw
them all out, the pictures?"
    I shook my head. It was easier than answering.
    "Where do you think they are?"
    I looked at her then. "How should I know?" I knew I
sounded mean, but I didn't care. "Ask her yourself."
    "God, Isabelle," she said. "Bite my head off, why don't
you.
    I closed my eyes.
    "I only wanted some help."
    I pulled a pillow over my face. The cool pressure felt
good.
    Ape Face got off the bed. She walked over to the door
and just stood there. I could hear her breathing. All I
wanted her to do was leave.

    "Isabelle?"
    Silence.
    "You're not the only one, you know," she said softly. "I
miss him too."

     

11
    I TOLD NOLA AND GEORGINE about having to
spend the weekend in bed. "I haven't moved in t'. enty-
tour hours," I said. "Except to run to the bathroom."
    "Rough," said Georgie.
    Nola said, "I'm sorry, Isabelle. I wish you could come
over and do homework with us."
    "Yeah," I said.
    It was Sunday afternoon, and we were all three talking on the phone -me from my bed, the two of them from
Nola's house. I could picture them exactly. Nola would he sitting cross-legged on the green corduroy couch in
her living room, twirling a piece of long brown hair with
one hand and holding the phone with the other. Georgie
would he lying belly down on the yellow rag rug in Nola's
room, bushy eyebrows scrunched together tight, trying to
talk and do her math homework at the same time.

    "Hey, where were you Friday night?" Georgie asked. "I
called, but nobody answered."
    It's amazing how quickly a lie can pop out of your
mouth when you need it to. "At the movies," I said. "With
Mom and Ape Face."
    "What'd you see?" Nola asked.
    "Some stupid Disney thing. I slept through half of it."
    Its not that I think they'd he mad at me if I told them
I spent the night at Ashley's. They just wouldn't get it.
They'd want to know how it happened. How did we know
each other, Ashley and me. Then, I'd have to A) lie some
more or B) tell them about Group. And I didn't want to
do either.
    It's weird. We used to he really close, Nola, Georgie,
and me. Our parents called us the three amigas because
we did everything together. We were always over at each
other's houses, or going places with each other's families.
After my dad died, though, it was different. Nobody knew
how to act around me anymore, even my best friends.
They said things like adults would say: I'm sorry about
your father, Isabelle, and Maybe if you got out of bed and got
dressed, you'd feel better. But what did they know? They
still had their dads.
    Going over to their houses was even worse. Their
moms would hug me so hard I couldn't breathe, or they'd just look at me with tears in their eyes. Isahelle, honey. It's
so good to see you. How are you? How's your mom? Every
time they did that I would think about my dad. And every
time I thought about my dad all I would want to do is eat
everything in sight, which you can't exactly do at somebody else's house.

    Pretty soon a person gets tired of saying I'm fine. We're
fine. No, thanks,

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