The Perfect One

The Perfect One

" Is there something funny about the death of Caesar that you'd like to share with the rest of the class?" Mrs. Camden, 12th grade AP History teacher, asked. She slammed the chalk down and swirled around to face her wayward pupil, with a look that she hoped portrayed a patient saint but was an unnerving glare. Immediately, the 6'1, solidly built girl named Stephanie Palmadesco, stopped grinning, dropped her head, and shook it, managing an awkward "No." "Well then, why are you sitting there grinning like that?" Mrs. Camden asked. "Because I'm trying to focus the microchip camera that I've got welded to my braces on the blackboard." "Because you're writing on the board as you explain the subject and then erasing it faster than we can write it down. Cellphones aren’t allowed in class, so I can’t record you." " Because this class is kicking my butt, and I've got to pass it no matter what to keep up with... The Perfect One." Is what Stephanie wanted to say but didn't. Instead, she tried to make herself, impossible for a girl of her measurements, small and shrugged her shoulders. The blush of shame rapidly bloomed over her face as the snickers of her classmates increased. Mrs. Camden sighed in an exacerbated way and turned to resume the lecture. Just then the bell rang, and the class sprang to life as the sound of dozens of students passing up their workbooks and sliding their history books under their desks, drowned out the voice of Mrs. Camden, who was giving instructions on what to study for the upcoming final exam.

The final exam. That was the reason for all this nonsense. Stephanie ran her tongue across the front of her braces as she slammed the door to her locker. If she hadn't been doing so badly in a class that was relatively easy for the rest of the planet, then she'd wouldn’t have had to go to such extremes. She'd tried getting out of the class, no luck as the regular history classes were all full. She'd tried talking to the counselor, who'd said she understood because back when she was a girl- Stephanie had tuned out after that. And she would have asked Mrs. Camden for help, but she could never quite get past that superior all-knowing attitude. And as for her parents, they were both less than useless. All they cared about was The Perfect One, aka her younger twin brother, Andrew.

" Hey, Beetlejuice!" Andrew shouted right into her left ear. Speak of the devil, Stephanie thought, as her brother Andrew sidled up beside her. He was tall, nerdy and handsome, that is if you liked mousey brown hair and dull eyes framed with Dahmer glasses. Stephanie punched him in the shoulder, and Andrew grinned. "Hey, don't blame me! I've been trying to get your attention for a while now." He then proceeded to bore her to death about his latest tech obsession, never minding the fact that it was a one-sided conversation, all the way from the time they sat down on bus until the pulled up outside their house.

The Palmadesco estate, if you can call it that, was a defunct library that her father was quote "in the process of renovating”. The truth was, the house had been in a state of renovation ever since the twins were 5 and though they were 18, it hadn’t progressed very far. In fact, the front doors of the house were the original library doors, that proudly proclaimed that they were open from 8am - 6 pm and to ring the doorbell for entrance (their neighbors knew better and would knock if they needed anything). And so, it never failed that a few times a year some unsuspecting soul would ring the doorbell fully expecting to be admitted into a library. Her father lived for these moments. Instead of being greeted by a timid librarian, the visitor was beamed at by a large jolly middle aged Italian man, who was as gregarious as he was friendly. After he wheedled the story of their lives out of them, her father would then give them his. He spewed unwanted facts about the history of the house to the already confused guest as well as gave them an unsolicited guided tour of the property. The family sympathized with their father’s victims, but in the end thought it best to humor him for the sake of peace in the family.

At dinner it was discovered that The Perfect One had gotten into West Point. The over exaggerated praise of her brother and utter lack of care for her existence was too much for Stephanie to bear. She quietly left the table and retreated to her room. Safe now, in the only place she could truly call her own, she critically surveyed her domain. Flashcards of important dates, people, and places littered the floor as well as some wadded up paper, empty ramen cups, and wait for it, Stephanie peaked under the bed and sighed with relief when she spotted the two college admission rejection letters that she’d somehow never gotten around to showing to her parents. She moved the clutter around with her foot until she was able to find her microchip reader. She picked it up and then recovered an eye pin from somewhere on her desk to press the almost invisible button on her braces that ejected the microchip. Carefully, she slid the microchip into the chip reader and flopped onto her bed, pen and notebook in hand, just as the voice of Mrs. Camden droned out of the speakers.

The next day was Saturday, and Stephanie woke to the humming of the lawn mower and a banging on her door. "Steph, are you awake?" Before she could answer, the handle on the door turned and Stephanie's mother, Vera, entered. "Hey, put some clothes on. We're going to throw a party for your brother tonight, to celebrate him getting into West Point and I want you to go with me to get some thi-." Vera stopped talking midstream and scanned the room. She took in the sea of paper and hamper piled high with dirty laundry and wrinkled her nose. " How can you live like this? Open a window, it's stuffy in here. Why can't you be more like your brother?" Stephanie rolled out of bed and with two tugs, was able to open her window. The air smelled strongly of cut grass. She stretched stiffly. " I think I'll pass mom, I've got a history final coming up and I really need to study." Vera shrugged. " Well suit yourself. But make sure to clean this room up before you get started. This place looks like a pigsty."

After a quick shower and tidying her room, Stephanie gathered her study materials, and sat down get to work. She set her bright pink study timer for two hours and replayed the microchip recording hoping to gain some new insight, but it was no use. Stephanie's brain just couldn't keep up with all the dates, key figures and the spellings of the names were giving her a headache. By the end of the first hour her brain had quit, and she had stopped the timer and was back in bed reflecting on all the things she could be doing instead of filling her brain with useless facts. The Perfect One chose that exact moment to poke his head into her door and ask if she wanted to volunteer with him at the local animal shelter, because he had a few extra hours to kill before dinner. Cue the halo. Stephanie groaned and with a roll of her eyes moved from the bed and plopped back into her desk chair. "Can't." She replied as she hit the start button on the timer. " I've got to study." Her brother gave a military salute complete heel clicking and left. She heard him say goodbye to their father, who was sitting just inside the entrance waiting, like a spider, for some unsuspecting person to ring the bell so he could have someone to talk to, and she heard the door slam. By chance, she happened to look up and see that her brother was heading down 48th Street, which was in the complete opposite direction of the shelter. That's weird, she thought, is there a new shelter I don't know about? Sensing a mystery, Stephanie quickly inserted a fresh microchip into the brace camera, threw on a hoodie and slipped out the back door.

Living in a historic district, made it easy to follow her brother, because every weekend that there was a hint of sun, the streets were full of visitors looking take pictures and indulge themselves all that the district had to offer. At 73rd Street, she dipped into a shadow to catch her breath and watch as her brother entered a house she'd never been to before. The Perfect One emerged from the house with a worn black backpack, a hat he had turned backwards, and a pair of oversized sunglasses. He spoke briefly to the Hispanic man who was sitting on the concrete blocks outside the house and then crossed the crowded street to Daphne Avenue. The sun was blazing now, and Stephanie was sweating profusely as she prudently waited until the next light to cross the street. Jazz music was coming from somewhere, but all Stephanie could hear was the beating of her own heart and the sound of her shoes on the pavement.

Daphne Avenue was a dead-end street and at the bottom of it there was a party going on. Amid the chatter, laughter and through the thick cloud of weed smoke Stephanie inched closer and closer to the party, making sure to stay on the fringes of the crowd and never make direct eye contact with anyone. She saw Andrew knock three times on what seemed to be just a regular viaduct wall. To her surprise the wall opened, and several people came laughing and stumbling out. "Hey, let's get some beers!" one of the men outside said to a group of people and they all went inside. Thankfully, there were other tall people in the group and Stephanie was able to blend in and she was able to enter the building with no problem.

Inside, the air was cool and charged with a new smell. The smell of copper. It was dimly lit but not so dark as to prevent Stephanie from seeing that there were two roosters fighting inside of a ring of people. The people were shouting commands in English and in Spanish. The teeth grinding high pitched squawk of the roosters was met with more cheering from the crowd. And Stephanie felt a wave of nausea as she saw that one of the roosters was missing a foot. She fell back into the darkness and although it took a minute or two of scanning, she finally was able to locate the outline of her brother in a corner. Numbly, she watched as Andrew took money from a scarecrow looking man with an unshaven face and a silver moon earring that dangled from one of his ears and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then Andrew opened his backpack and before he could find what he wanted, someone shouted "Police!" People began screaming, running, jostling and shoving each other, but Stephanie was frozen in place. Her eyes were glued to her brother’s back. She could hear Andrew and the man arguing. The man was shaking his head and hollering, "Just give me the bag!" Her brother began to nervously dig faster and deeper into the bag. Andrew’s voice shook as he said " Wait, wait. I’ve...I’ve almost go-" Andrew never got to finish that sentence. Amid the growing chaos the thin man panicked drew a pistol from his pants and in front of Stephanie’s horrified eyes, shot Andrew two times in the chest, grabbed the backpack, and fled. As if someone had pressed the FastForward button on life, Stephanie found herself holding the jerking body of her brother and as the life bled from him. One of the officers touched her shoulder and asked, “Ma’am? Can you tell me what happened here?” And Stephanie, though her face was streaked with tears looked up at the officer and grinned.