“I know I haven’t been the best brother, and what I did to Ben was really shitty. So I’m sorry.” He pats you on the thigh, a gesture only a big brother could pull off.
You don’t want to cry, but it means so much coming from him, to hear him say those words. You blink back tears, glance at him really quickly, and say, “Thanks.”
You look out the window the rest of the way, feeling all sorts of relief.
*
Although you weren’t out of school for long, people gossip, and you’re sure there are rumors about a suicide attempt. Some kids stare at you in the hallway, whisper when you walk by. You hear someone say something about an eating disorder but you ignore the talk. The kids who start those rumors don’t matter to you. There are a few kids who are sympathetic and they ask how you’re doing.
You feel good about yourself and the path you’re on. You have Shayna to help you, your parents are being great, your brother actually apologized to you, and you’ve got Jae and Ben to support you. At school, your goal is to get through your classes and avoid drama. Between last year and recent events, you’ve had enough drama for a lifetime.
But there’s one last thing you have to do to put this all behind you.
In English class, the six-word memoirs hang on the wall. Because it was in this class that things fell apart, you need to make it right.
You ask the girl who sits next to you—the one who noticed you bleeding that day—if you can borrow a sheet of paper. She smiles at you and hands you one that she pulls from a spiral notebook.
“You doing okay?” she asks.
“So much better, thanks,” you answer.
On the sheet of paper, you scrawl six quick words and before Mr. Owens starts class you go to his desk and ask if you may borrow some tape because you’d like to add your new six-word memoir to the wall.
“Sure,” he says, and hands you a roll of tape. “We’re glad you’re back.”
“Me too,” you say.
You pass Alex and make serious eye contact with him and give him a smile. It’s a genuine smile, one that conveys something like I’m over it, let’s be over it. You’re not sure if you’ll want to talk to him someday, but smiling at him feels like the closing of a chapter that you needed to end a long time ago.
You take your new memoir and go to the wall where the others are hanging. There are some interesting ones, one about being a basketball player, another about dancing through life, even one about reaching for the stars.
You tape your memoir on the wall. Maybe it will help another girl realize that it can be true for her. Maybe it’ll help someone who doesn’t know how hard things can get. Maybe it will give another girl the strength she’ll need to get through her own battle. Because you’re sure there are others than just you who need help. You hope someone who needs it will read your words and believe them as fiercely as you do.
My eating disorder doesn’t control me.
*
Ben picks you up that afternoon and you suggest a drive to Lone Dog Mountain. You’re not in the mood to hang out at home, and you’re pretty sure Ben’s not up for seeing Todd.
At Lone Dog, Ben parks the car in the lot but neither of you moves to get out. You tell him about that morning’s meeting with Shayna and your parents, and how Todd apologized to you, and how he wants to apologize to him as well. You tell him about plans for family therapy and that things feel better between you and your parents, and they’re okay with the two of you being together. You tell him you feel the best you’ve felt in a very long while.
Ben smiles at your news and moves closer to you.
He puts his hands on your cheeks and says your name.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you back,” you say.
You remember the first day you saw him, that day on the river. That day that you thought was a partially good day, that turned out to be an amazing day. The day you floated on the river with the perfect boy who, just by holding your hand, made you feel all sorts of incredible, way down to the bottom of your toes.
Ben still makes you feel this way.
You want more of those days where you’re filled with warmth, laughter, and love. You know you’ll experience them, because you’re getting well, and you’ve surrounded yourself with people who care about you.
He kisses you, and just like that …
… you’re floating …
… under sun-drenched skies and white clouds …
… back on a river …
… free of the monster …
… that never existed.
acknowledgments
I thought writing the ending was hard, but this, so much more.
Thank you to Adriann Ranta at Foundry Literary + Media, who unslushed and loved this book. Thank you also to all the great people at Wolf Literary. Thank you, Margaret Ferguson, Susan Dobinick, and the incredible team at FSG, for bringing Sad Perfect to life.
To Trish, who has saved me more often than she knows in times of writing despair. You are a friend and writer extraordinaire and will always be my BBFF, forever and ever. I love you, Swishy!
To my best author friends, who have encouraged me through early drafts and rough rejections: Jess Riley, Eileen Cook, Liz Fenton, Lisa Steinke, Amy Sprenger, Jenna McCarthy, and Tracey Garvis Graves. To Amy Hatvany, who told me once, “Remember it only takes the right pair of eyes.” Thank you to my good friend and book supporter Crystal Patriarche, and everyone at BookSparks.
My Chicago author girls: I miss you all more than you know. Thank you for your long-distance love and friendship. I wish more than anything I could hang with you all, talk about our love of books and writing, and do lunch—with wine! You know who you are—much love!
To the members of The Sweet Sixteens—thank you for your mentoring and support, especially to Shannon M. Parker, Marisa Reichardt, Kathleen Glasgow, and Julie Buxbaum. To the amazing Swanky Seventeen admins and crew, and especially to Sara Biren—there’s no way I could have gotten through the final book stages without you all. Your friendship, support, and jokes sustained me.
Thank you to my dear friends Cathy Braner, Robyn O’Halloran, Lauren Byrd, Tara McCarver, and author J. Nathan for reading an early draft and offering insightful feedback.
Thank you to all the teens and readers who have read Sad Perfect. If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, especially ARFID, please know you can get better. Social anxiety, depression, and eating disorders are such debilitating issues that affect the whole family, and my heart goes out to those of you who struggle.