Perfection's Past

1

"I felt all emotions strongly. I saw the world vividly. I was able to forget easily. I loved and was loved. I was able to hang on because I had him to lend me strength. He was there for me, even when he was ashamed of himself. He was the only reason I made it through, He emitted life, even in his darkest of times. I was strong enough to endure because of him. I always had him, until I didn't."

Blank green eyes, hollow and hardened from life stared back at me. I glanced at my reflection as I finished getting ready for my very last first day of high school, that's right, it was finally senior year. I wondered if other people saw the same shell of a person who was void emotions, that I saw, or did they just see a normal girl? Do they see the same Alexandra Reid that once was, or the Alexandra Reid I worked so hard to become?

I saw pale skin, a small sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of my nose, and my long chestnut hair hung in thick waves around my face, not a single strand out of place. The reflection in the mirror revealed an attractive but empty girl. I rarely let myself feel any unnecessary emotions, such as; love, sadness, jealousy, lust, or anything of the frivolous sort, but I allowed myself to feel enough to take pride in myself, in my appearance. I tolerated nothing but perfection from myself, and if I was anything, I was perfect.

Relationships and feelings are far too overrated. They only lead to disapoinment and pain, and I can't afford any more of that. I've had enough for several lifetimes, so I simply ceased to feel anything, it's much easier.

Most people don't understand me, and I don't mean it in the typical whiny teenage girl way. No, I mean I truly puzzle people. They look at me and see a stone cold, lifeless girl. They look at me and ponder over what happened to former girl who was so full of life, full of laughter and optimism. I let them ponder, I offer no explanation, that would require far too much of me. I can't be bothered with appeasing the quizzical and sympathetic minds of those in my very small community. I don't need them to fix me, I don't need them to care for me, I don't need anyone but myself. I suppose that might sound incredibly selfish, or perhaps incredibly sad, to some, but I don't exactly care how it may appear to others. As long as I am able to achieve my desired goal. Which in this case is, finish high school at the top of my class, perfect grades, perfect attendance, with minimal interactions with my peers. Then of course to get the hell out my suffocatingly small, southern town of Greeneburne, Missouri.

My departure plan is already set, I received an early acceptance letter from Georgetown along with a nearly full ride scholarship. Not that money is tight in anyway, not in my empty home. This is of course due to my perfect grades, highly above average SAT and ACT scores, and dazzling interview skills.

I break away from my thoughts to lean forward into the mirror and put on a coat of mascara and a swipe of chapstick. I check my outfit for any wrinkles or imperfections, the smart combination of khaki shorts and a navy blouse paired with boat shoes was impeccably ironed and coordinated. Nothing to draw too much attention to myself, but enough to look clean cut and assertive.

I head down the staircase of my large, modern, minimalistic, and very empty house, and head straight to the quiet kitchen. Not a peep of sizzling bacon or early morning chatter that afflicts most homes in the morning. Nothing but the faint hum of the air conditioning unit in the vents above me. I pour myself a cup of coffee that my mother so Kindly put on for me before she left fo work for the rest week. That action is about the extent of her maternal warmth, I'm grateful nonetheless. My mother works for a large law firm in St. Louis, she mostly represents the multimillion dollar businesses of the Mid-West. She used to do most of her work from home, only leaving occasionally for a special case, but about four years ago she opted to work from the firm, deeming me old enough at the age of fourteen to stay home, in our brand new and ridiculously large house, and take care of myself while she stayed in a smaller penthouse two hours away from Greenebrurn, in St. Louis Monday through Friday, only coming home on the weekends. Well, most weekends. Of course, I had everything I needed, she took a major pay raise by doing so, and I was given my first Amex Card and she hired a maid by the name of LuAnne to watch over the house and make sure I didn't end up dead or pregnant in her absence.

I didn't.

After finishing my coffee, I collected my things for school and hopped into my shiny black Audi R8, a present from mummy dearest, and drove the short distance to Greeneburne High. Now, you may be wondering, 'why does a girl who lives in a multimillion dollar home and drives an Audi attend a public high school in this rural town of Missouri?' 

After, our lives took a turn for the worst (though definitely not in the financial department) my mother offered transfer me to a private school, but I declined. At the time I wasn't quite as, well how do I put it? Oh, well I suppose we'll say, "emotionally standoffish", and I chose to be sentimental over the crappy high school my father once loved oh, so dearly. That was before, well, I won't go into the tragedy of what happened to my father.

Once I arrived at school, I pull my car in the parking lot filled with noticeably less expensive vehicles and many, many trucks. As I park my car, which is the only thing I truly let myself love, my vision is assaulted by an obnoxious cherry red Aston Martin whipping into the parking space next to me. The car itself is beautiful, but I can't help but think how much more appealing it would have been in a sleek black, rather than the obnoxiously bright red. I watch from the side of my car, as the driver exited.

The car was gorgeous but the driver still found a way to capture the attention of every single student in the parking lot, and it was easy to tell why. He appeared to be around my age, his height, body build, and facial features were far to mature to be an underclassmen. To be blunt, which I always am, he was extremely attractive. From where I stood, on the other side of my Audi, he seemed to be tall and well built, but the thing that stood out to me first, was his smile. Not in a cheesy was, but his smile held that certain mischievous smirk like quality, so even though I don't know him, I know he's arrogant. 

It took me a moment to realize that the stranger, who must be new because I've gone to school with the same kids since pre-k, was walking towards me. His walk suggested he was confident, I'm assuming he probably came from money and by the glint of the Patek Philippe on his wrist and the obnoxiously colored Aston Martin he just locked, my assumption seemed to be right.

I'm always right. 

As he nears me, his smile broadens and reveals a dimple on his left cheek. I raise an eyebrow as his gaze runs up my body, whether he is admiring my equally as expensive clothing and accessories, or rather my body in general, I've yet to determine, but I can't help but wonder if he approached me sheerly for the fact that I was quite obviously the only other person here that came from wealth. If so, I find myself thinking him to be a shallow person, not that I can judge because I obviously don't associate with any of my peers. 

"R8?" He questions, but it comes out more like statement as he removes his eyes from me repositions them to my car. 

"Obviously."I say cooly, not a hint of emotion in my voice, and nothing but a bored expression on my face. I have a lot of practice with this.

This time it's his turn to raise an eyebrow. He responds anyway, despite my dismissive tone. 

"I'm Carter. Carter, Greene." He states simply, but I detect a bit of an edge to it, as if he expects me recognize the name. He holds out his hand, I'm assuming for a shake. I would scoff at him or give him a glare for being pretentious, but that takes too much effort, and would imply that I care, and I don't, so I just give him a blank stare before I respond with my name.

"Alexandra Reid." I offer monotonously, ignoring his outstretched hand. After a moment he lets it fall to his side, and he casually places his hands in his pockets of his Valentino dark wash jeans, and leans back on his heels, as if he has all the time in the world. 

We stand there for a moment, assessing each other, before I tire of his presence and I give him a dismissive eye roll and leave him standing in the parking lot. 

I can't be late for class, I have to inform my AP U.S Government teacher that I took the liberty of completing every assignment on the syllabus already, and corrected his minor grammatical errors, as well. 

I dislike imperfections very much.