Crank Series: Crank Part 52

I found out soon enough that both Chase and Brendan knew the score-and both were interested in me. Brendan only wanted s.e.x; Chase offered love.

Either way, I had my path to the monster.

Later, I discovered that Robyn, my old friend Trent's sister (not to mention an "in" cheerleader), tweaked to stay thin and "pep up." She taught me how to smoke it.

It didn't take long to immerse myself in the lifestyle.

Didn't take long for school to go to s.h.i.t; for friendships and dedication to family to falter. Didn't take long to become a slave to the monster.

My Mom and Stepfather Tried to stop me before it all went completely wrong.

Kristina spent almost a whole year GUFN-grounded until further notice.

But Bree was really good at prying open windows at night, lying with a straight face, denying she had slipped so far downhill.

Nothing slowed me down.

Not losing my virginity to Brendan's rape. Not spending a few days in juvenile hall.

The only thing that kept me sane was Chase's love, despite all I put him through.

He even swore to love me when I told him I was pregnant.

Pregnant. And Brendan was the father. Bree considered abortion. Exorcism. Kristina understood the baby was not the demon. His father was.

But you know this part of the story. You followed me on my journey through the monster's territory.

We wound up here.

Who am I now, three months after I left you, standing on the deck with me, listening to my new baby, crying inside?

I told you then, the monster is a way of life, one it's difficult to leave behind, no matter how hard you try.

I have tried, really I have.

Maybe if Chase had stayed with me, instead of running off to California, in search of his dreams. Then again, I told him to go.

Maybe if I had dreams of my own to run off in search of. I did once.

But now I have no plans for a perfect tomorrow.

All I have is today.

T for Today I'd really like to tell you I have a nice little place with a white picket fence, flowers in the garden, and Winnie- the-Pooh, Eeyore, and Tigger, too, on baby blue nursery walls. I'd like to inform you that I am on a fast track to a college degree and a career in computer animation- something I've aimed for, ever since I found out I could draw. I'd love to let you know I left the monster screaming in my dust, shut my ears, scrambled back to my family, back to my baby, my heart. I could tell you those things, but they'd be lies-nothing new for me, true. But if all I wrote was lies, you wouldn't really know my story. I want you to know. Not a day pa.s.ses when I don't think about getting high. Strung. Getting out of this deep well of monotony I'm slowly drowning in.

Be sure to read Ellen Hopkins's PERFECT.

Perfect is the story of four high school seniors, all of whom have friends, siblings, and a drive to attain "perfection." They each have very different goals, and very different ways of achieving them. Meet Cara, whose parents' unrealistic expectations have already sent her twin brother spiraling toward suicide; Kendra, a pageant girl who stops at nothing in her pursuit of runway modeling; Sean, who uses whatever means necessary to win a baseball scholarship; and Andre, whose real talent seems destined to languish. Just how far does someone have to go to be perfect?

Cara Sierra Sykes Perfect?

How do you define a word without concrete meaning? To each his own, the saying goes, so why push to attain an ideal state of being that no two random people will agree is where you want to be? Faultless.

Finished. Incomparable. People can never be these, and anyway when did creating a flawless facade become a more vital goal than learning to love the person who lives inside your skin?

The outside belongs to others.

Only you should decide for you- what is perfect.

Perfection I've lived with the pretense of perfection for seventeen years. Give my room a cursory inspection, you'd think I have OCD.

But it's only habit and not obsession that keeps it all orderly.

Of course, I don't want to give the impression that it's all up to me.

Most of the heavy labor is done by our housekeeper, Gwen. She's an imposing woman, not at all the type that most men would find attractive.

Not even Conner, which is the point.

My twin has a taste for older women. Before he got himself locked away, he chased after more than one. I should have told sooner about the one he caught, the one I happened to overhear him with, having a little afternoon fun.

Okay, I know a psychologist would say, strictly speaking, he was prey, not predator.

And, in a way, I can't really blame him. Emily is simply stunning. Conner wasn't the only one who used to watch her go running by our house every morning. But, h.e.l.lo, she was his teacher. That fact alone should have been enough warning that things would not turn out well.

I never would have expected Conner to attempt the coward's way out, though. Some consider suicide an act of honor. I seriously don't agree.

But even if it were, you'd have to get it right. All Conner did was stain Mom's new white Berber carpet. They're replacing it now.

Kendra Melody Mathieson Pretty That's what I am, I guess.

I mean, people have been telling me that's what I am since I was two. Maybe younger.

Pretty as a picture. (Who wants to be a cliche?) Pretty as an angel. (Can you see them?) Pretty as a b.u.t.terfly. (But isn't that really just a glam bug?) Cliche, invisible, or insectlike, I grew up knowing I was pretty and believing everything good about me had to do with how I looked. The mirror was my best friend. Until it started telling me I wasn't really pretty enough.

Pale Beauty That's what my mom calls the gift she gave me, through genetics.

We are Scandinavian willows, with vanilla hair and glacier blue eyes and bone china skin. Two hours in the sun turns me the color of ripe watermelon. When I lead cheers at football games, it is wearing SPF 60 sunblock. Gross. Basketball season is better, but I'll be glad when it's over. Between dance lessons and vocal training and helping out at the food bank (all grooming for Miss Teen Nevada), I barely have time for homework, let alone fun. At least staying busy mostly keeps my mind off Conner. I wish I could forget about him, but that's not possible.

I tumbled hard for that guy. Gave him all of me. I thought we had something special. He even let me see the scared little boy inside him, the one not many other people ever catch a glimpse of.

I wonder if he showed that boy to the ambulance drivers who took him to the hospital, or to the doctors and nurses who dug the bullet out of his chest. Sewed him up. Saved his life. I want to see him, but Cara says he can't have visitors. Bet he doesn't want them-scared he might look helpless.

Sean Terrence O'Connell Buff Don't like that word.

Not tough enough to describe a weight-sculpted body.

"Built"

is better. Like a builder frames a house, constructing its skeleton two-by-four by two-by-four, a real athlete shapes himself muscle group by muscle group, ignoring the pain.

Focused completely on the gain. It can't happen overnight. It takes hours every single day and no one can force you to do it. Becoming the best takes a s.h.i.tload of inborn drive.

Drive That's what it takes to reach the top, and that is where I've set my sights. Second best means you lose. Period.

I will be the best d.a.m.n first baseman ever in the league.

My dad was a total baseball freak (weird, considering he coached football), and when I was a kid, he went on and on about McGwire being the first base king.

I grew up wanting to be first base royalty. T-ball, then years of Little League, gave me the skills I need.

But earning that crown demands more than skill.

What it requires are arms like Mark McGwire's.

I Play Football, Too Kind of a tribute to Dad.

But, while I'm an okay safety, my real talent is at the bat. I'll use it to get into Stanford.

The school's got a great program. But even if it didn't, it would be at the top of my university wish list because Cara will go there, I'm sure. She says it isn't a lock, but that's bull.

Her parents are both alumni, and her father has plenty of pull. Money. And connections.

Uncle Jeff has connections, too, and there will be Stanford scouts at some random (or maybe not so) game. I have to play brilliantly every time.

Andre Marcus Kane III Bomb Give most girls a way to describe me, that's what they'd say-that Andre Marcus Kane the third is bomb.

I struggle daily to maintain the pretense. Why must it be expected-no, demanded-of me to surpa.s.s my ancestors'

achievements? Why can't I just be a regular seventeen-year-old, trying to make sense of life? But my path has been preordained, without anyone even asking me what I want. n.o.body seems to care that with every push to live up to their expectations, my own dreams vaporize.

Don't Get Me Wrong I do understand my parents wanting only the best for me.

Am one hundred percent tuned to the concept that life is a h.e.l.l of a lot more enjoyable fun with a fast- flowing stream of money carrying you along. I like driving a pricey car, wearing clothes that feel like they want to be next to my skin.

I love not having to be a living, breathing stereotype because of my color. Anytime I happen to think about it, I am grateful to my grandparents for their vision.

Grateful to my mom for her smarts, to my father for his bald ambition, and, yes, greed.

Not to mention unreal intuition.

My Grandfather Andre Marcus Kane Sr. embraced the color of his skin, refused to let it straitjacket him. He grew up in the urban California nightmare called Oakland, with its rutted asphalt and crumbling cement and frozen dreams, all within sight of hillside mansions.

I'd look up at those houses, he told me more than once, and think to myself, no reason why that can't be me, living up there.

No reason at all, except getting sucked down into the swamp. Meaning welfare or the drug trade or even the cliche idea that sports were the only way out.

Table of Contents Flirtin' with the Monster

Introduction.

Alone On Bree More on Bree My Mom Will Tell You Aboard United 1425 Two Hours into the Flight Hot Landing The Prince of Albuquerque Mutual a.s.sessment I Got in a Car with a Stranger Small Talk Shrank to Minuscule You Call This a Castle?

Not My Type At Least I Had Something Dad Had to Go to Work He Worked in a Bowling Alley I Opted Out Not Quite Silent The Screaming Of Course, When I Was Little Okay, Over the Last Few Years Dad Hadn't Paid His Cable Bill The Rules She Went Inside I Must Have Moaned The Wind Blew Up Bree? Who Was She?

I Wanted to Know Him, Too The Return of Guinivere That'll Teach Me Toss-and-Turn Night Through the Keyhole So Much for Sleep I Hid Out for Three Days I Even Spent Time at the Bowling Alley He Hadn't Changed After All You Fly Until You Crash Dad Crashed He Knew It, Too His Mom Was at Work He Wanted to Kiss Me First Kiss The Week Flew By Somehow the Place Looked Different Choices, Choices You Have to Remember We Met at the Bowling Alley Just Before the Drop No Time Like That First Time But That's Not Exactly Cool If a Little's Good Although Maybe Because It Wasn't That I Didn't Want to Stop Either For Some Crazy Reason Not Until the Door Opened Like an Idiot The Monster Loves to Talk Dad Said I Was p.i.s.sed Night Had Hung I Thought I Knew the Way Home I Tried to Be Cool Hands And Then I Heard Three Raiders Jackets I Held Tight Dawn Broke About That Time Clueless I Was Supposed to Sleep?

After the Fourth Used Up Woke to Pounding Coming I Filled the Sink His Demon Showed in His Eyes He Told Me Why Anyway My Brain Somersaulted We Sat on the Floor Fifteen Blocks on Foot and a Bus Ride Later Lince Floated Evening, When We Left Dad Asked Where I'd Been One Hour Instead We Returned to Small Talk Dad Went Out I Was Mid-Drip Okay, I Looked Awful So of Course I Did a Really Stupid Thing Adam But First I Had to Pee But That Day So I Said Girls Get Screwed I Considered That One Day and Counting To Speed or Not to Speed?

A Couple of Toots But Right Then It Throbbed the Next Day I Still Wasn't Down When We Landed Tightened Airport Security I Saw Them Then She Caught Sight Homecomings Are Strange My Mom Says "I Love You" with Food Home Sweet Home Despite All Trepidation REGARDLESS.

I Slithered Down the Hall The Door Opened Brain Lag Silence On the Nightstand I Went Straight for the Phone Changed The Phone, Still in My Hand, Rang At Least I Had the House to Myself I Considered Suddenly, However My Luck Ran Out It Got Worse All Thoughts of Bad Habits I Went to Try On the Swimsuit The Tattoo, However, Was As I Pondered His Idea of Love Mom Knocked on My Door Over Lasagna and Garlic Bread Leigh Knew Later I Tucked That Away Wild Waters Day Dawned Mom and Scott Whether That's Good or Bad Rather Than Face Before Bree As If That Weren't Enough Right Then, Three People Still, When Brendan Came By I Went Home Grounded UFN The Problem with Being Grounded She Cut Me Loose I Pondered That Did It Show?

We Drove Down by the River One Spoon I Had to Explain In That Quite Hot Moment Chase Wanted to Walk Around the Mall A Second Word of Advice Two Guys in One Day?

Mom Wanted to Hear All About Brendan Inconsistent Me Dear Kristina, Why Was Everyone I Did Cry Then Chase Was Right I Had to Pick Up GUFN Again Leigh Headed Back to School Chase Left Me with Goodies I Watched the Window I Hid Out in My Room Until Dinner I Hoped Not Brendan Was Waiting We b.u.mped up the Road Sat.u.r.day Night Brendan Stoked the Fire Paydirt!

Hair Mussed High Day One Mom's Car Wasn't in the Driveway Which Roused Me Major Mistake I Did I Mostly Managed That Backpack Bulging So Why As I Considered My Answer Giselle?

You Bet I Did I Could Hardly Wait for Friday It Started with a Kiss But It Was Bree Not a Blink of Remorse Have You Ever Brendan Pulled Up I Stumbled up the Driveway Exhausted It Was Mean Close to Empty Brain Waves The Game Replayed Answer Before They Ask Stunned Relief, Disappointment Powerful Words Tried to Beat Mom Inside Leveled Light-Headed Northern Nevada Autumns No Answer Timing Is Everything We Went into Her Room She Forgot to Mention This Time He Talked at Me Awhile Longer The Next Few Days I Gave Up the Bus I Meant Okay, the Air Races Intervened Robyn Was Game Wolf Whistles We Found Our Box Three Races Robyn Wanted the Whole Story Now, You Might Think Before I Met the Monster But Now Nothing Problem Number One: School Problem Number Two: Relationships Problem Number Three: Connections Problem Number Four: Feeling Good Feeling Good I Would Celebrate Several Ways In One of Her Better Moments Celebration Two Half of Me Let's Just Say I Got to Go Ecstasy Is Hard to Describe Chase Was Right There I Was Aglow Unforgettable Birthdays Elevation I Don't Know I Was Cinderella If You Guessed Exiled I Spent the Next Day Burned Out Jerked Awake Report Cards?

Anyone Could Have Come Along He Got Out of His Car I Wasn't Scared-Yet Tough Girls Cause and Effect Back in My Room Resolutions Other Problems Crank, You See By Wednesday The Good ...

... The Bad ...

... And the Ugly I Did Think Twice I Became an Instant Celebrity Clear Blue Easy I Went Through Sat.u.r.day My Appointment Was at Two Planned Parenthood I Already Knew My Options The Realization.

Pa.s.sing Out Voices Oh Yeah, I Was Fine Chase Steadied Me He Drove Me Home-Slowly My Mom?!?!

The Kitchen Was Warm.

Somehow She Didn't Notice I Opened My Mouth Omens! Great!

I Thought About Calling Leigh Snow Began to.

Snow Day Too Much I Needed Two Things How Big I..

Mesmerized More Choices I Won't Bore You.

Highs The #1 Best Thing.

Lows.