Faking Perfection

Izzy

I start every morning the same way. First, I get up to my alarm clock at six, despite my body protesting, and then I take a shower, apply a light layer of makeup, and pull my hair into a neatly gelled-back bun per the Leighton Academy dress code.

I've done this routine for the past four years, and I've always ensured to never miss a step. If I did, I'd risk being caught, and the repercussions of that would be too much to bear. I have to be perfect at all times. No mistakes.

Dressed in a khaki knee-length skirt and navy blue polo with the school emblem embossed on the chest, I head downstairs for breakfast: a banana and a protein shake. My mom is already cleaning the kitchen from last night's dinner of steak and vegetables, looking pristine and put together just like me. We are one and the same. At least, so everyone thinks.

She smiles when she sees me. "Ready for that huge test today? It's in biology, right?"

I eagerly nod as if the thought of taking a test excites me. As if reading and studying are something I'm passionate about—anything to make her believe me. "I've studied for days. Of course, I'm ready. I have to be if I'm going to be half as good of a doctor as you, right?"

She places her hand on my cheek, stroking the skin with the pad of her thumb, and just for a second, I start to regret this facade that I've been faking for years. It's not entirely my fault though. My parents have unintentionally put expectations on me that I'll fall in my mother's footsteps. Growing up, they assumed I'd love to read books just like her. After all, I'm their only daughter, so a part of me feels like my mom was hoping for her mini-me. I won't break that dream of hers, so I'll keep the facade going for a little while longer.

"Nobody is expecting you to become a doctor," she reassures me, almost as if she can read my mind. "You can be whatever you want."

Ha. Yeah, right. I remember the first time I brought home a paper that wasn't an A. My parents didn't harp on me per se, but I could see the disappointment in their eyes even if they didn't say it. That was the last time I ever brought home anything less than exceptional.

I'm saved by the presence of Everett, my fifteen-year-old brother as he stalks into the kitchen with his brooding aura of gloom that he always seems to carry. I think it's because Dad travels a lot. He's not here most of the time, and although Everett would rather be burned at the stake than admit that's the real reason behind his misery, I know the truth.

Mom eyes him with a sideways glance, attempting to decipher what kind of mood he's in. "Good morning," she says cautiously.

He pops out an airpod and lifts an eyebrow. Heavy rock metal blares through the speakers. "What?"

"I said good morning," she repeats. "Do you have everything you need for school today? I won't be home from work until late."

Shocker. Being one of the best pediatricians in the State requires brutal hours. It's nothing we aren't used to. In fact, we use it to our advantage quite a bit. Between her long hours and my dad playing professional football, our decadent over-the-top mansion is almost always adult-free.

"Yep." He pops the airpod back into his ear and starts to chug a Gatorade, focusing his attention on me. "Ready to go?"

I nod eagerly, desperate to get to school early. Mom's gaze softens over the two of us, tears welling in her eyes as she pulls us in for a group hug. "Such big days for you both," she says. "Izzy's first day of senior year, and your first day of freshman year... I don't know where on earth the time went. Connor is starting third grade for crying out loud! Your dad is so proud of you both. He told me last night that he'll Facetime you later."