Escaping Perfect Read Online Free PDF

foggy mirrored wall behind the counter. My hair was all but shaved in the back and around my ears. Daria had kept it slightly longer on top, so that a few stray curls fell over my forehead, but those curls were now blond. I looked nothing like myself. But damn. It turned out I had some serious cheekbones. At least that’s what Daria had told me.
    I’d also stepped into Daria’s bathroom and popped out my contacts, replacing them with my rectangular tortoiseshell glasses. The more disguise, the better. I felt likeI looked older—more sophisticated—this way. I wondered what that cowboy from the alley would think if he saw me now. Not that it mattered. Was that really how you wanted to meet someone? When he was busy crawling out some other girl’s window? I shouldn’t have been thinking about romance anyway. I had enough on my plate. Like securing a job and a home and making my new identity stick.
    â€œYou sure? ’Cause we get pretty busy around here,” Fiona said, walking along behind the counter with the bussing bin, tossing used plates and cups in at random. “You gotta be quick on your feet.”
    â€œPretty busy” was an understatement. We were standing smack-dab in the middle of the lunch rush, and every booth, table, and stool in the small L-shaped restaurant was taken. There were kids on their lunch break from school, a pack of guys probably from the nearby college taking up two eight-tops near the back, and some business lunches, too. Not that I was surprised. If the scent of the burgers and the thickness of the shakes were any indication, this place deserved its popularity.
    â€œI can do it, I swear,” I said as I kept pace with her across the counter.
    One of the more random and controversial policies at the Worthington School was that each semester everystudent had to hold down a different campus job. The kids of the very wealthy and very connected would take on blue-collar tasks like sweeping the gym and cutting the lawns and, yes, waiting tables at the school café. Parents were always up in arms about it, and a lot of students complained, but I secretly liked it. It was nice to get out of my single room and be around other people, to be active. And waiting tables had been my favorite. Aside from my few casual friends, I barely ever interacted with my fellow students unless they were paying me to do their work—about the only thing I’d ever done wrong until yesterday. At the café I’d had a couple of actual conversations about things unrelated to school. Music, movies, books, life. It was like Mardi Gras. As if I’d ever experienced Mardi Gras.
    â€œAll right, then. You can stash your stuff in the back, wash your hands, and grab an apron. I’ll give you a four-hour trial, and if you pass, you can meet my dad, Hal. He’s the owner.”
    â€œCool. Thank you for the opportunity.”
    I barely kept a straight face. It was all I could do to stop myself from turning a cartwheel in the middle of the diner. Fiona’s bin was overflowing by now, and at the end of the counter were three half-full glasses of soda.
    â€œHere. I’ll get those,” I offered, giddy. I was employed!I wasn’t going to go broke! I could buy clothes! Maybe I’d even get my ears pierced so I could wear dangling earrings and my neck wouldn’t feel so naked without my hair brushing against it. Pierced ears. My mom would die.
    I pressed the three glasses between my fingers, holding them the way I’d done a million times at the café and, yes, showing off a bit. When I turned around to head for the kitchen, the front door opened, and a guy with dark hair wearing some kind of sports uniform caked in sweat came flying through.
    â€œSorry, I’m late, Fi!” he said with a grin, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “But we won!”
    â€œI’m so happy,” Fiona said flatly. “Now go wash up before I murder