The Perfection Paradox Read Free Page B

several minutes, when Hunter got to his feet, brushing
the stray blades of grass from his baggy sport shorts.
    “ I should
head home… Going to dinner with the family… See you guys at
school.”
    He started
off in the direction of his silver pickup truck, and as he got in
and pulled the door shut behind him he saw the five boys disband
and head down the garden path to the street where their own cars
were parked. Followers, Hunter thought, but he couldn’t help smirking at
the influence he held over them.
    He turned the
key in the ignition and reversed, tampering with his stereo until
the songs from his iPod were pumping through the open
windows.
    Hunter
cruised through the upmarket streets of Rosewell, slowing down in
front of a colossal mansion hidden behind a large metal gate. When
he saw no activity at the end of the long driveway he sped up
again. He wondered when she’d be back.
    Five minutes
later he drove into the garage of his own home, an American flag
above the front door, waving lightly in the breeze.
    “ I’m home!”
he shouted at no one in particular as he bound over the threshold.
He found his mother on the patio, lounging in one of the
extravagant metal garden chairs.
    A cigarette
dangled from her lipstick stained mouth. He hated seeing her
desperately scramble around in her handbag for a pack, let alone
watching her puff on it, content and calm, like a cat licking up a
bowl of fresh cream. It was the habit that bothered him most about
his mother; just above asking questions she already knew the
answers to and her ruthless PDA.
    She was
gazing out over their neatly mown lawn when he ambled through the
intricate French doors. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she remarked.
She’d spent the afternoon playing tennis down at the club with her
friends. They’d have a whole summer’s worth of gossip to catch up
on so Hunter wasn’t surprised to see she was still dressed in her
all white tennis ensemble, she couldn’t have been home long. She
fidgeted with her pearl earring absent-mindedly.
    When it
became clear she was going to say nothing more, Hunter turned on
his heel and started up the stairs to his room.
    His bedroom
was his haven. A double bed was pushed against one wall, layers of
blue and white blankets sprawled across it. Next to his bed, a
wardrobe had been built into the wall. Several t-shirts and boxer
shorts dangled off the wardrobe door that had creaked open in the
breeze blowing through the open bay windows.
    In one corner
was Hunter’s game console, wired up to a widescreen television. A
blue and white seersucker sofa had been placed in front of it. On
the vast desk pushed up against the far wall an overpriced laptop
was hooked up to three massive computer screens. The shelves above
the desk were littered with trophies and autographed
footballs.
    He’d only
arrived back from the cabin the day before, but already his room
was back to its usual state of disarray.
    Hunter
strolled into his bathroom, pulling off his t-shirt, which was
still drenched in cold sweat. He splashed some water over his hot
face and scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. His hair had
lightened and his skin had darkened from a summer spent in the sun.
As a child he’d been adorable, but now he was seventeen, and more
handsome than cute. His sepia eyes were lined with thick eyelashes,
his cheekbones protruded ever so slightly, hollowing his cheeks.
His teeth were white and straight, their pearly hue exaggerated by
the contrast with his tanned complexion. His hair stood up in all
directions, a sun streaked brown. Though it was messy and unkempt
it was what girls most often complimented him on.
    Hunter had
spent the last two months at his family’s lake house; jet skiing
and partying with the other families who owned cabins
there.
    But now he
was back, and the realization that it was senior year slowly
started to dawn on him.
    He already
missed the lazy days at the lake with his friends, sneaking frosty
bottles