Perfection isn't {Perfect} // kaylin

{I n d r a z a n e . M a y n a r d}

My brother used to tell me life wasn't a race. I would've believed him had I not been stuck at the back of the line, trying to catch up.

Funny thing is I'm fast. In eighth grade physical education, I won every race. Never did I cease to finish first. The physical characteristics that I've inherited from my parents allow me to accelerate farther than many others. Physically. But definitely not mentally.

Even though I'm the fastest runner, always up at the front, mentally, I lag behind. I guess that's why running seems so painful for me. It only reminds me of how behind I am. Naturally, I'm slower in mind. I don't understand things as quickly as many others do, which only brings my confidence down.

Yet, right now, I am running. Not for enjoyment, but for pride. When you know you can't do anything useful, it's good to do find something you can do, even if it's a useless talent. What I've learned is that it just makes everything that least bit better.

Keeping a steady pace, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. I take a deep breath, finally spotting my destination. My father managed to find me a job at the market. Work? Well, that didn't work too well last time. My own clumsiness always seems to find a way to ruin my entire reputation. My curiosity, too.

It's out in the business world where I realize everything isn't as perfect as I see it. Last job I had was in a factory, where I was supposed to help with the development of technology. Keeping my optimistic attitude, I suppose that working at the market will turn out better. There, I don't have to use my knowledge or lack thereof. Instead, I just need to put on a happy face, be friendly with my customers, and ring up their purchases. Not too difficult, right?

I slow down as I reach the district square, heading for the market. I finally make my way through the door and take my place behind the counter. Some guy starts explaining it all to me, but of course, I don't listen. Why would I? Instead, I fiddle a bit with my thumbs and watch as customers come in and out. When he's finally done explaining, I sigh in relief, situating myself on my stool.

I smile, waving to some of the customers as they walk through the entrance. Then I remember what my mother said. "Indrazane, I like your optimism, but sometimes, you really need to stop acting like such a child." I stop waving, realizing how silly it must look.

The activity slows down and I'm stuck sitting behind the counter with nothing to do. So I decide to think about boys: definitely one of my favorite subjects. Resting my head in my hands, I sigh, thinking of all the cute guys I know and trying to depict them in my head. When I'm bored, I like to rate them. Of course, because there's almost no one in the shop at the moment, I just have to imagine boys in my head. So, I go through all of my past crushes, boyfriends, everyone.

"Carter Vaughn, 7. Devyn Leoyn...hm...4," I say aloud, bored of my job already. My mind stops at one boy. Surge Alder. Okay, he hadn't been my boyfriend or anything, but he had definitely been a crush. My dreamy smile turns upward as I gradually remember him. Hiding out in his shop, running away from one of my first attempts at actually working, falling for him as we walked...where were we walking again? Oh gosh, I couldn't remember.

"10," I say softly, almost shyly, as if he's actually there. It's been so long, hasn't it? Already a little over a year since I saw him. Once. Only once. Yet, it's like one of those crushes that never go away, just because they're so incomplete. It's that feeling when you first meet someone and they suddenly seem like Prince Charming, even though they're sometimes the opposite. And the second time you meet them, they end up losing their sparkle. But I never met him a second time. Only a first.

My smile gradually turns upside-down as I remember him in the games. Maybe that was meant to have been my second time. Sure, I didn't talk to him or meet him again, but I watched him. I watched insanity take him over the top as he ran naked through the arena. That's wasn't the Prince Charming who had allowed me to hide in his shop on that fine autumn day. That was someone else completely. But then he died and I tried to push the memory away.

Prince Charming wasn't supposed to go insane and then just...die. Prince Charming was supposed to win. So maybe Prince Charming was someone else; or maybe he didn't exist at all.

"Not a 10," I say, trying to take back the words I'd said before. I tried to redo my rating, but I couldn't. Honestly, no number could really sum that odd boy up. I shrugged, trying to erase him from my memory, trying to erase boys from my memory.

I often spend too much time thinking about finding my "Prince Charming." Were all of the storybooks lying? Of the boys I've met and fallen for, I've never quite found perfection. I immediately wonder if it's selfish to want perfection.

It is.

Or maybe I'm the one who isn't quite perfect enough.

Either way, I remove my elbows from the counter, and lift my head from my hands. Glancing at the clock, I realize I still have a long day ahead of me. Oh, gosh.

The small shop, which barely passes for a market, is almost deserted, until the door opens and someone walks in. A girl actually. "About time," I whisper to myself. I wave and say, "Hi," but then realize my stupidity as I once again, recall my mother's words.

I suddenly long for someone to talk to. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep doing this job, but I'm pretty sure not for very long. Not enough people coming in here, which means less people to talk to, which means a less happy Indrazane Maynard.
On the positive side, I haven't screwed up yet.

I watch the girl who had just entered the store; it's not like I have anything better to do. All I want to do is get out of this place and go find something better to do. If only Marcus was here to keep me company, or one of my friends from school. But of course, I know I just have to do it. I have to give this job a chance, for the sake of my father and for the sake of myself.

Life isn't perfect. Perfection isn't perfect.