CCSS

R.1, R.3, R.4, R.6, R.7, W.3, SL.1, SL.2, L.4, L.6

The Perfects

Perfect family. Perfect house. Perfect life. Yeah, right.

November 2023

by Sarah McCarry

deployed

sent out to be used for a particular purpose (often used to talk about sending military troops on a mission)

The organization deployed dozens of medical aides to help victims of the hurricane.

photo credit: Microgen/Shutterstock

casualties

people who are hurt or killed in an accident or war

I felt sad reading about all the casualties caused by the earthquake.

photo credit: Reezky Pradata/Shutterstock

porcelain

a hard, white substance that is very delicate

Whenever I visit my grandma, I love looking at her collection of beautiful porcelain plates.

photo credit: Viktor1/Shutterstock

gaping

wide open

There are gaping cracks in the road that need to be repaired.

photo credit: PW Photograph / shutterstock.

ominous

suggesting that something bad is going to happen in the future

The fog made the forest look especially ominous and it worried me.

photo credit: Solarseven/Shutterstock

PART 1

Max remembered the first time Mom showed him the house. It hadn’t looked cursed online. It had looked exactly like what she wanted: a big old house on a hill overlooking the ocean.

Mom had scrolled through the pictures with shining eyes. The house had room for her painting studio. It had a garage for Dad’s workshop when he finally came home for good. There was a bedroom with shelves for Lindy’s dinosaur models. There was another bedroom for Max with a view of the storm-colored sea.

“It’s a little bit of a fixer-upper,” Mom had said. “But that’s perfect. We can work on it as a family.”

Max had kept quiet. He didn’t say what he was thinking—that they hadn’t done anything as a family for a long time. Would they even remember how? Dad had been in the military since way before Max was born. He was often deployed overseas. Max was used to living without Dad for months at a time. He was used to moving every year. He was used to not making friends because it was easier to be alone than it was to say goodbye.

He just wasn’t used to staying.

“Cool,” he’d said instead.

Image of a laptop showing text, "Breaking News"

Shutterstock.com

Mom laughed. “That’s it? ‘Cool’?” she said. “Help, my son is turning into a teenager.”

Later that same night, Max came into the kitchen. Mom was still in front of her laptop. She looked exhausted. Max was sure she had been crying. She saw him and slammed her laptop shut.

“Baby, why are you up?” Her voice was full of forced cheer.

“Just thirsty,” he said. “Mom, you should go to bed.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I was looking at pictures of our house again.”

He knew she was lying. He’d seen the screen. She couldn’t sleep for the same reason he couldn’t. She’d been looking at the same news story—the story from where Dad was deployed. He’d read the headline on his phone before bed: Multiple Casualties in Roadside Attack.

Max filled a glass of water and chugged it down.

“Night, Mom,” he said.

“Good night, Max,” she said.

When he turned back to look at her, the computer was already open again.

PART 2

As it turned out, “fixer-upper” actually meant “total disaster.” But by the time they realized it, it was too late. Max’s family had already loaded the car and driven west and north.

Lindy spent all of their drive through Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and Oregon telling them dinosaur facts. When they got to Washington State, the rain started. Even Lindy got quiet. Water came down in sheets as they pulled up to the new house.

“It rains a lot in Washington,” Mom said. She didn’t sound excited anymore.

They stared out the blurry car windows. It was only four in the afternoon, but the sky was almost black. The house didn’t look like something that would unite them as a family. It looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Is that a hole in the roof?” Max asked quietly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mom said with a fake smile.

“Why does the front porch look like that?” Lindy asked.

“It just needs a few repairs, sweetie,” Mom said.

Lightning lit up the sky. Thunder boomed. Uh-oh, Max thought. We’re really in for it.

PART 3

Illustration by Randy Pollak

The movers brought their stuff a few days later. Most of it stayed in boxes for weeks. Lindy said her room had ghosts in the walls. Max was pretty sure the ghosts were squirrels. Or rats.

They had been in the house for a couple of days when they started calling the wall in Mom’s studio the Perfects’ Wall. It was the one part of the house that looked normal. The plaster was smooth. The ceiling overhead didn’t leak. Mom put up a framed picture of their whole family on the wall.

The Perfects’ Wall looked like it belonged to a happy family. The Perfects didn’t scan the news for stories about a war. They lived in a house that wasn’t falling apart. They ate dinner together as a family. They didn’t get into fights at school. They had birthday parties—and friends to invite to them.

The Perfects’ Wall was where they sat when they video-chatted with Dad each week. “We want your father to want to come home to this house,” Mom joked.

At least Max thought she was joking. What would Dad think if he were to see what the house was really like?

PART 4

Max was leaning against the Perfects’ Wall one afternoon when Lindy started screaming.

“Max! Help! Max!”

Max didn’t think. He just ran. He found his little sister standing outside the bathroom. She was ankle-deep in water.

“I was brushing my teeth!” she cried. “The sink just fell over!”

The old-fashioned porcelain sink was lying on the floor, broken into pieces. There was a gaping hole in the wall. Water was everywhere—on the floor, in the hallway.

Max wasn’t sure what to do. Mom was due home from work soon—just in time for their video chat with Dad. Who do you even call when your little sister broke the bathroom? 911? A plumber?

“I’m sorry,” Lindy sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“It’s OK,” Max said, giving her a hug. “It’s not your fault. But we have to make this water stop. Maybe the neighbors can help.”

He ran to the front porch. The street was empty. The clouds were low and ominous. A few houses down, a person pushed a lawn mower. Max sprinted up the street.

The person turned out to be a girl about his age. She turned off the lawn mower when she saw him.

“Hi, new kid,” she said. “I didn’t realize we were neighbors.”

“You’re in my homeroom,” Max said. He wasn’t used to paying attention to the kids around him at school. There usually wasn’t any point. “I’m Max.”

Shutterstock.com

Max struggled for a moment, trying to remember her name. “Jenny, right? Um, do you know anything about plumbing?”

“Sure,” she said. “My dad’s a handyman. What do you need?”

“I need you to come with me,” Max said. “Right now.”

She followed him down the street to where Lindy sat crying on the porch. Water gushed out the front door.

“Oh, wow,” Jenny said calmly. “OK. We need to shut off the water main. It’ll be underground, beneath a cover. Help me find it before you flood the whole neighborhood.”

Lindy ran to the side of the house and poked through the tall weeds. Max searched in front of the porch.

“I found it! I found it!” Lindy yelled. Max and Jenny ran over.

“That’s it,” Jenny said. “Take off the cover. Pull the lever. It shuts off the water to the whole house.”

Max pulled and pulled the rusty lever, but it didn’t move. Jenny reached in and pulled with him. Finally, it lifted. The flood of water pouring down the steps slowed.

“Come on. I’ll help you clean up,” Jenny said.

PART 5

The three of them ran up the stairs to the bathroom. Water was everywhere. “Wow, this place is a dump,” Jenny said. Anger flashed through Max. Then it faded.

“Yeah,” he said. “It kind of is.”

“Well, it’s nothing you can’t fix,” Jenny said. “My dad and I can help out. Where do you keep the mop?”

Just then, Max heard Mom open the front door.

“Mom’s going to kill me!” Lindy cried.

“Why would she do that?” Mom yelled from the front hall. “What is all this water?”

And then she was behind them.

“Oh, no,” she said.

Max couldn’t read Mom’s face. Was she angry? Sad?

And then, she started to laugh. It was the kind of bright, clear laughter he hadn’t heard since before Dad left. Soon he was laughing too. And then Jenny. And finally, Lindy.

“I can’t believe this house!” Mom yelled. “It’s a nightmare! Who’s your friend, Max?”

Friend, he thought. For the first time in a long time, he thought the word might turn out to be true.

“This is Jenny,” Max said. “She helped me shut off the water.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Mom said. “Want to stay for dinner?”

“Sure,” Jenny said. “Let me just call my father.”

“That reminds me,” Mom said. “Kids, it’s time to call Dad.”

Max turned, ready to head upstairs to the Perfects’ Wall.

“You know what?” Mom said. “I want to show your poor father this sink. Let’s call him from here.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked.

“I’m sure,” she said. A big smile stretched across her face.

And this time, it was the realest smile he’d ever seen.

ACTIVITY:
Inference

You've just read “The Perfects.” Now it’s time to try this activity.

Tip: An inference is something that is not stated but can be figured out from clues in the text.

What to do: Imagine that you are Max. It’s a few days after the house flooded. You’re writing in your journal. Make inferences to complete each sentence. For clues, go back and look at the story.