Free A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban Page A

his shoulder. "What do you have now?"
    "A headache," I say.
    "You're a pip all right, kid. Go get a balloon."
    "Dad, we need to register," I say again.
    I follow Dad's eyes to the registration table—or where the registration banner is, anyway. You can't see the table because there are so many people around it. Parents and kids and balloons and more guys in suits with Upgrade buttons on their chests.
    There is no one else here on the M-80 platform. Just me and Dad and Mr. Upgrade. It's almost peaceful here, like we 're on our own little Perfectone island, surrounded by a sea of sharks. Noisy sharks. With luggage.
    Dad is not leaving the island.

Miss Person to the Rescue
    "Back off, Merv."
    It's Miss Person.
    "Mabelline," says Mr. Upgrade. "I was just telling the gentleman here about the exciting features of the Perfectone M-80."
    "Tchaikovsky's checkbook, Merv. He just bought a D-60 in December. Find another fish."
    Miss Person pulls us to the shore of M-80 Island. "You'll have to watch out for guys like Merv," she says. "This place is crawling with them."
    She pulls a thick manila envelope out of her purse. My name is written on it in fat purple letters. "I got your registration packet for you."
    Dad nods. He looks pale. "I'd like to sit down," he says. "Someplace quiet."
    Miss Person hands Dad his room key. Then she pulls her marker from her purse.
    "Hand," she says.
    Dad looks puzzled.
    "Give me your hand." She writes
6:30—Meeting Room G
across Dad's palm.
    "That's where Zoe will be playing, six-thirty P . M .," says Miss Person. "You can meet her there."
    Dad nods. "Okay," he says.
    "Now go to your room," she says.
    Dad looks at me. "You'll be okay?"
    "She'll be fine," says Miss Person.
    "I'll be there to watch you play, honey," Dad tells me.
    "I'll be fine," I say. I try to mean it.
    And then Miss Person pulls me off the platform. "Come on. There's someone I want you to meet." She grabs my arm and we cut through the waves of kids and parents and suitcases and ficus trees to an elevator packed full of Upgrade men. She squishes us in.
    "Sixth floor," says Miss Person.
    I look back into the lobby.
    My dad is still standing there on M-80 Island.
    He waves at me. And even though I know the mark on his hand is just Miss Person's note, from here it looks like a giant purple bruise.

Mona
    "This is Mona," says Miss Person.
    Mona is eleven, like me. She is also pretty and blond and has pale pink nail polish on and she looks a little like Lily Parker.
    Which is not like me.
    "Mona has been my student for six years," says Miss Person. "This is her fifth Perform-O-Rama."
    "This is your first?" Mona asks me.
    "Uh-huh."
    "The first can be scary," she says, "but Mom and I are pros. We'll get you through it."
    Mona's mom is Judy. Judy is blond like Mona and has perfect teeth. Judy looks like Lily Parker will look when she grows up. Except that Judy smiles.
    "You can go, Mabelline," says Judy. "We'll take it from here."
    Go? Miss Person is going?
    She has ripped me from my dad and now she 's dumping me here in a sixth-floor hotel room with toothy blond strangers?
    "You girls will do great today," says Miss Person.
"I'd come hear you if I wasn't judging the adult rounds."
    She's not going to be there? Wait a minute, I want to say. What if I get lost? What if I get stage fright? What if I lose my music?
    "What if I make a mistake?" I say.
    Miss Person laughs. "Just keep playing."

How It Works
    Judy pulls the information sheets out of my Perform-O-Rama competition packet and spreads them across the hotel bed.
    "Do you know how this works?" she asks me.
    I don't know.
    Judy picks up a pink sheet. On the top in bold letters it says, HOW IT WORKS . "You'll play twice. Once tonight and once on Sunday," she says. "Each time, you'll play for two judges who'll be reading your music and noting any mistakes. They'll also make general comments about tempo and style and selection. They award points for good things and take away points for