Jenna Guillaume - You Were Made For Me

For my grandparents, Susan and Paul Zampa, and

Shirley and William Rowlands, with all my love.

And for Margie.

J. G.

Published by

PEACHTREE PUBLISHING COMPANY INC.

1700 Chattahoochee Avenue

Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112

www.peachtree-online.com

Text 2020 by Jenna Guillaume

Cover image 2021 by Steffi Walthall

First published in Australia in 2020 by Pan Macmillan Pty Ltd 1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000

First United States version published in 2021 by Peachtree Publishing Company Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Content Advisory:

Please be aware that this narrative contains depictions of verbal abuse, bullying, and alcohol use.

Design and composition by Lily Steele

Cover design by Adela Pons

Printed in September 2020 by LSC Communications in Harrisonburg, VA

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-68263-295-6

Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress.

T he day I created a boy started out like any other.

I woke up at about 6:30 AM and dragged myself out of bed. I wrote a few paragraphs for the short story Id been working on, then I had a shower, brushed my teeth and

This is what youre starting with? Skip to the important part!

Libby, dont interrupt. And this is the important part! I mean, we dont know exactly what happened that day to cause

It definitely wasnt you brushing your teeth.

Youre the one who insisted I was the best one to record what happened. Why are you questioning my methods?

I didnt think youd start by talking about brushing your teeth. Also, the day I created a boy? Really, Katie? Is that what happened?

Okay, the day WE created a boy. We being Libby and me. Better?

Yes. As long as you dont talk about brushing your teeth again. Are we going to have to go over every bowel movement youve had in the last few months, too?

LIBBY!

Do you not think I can do this?

Dont even. Of course youre the best person for the job. But every good writer needs a good editor, right?

Well. I dont know about good

I swear

But I do know Ive got a story to tell. And I can only tell it my way.

My storyour storyis wildand its completely unbelievable.

Its also absolutely 100 percent true.

Well, no truth is absolute. Everything is subjective.

Okay. Its my absolute truth.

All I can do is lay it out there. No matter how hard or embarrassing it might be. Especially when its embarrassing or hard, because then youll know I really am telling the truth. What you make of it from there, of course, is entirely up to you.

Now, where was I

Right.

The day we created a boy. It started out like any other

Declan Bell Jones is the perfect guy, I said with a sigh.

(Ive skipped to the interesting part, as Libby requested. Well, not the really interesting partthat comes a little laterbut the lead-up is important, trust me.)

It was a Friday, after school, and Libby and I were dawdling by the soccer field on our way home so that I could sneak glances at Declan Bell Jones as he trained. He was in my geography class, and Id been staring at the back of his head all year. Id memorized every inch. The ashy blond hair. The tan skin of his neck. The little mole just below his hair line, which his collar caressed every time he moved (which was often; he was a fidgeter).

I thought a lot about what it might be like if I were the one caressing that mole.

Which might explain my marks in geography.

I swear, if I had a dollar for every time you said that, I could afford my own car, Libby said, interrupting my thoughts about Declan Bell Jones and his mole.

You cant even drive, I replied.

Minor detail. She took a bite of the Fruit Roll-Up shed wrapped and twisted around her index finger so that it resembled a weird red monsters claw. Still chewing, she said, Anyway, what did Miss Lui say?

Id hung back after sixth period to talk to my art teacher about signing up to paint a mural on one of the walls around the main quad. The school had designated six areas for students to decorate. They were trying to move away from the concrete prison block look, I think.

They just want free labor, Libby had muttered when the news was announced at assembly that morning. But shed nagged me nonstop for the rest of the day until I agreed to speak to Miss Lui. Thats the thing about Libby. She grumbles that I spend too much time daydreaming, but shes also my biggest supportershe believes in me more than I believe in myself most of the time. Ive known her for longer than I can remember (literallywe met in preschool). We have the kind of friendship where you can tell the other person anythinganythingand we wont take offense or judge each other.

I mean, we even fart around each other.

Thats how you know its true friendship.

She said she thinks Id be great, I told Libby. Marvelous was the word she used, actually. I smiled to myself. Hearing my favorite teacher say that about me had unraveled the nervousness I felt about putting my art (and myself) out there.

Maaaaaaaaaarvelous, Libby intoned, in a pretty good imitation of Miss Lui. See, I told you.

I still have no idea what Id paint though, I said. I mean, its so much pressure! The whole school is going to see it. And it could be there for, like, generations to come. What if its terrible? What if I suck? What if

What if its brilliant? What if its maaaaaarvelous? What if

Libby stopped abruptly, and I turned my head to see what had suddenly caused that look of horror to come over her face. We were nearing the goal area of the soccer field, and standing there was none other the devil herself, flanked by two of her demon minions.

Mikayla Fitzsimmons, Olivia Kent, and Emily McAlister. The unholy trinity.

They were giggling as they watched the boys on the field and hadnt spotted us. Yet.

Uh, lets go back the other way and cut through the parking lot, Libby muttered.

Heres what you need to know about Mikayla Fitzsimmons: shes one of the hottest girls in our year. Tall, blonde, about 80 percent legs. Curly hair that somehow always manages to look cute and controlled, unlike my unruly mass.

Her personality, on the other hand

Shes a total feral.

Libby and I, and the rest of our friends, were not exactly in the cool group at school. Although were not at the bottom of the food chain, either (that sad distinction belongs to Tiff Richardson, who never seems to shower). But Mikayla treats basically anyone who isnt her minionor a cute guylike month-old garbage (the minions only get treated like day-old garbage, lucky for them).