Brian Katcher’s second novel Almost Perfect is the winner of the Stonewall Children’s and Young Adult Literature Award, presented by the. Logan Witherspoon recently discovered that his girlfriend of three years cheated on him. But things start to look up when a new student breezes. Almost Perfect was listed by the American Library Association as one of the Best Katcher, author of Playing With Matches, manages a delicate balance here.
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The availability of items requested from other libraries may depend on the policies of the other libraries. With his mother working long hours and in pain from a romantic break-up, eighteen-year-old Logan feels alone and unloved until a zany new student arrives at his small-town Missouri high school, keeping beian big secret.
Everyone has that one line they swear they’ll never cross, the one thing they say they’ll never do. We draw the line. Maybe we even believe it. Sage Hendricks was my line.
Logan Witherspoon befriends Sage Hendricks at a time when he no longer trusts or believes in people. As time goes on, he finds himself drawn to Sage, pulled in by her deep, but sexy feminine voice and her constant smile. Eventually Logan’s feelings for Sage grow so strong that he can’t resist kissing her. Moments later, he wishes he never had. Sage finally discloses her big secret: Enraged, frightened, and feeling betrayed, Logan lashes out at Sage.
Once his anger has cooled, however, his regrets lead him to attempt to rekindle their friendship. But it’s hard to replace something that’s been broken–and it’s even harder to find your way back to friendship when you began with love.
Book Reviews – Almost Perfect
Maybe it was the crippling shin splints. Or constantly feeling like I’d just smoked three packs of cigarettes. Maybe it was the empty stands at every meet, or katchef way the results got buried in the local sports section. The football field was by far the best feature of Boyer, Missouri.
Book Reviews – Almost Perfect « Brian Katcher – Author
My hometown, which barely boasted two thousand people, pumped nearly every tax dollar they could into maintaining the facility. The city of Boyer was little more than a half-dozen trailer parks, an electronics factory, and five churches, but the football field was always pristine.
The maintenance staff mowed the grass twice a week and watered it every day in the summer. The bleachers gleamed, the locker rooms sparkled, and the scoreboard towered like some great pagan idol. The crumbling structure of Boyer High School stood across the parking lot, almost as an afterthought.
Us track poseurs were permitted to run the perimeter of the sacred field, but only when the football heroes had no use for it.
During the fall we had to run laps in the parking lot while the Boyer Bears practiced. One time we were run off by the marching band, which gives you an idea of where we stood in the school food chain.
My friend Jack Seversen katchee I had managed to squeeze in some after-school running, trying to stay in shape for the winter. The cold wind chilled my sweat-soaked body, making me shiver and swelter at the same time. Exhausted and thirsty, I walked a final lap to avoid muscle cramps, then limped toward the watercooler. Even though he’d run as much as I had, he was still vibrating with raw energy.
Thin as a whip and gangly, Jack reminded me pervect a broken fan belt, wildly flailing in no particular direction. Track wasn’t a sport for him; it was merely an excuse to move. The Boyer cheerleaders were wrapping up their practice. I’d heard that in bigger towns, only the pretty, graceful girls made the squads. In Boyer, with a student body of about two hundred, the only membership requirement was a majority of intact limbs and the ability to bend at the waist.
Jack and Kattcher reached the water table.
I chugged a couple of cups, while my friend, in spite of the low temperature, dumped his over his head. He shook like brixn wet dog. Eventually, he managed to focus on me. Even then, his protruding brown eyes spun in their orbits like a weather vane in March.
Jack had that intense mania common in serial killers and car salesmen.
I could just make out Tanya’s form as she did jumping jacks with the others. In elementary school hrian Boyer, you knew all your classmates since kindergartenTanya had been the fat girl.
Then, in eighth grade, most of her body mass had migrated into her chest. She wasn’t exactly bikini material, but she did have a couple of good points. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to press your face into her chest and make motorboat noises. Jack followed me, almost uncomfortably closely, and then suddenly grabbed my shoulder.
In May, we leave this place forever. Don’t spend your last semester moping about your ex-girlfriend. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher. Place a Hold You must be logged in first. The information below is included in your interlibrary loan request. To change this data, submit a Change of Address request, or contact your local library for assistance.
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