Better Than Picture Perfect Read online

  Text copyright © 2014 by Stephanie Perry Moore

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

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  The images in this book are used with the permission of: Front Cover: © Andreas Kuehn/Iconica/Getty Images; © SeanPavonePhoto/Shutterstock.com, (background)..

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5.

  Typeface provided by Linotype AG.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Moore, Stephanie Perry.

  Better than picture perfect / Stephanie Perry Moore.

  pages cm. — (The Sharp sisters)

  Summary: Seventeen-year-old aspiring photographer Ansli Sharp, the adopted daughter of a mayoral candidate, learns that her boyfriend is one of the twenty homeless students in her school and decides to reach out to them.

  ISBN 978–1–4677–3725–8 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978–1–4677–4655–7 (eBook)

  [1. Homeless persons—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 5. Orphans—Fiction. 6. Adoption—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.M788125Bet 2014

  [Fic]—dc23

  2013040857

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1 SB 7/15/14

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-4655-7 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-7433-8 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-7434-5 (mobi)

  For

  Tyra Banks

  You are a sister I admire.

  Thank you for teaching young people

  how to be gorgeous on the inside

  and out.

  I love how you pursued your dream

  at a young age and turned it into an

  empire.

  May every person reading this series

  strive to be dynamic like you.

  You show us how to capture

  perfection. Glad your life inspires

  others…proud of you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  AUDACITY

  It’s interesting when the world looks at you and thinks you have it going on, but the way you see yourself is anything but. Not a day goes by without somebody commenting on my looks. “Oooh your honey, tanned-yellow skin is perfect.” “I wish I had your silky, Indian-type hair.” “Mixed people are the most beautiful on earth.” While those comments are always flattering, they don’t do anything to uplift my spirit.

  It’s hard being me. Though I’m a part of a family most would envy, it is tough keeping up with the Sharps, even if you are one. My father is running for mayor of the city of Charlotte for goodness sake. We are in the spotlight, and I’m tired of the brightness.

  My parents work hard and do well. They are lawyers who had a good start because my dad was an NFL player. Money is not a scarcity. I’m just seventeen, but I’ve learned money isn’t everything, and it certainly can’t buy you happiness.

  See, my parents aren’t my parents, and three out of four of my sisters aren’t really my biological sisters. Sometimes I feel the love and affection they try to give is really pity. My real parents were taken from me and my younger sister, Yuri, at a young age. I don’t know all the details, but I know a plane went down, and they were on it. No survivors. My biological mom was from England, and her parents are still alive, but the decision was made to keep me and my little sister with my dad’s best friend and his wife.

  All I’ve ever known was Stanley and Sherri Sharp as my parents. My first memory of a friend is playing with Shelby, their oldest daughter, and she’s never left my side. In the beginning, everything was cool, but in these most recent years as a teenager, I’ve been struggling.

  I’m a senior in high school. I’m about to go out on my own and find my way in the world. However, how can I discover that if I truly don’t even know who I am? The big question mark is: where have I come from? And while I sat in the posh restaurant next door to a big fashion show that’s just taken place to celebrate Shelby’s debut as a designer, I was a little jealous.

  “Do you hear me?” my rude sister Sloan interrupted.

  She was the baby of the original Sharp girls. The other two I admired. Shelby was truly outgoing. Slade dreamed of stardom day and night and thought she was going to be the next Beyoncé or Rihanna. Sloan was irritating and had no regard as to how she said things.

  “I didn’t hear you,” I turned around and said.

  Exasperated, Sloan voiced, “Well, I’ve only been calling your name for hours.”

  “Girl, we ain’t even been in here for hours,” Yuri, my biological sister who was the same age as Sloan, quickly stepped up and said.

  It meant a lot that Yuri would defend me. She was shy. Maybe because Yuri and Sloan were the same age they could relate to each other better.

  “What do you want?” I said to Sloan now that she had my attention.

  “For you to pass the menu. When Mom, Dad, and Shelby come, the three of us want to be ready to order, dang,” Sloan uttered.

  “Yeah, we haven’t been here for hours, but the four of us have definitely been sitting here for thirty minutes or so,” Slade looked at her watch and commented like she had somewhere to go. “A new television show is coming on I gotta see. Just pick something, Ansli.”

  Suddenly the quiet restaurant became full of excitement as the press and paparazzi entered, snapping pictures. It seemed like the president himself was entering, but it was just my parents and Shelby. I wasn’t upset that she was getting a lot of attention. She truly deserved it. She is so talented, and I love her dearly. The green-eyed monster within me was beginning to shine because I felt that I had no talent to develop like she did. Instead of being a sourpuss I grabbed my Nikon, walked toward the door, and started taking my own pictures. One of the professional photographers did a double take at my camera and lens. While most people were satisfied with taking pictures on their low-end cameras, to me, there was still nothing like using the finest equipment to get the best images.

  Shelby came right over to me and gave me a big hug. I was supposed to be taking pictures, and here she was hugging me. “It was so great, Ansli! I hate you weren’t there.”

  “Me too,” I told her honestly. “Snag me a ticket next time.”

  The fashion show she did for up-and-coming designer Sydnee Sheldon was a ticketed event. They only gave her passes for our parents. I knew she’d tell me all about it just like I was there. She tugged on my hand, pulled me closer to her, and said, “Spencer was there, and he asked me to be his girl.”

  We both screamed until we noticed our parents looking over at us like, “settle down.”

  Reporters started asking her a few questions. I saw her inner glow about Spencer and thought of my guy. I started texting Hugo.

  Hugo Green was a Hispanic hunk that I’d been talking to over the summer and for the first few weeks of school. Usually he texted me right back. Maybe his phone was off, battery was dead, or something because, even if he was busy, he usually got back to me as soon as possible. However, he wasn’t texting back, and I didn’t even realize how much I’d grown to depend on him to give me an uplifting word when I felt down in the dumps. Lately, I wasn’t feeli
ng like I belonged to the Sharp family. We’re supposed to be acting like we’re the closest family on earth, and while we were close, something still seemed off.

  “What? Do y’all think you all are special or something?” Mr. Brown, one of my dad’s opponents, obnoxiously said as he tried coming into the restaurant. “Where’s the manager? Get these people away from the door. You can’t even take in any new customers.”

  People cleared the way to let him through. He was such a jerk. He looked to be about fifty and had a shiny bald head with a bunch of lumps on top of it. It seemed like he was almost 250 pounds, and his suit was too small. When he breathed, it looked like he was going to pop a button. Yet, there he stood, thinking he was all that.

  “Sharp, what’s up best friend?” Brown sneered.

  My dad just laughed.

  “Oh what? You think just because you clowned me next door and called me out on domestic violence you’re better than me?”

  “I didn’t say anything about the allegations your wife made on you publicly about domestic violence. Let’s be clear,” my dad responded, clearly wanting to escort us to our seats in order to not cause a scene. But he had to reply because he wasn’t Brown’s punk.

  Mr. Brown stepped in his face. “Yeah, whatever. You act like you’re so appalled

  “Oh, you think I’m not?”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be so naive. After all, those two girls you adopted became yours when their dad took a shotgun and shot his wife and himself. If that ain’t domestic violence, I don’t know what is. And you’re raising his kids, telling the world they are your best friend’s girls,” Mr. Brown stated, almost daring my dad to refute it.

  At that moment, the camera I cared so deeply for fell right out of my hands.

  “You’re a liar!” I screamed, tired of being timid and allowing crazy adults to determine how I act and feel.

  “Ansli!” my mom shouted like she was disappointed in me, as if I’d done something unladylike.

  Honestly, I didn’t care anymore. The cameras were rolling, but I wasn’t going to have this fool saying anything to get attention to win a dumb election and soil the memory I had of my folks in the process. If adults couldn’t check him, I was going to.

  “Just go, Brown,” my dad quickly said, trying to hug me.

  “Oh no, no, no. You’re daughter thinks I’m a liar?” Mr. Brown said as he tried to touch my shoulder. “Ask your dad if I’m telling the truth. I’m surprised you believed everything he said. Heck, you’re a teenager. Y’all all over the Internet these days. You ain’t checked the facts? You ain’t read up on it? You ain’t seen whose names was on the flight that went down over the Everglades that he claims that your parents were on? Anyone who lies like that to their own children who they profess to love shouldn’t be running no city.”

  “Man, get out of here! You’re just trying to turn this into a circus!” my dad yelled.

  “You’re the clown, man. Ask your dad if it’s true. What? Cat’s got your tongue? You ain’t asking him,” Mr. Brown drilled me.

  My mother’s eyes were watering. Though my dad always had his composure, he was shaking. Shelby looked so disappointed. Every sad emotion that was coming across her face was how I felt inside, but add rage to it, and that would define me.

  “How dare you lie to me all of my life?! I hate you! I hate you!” I shouted out as loud as I could to my folks, still feeling that wasn’t even loud enough.

  I had to go tell Yuri. She had to know the truth. Though she wasn’t as old as me, we were only two years apart. She was a sophomore in high school, and she deserved to know the truth as well.

  As I took off to finagle through the restaurant to go speak to my sister, Shelby followed. “Come on, sis! There’s got to be an explanation. You’ve got to calm down. You can’t just believe that man.”

  “You saw our parents. Did they deny it? They were looking straight in my eyes. They had ever opportunity to clear up this so-called misunderstanding, but they couldn’t. You know why they couldn’t, Shelby? Because they’ve been feeding me garbage for years. Well, I’m tired of being a charity case.”

  “Mr. Brown is just trying to make Dad look bad,” Shelby insisted.

  “When you do something bad, no one has to make you look any other way than what you actually look like. Let’s keep it real, Shelby. Did Dad take me and Yuri in all these years because he wanted the voters’ sympathy?”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re talking stupid now.”

  “Yeah, but you better watch out because I just found out my dad shot my mom, and I might have terrible anger streaks in me.” I jerked my hand away from her. I went up to my sister.

  “Yuri, Yuri! Come on. We’ve got to go.”

  “What do you mean? We haven’t even eaten. We just ordered my favorites,” my true sister yelled out, unsure why I was acting like such maniac.

  I tried to get her up, but she wouldn’t move. Dad had broken my heart, and the last thing I wanted to do was break Slade’s and Sloan’s. They thought their parents could do no wrong, or knew best, but that wasn’t the case. If my sister wouldn’t move for me to tell her in private, then all three of them were going to find out.

  “What? What’s the problem?” Sloan said, seeing the harsh look in my eye.

  “Yuri, let’s go,” I said, ignoring Sloan as soon as my parents walked toward the table.

  “Why?” Yuri asked.

  “Because these folks aren’t who we think they are okay?” I blurted out.

  Yuri’s face cringed, like she had just tasted something nasty. “What are you talking about?”

  My mom came over and said, “Ansli, please not now. Let us tell her our own way”.

  Insulted, I huffed, “What? Like you told me?”

  “Tell me what?” Yuri said, looking confused.

  “Yeah, tell her what?” Slade demanded to know.

  “You’re acting like we never knew we were adopted,” Yuri said.

  “I mean they’re not the parents we thought they were. It’s all been a lie.”

  My dad got to the table and said, “Alright, Ansli. That’s enough.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” I shouted.

  “Ansli!” Yuri said, completely disgusted at how I was responding.

  “What happened to your parents, Yuri? What happened to your biological parents? Why are they not here?” I asked my sister.

  “You know why. They were in a plane crash years ago,” Yuri told me wincing as she recalled the unpleasant life-changing information.

  Schooling her, I bellowed, “No, your dad took a gun and killed your mom and then killed himself. Heck, if we were in the house, he might have killed us too!”

  Mom reached over and back-slapped me. I held my face. All my sisters’ mouths hung open so wide a fist could fit into them.

  As my eyes teared up, my mom said, “I’m so sorry, Ansli. I’m so sorry! I just … I just … ”

  Cutting her off I bawled, “What? You’re just showing me how you really feel about me? Your real daughter Sloan gets smart all the time, and you never say anything, but when I tell the truth you’re going to hit me in the mouth?”

  “Come on girls, let’s go,” my dad said to us, after he handed the waiter who was eavesdropping a large bill.

  “Are you kidding? The last place I’m going is home with you guys,” I bluntly told him, rolling my eyes as I headed out.

  “Ansli, wait!” my mom called out like she cared. After she just burned my face with her hand, I was through. I had pain on the inside and out.

  “Taxi!” I yelled when I got out to the curb.

  When the first one passed me by, I put my hand in my mouth and whistled, then the second yellow car I saw stopped.

  “Where to, ma’am?” the young, scrappy, red-headed driver turned around and asked.

  Still fuming, I uttered, “Can’t you just drive straight until I tell you to turn?” Why did everyone want me to comply with their rules? Why did I have to surren
der to their way of thinking? How come I always was pressured to do things their way? Not anymore.

  “Okay, your dime,” the driver said, seeing I wasn’t in a good mood. “But if you tell me where you want to go I might be able get you there faster and save you some money, but you ain’t got to tell me twice.”

  Where was I going to go? My parents had done a great job of providing a roof over my head—or maybe I should call them the Sharps because I just didn’t feel that parent-child thing any longer. Thinking of them made me ill, like I had the flu and it was turning into pneumonia.

  I looked at my phone and realized Hugo had not texted me back. I needed to see him. I needed him to wrap his strong arms around me. His 210-pound frame was fine. Although he wasn’t an athlete, he was more fit than most athletes I knew. Now that I was going through this, having him hold me or maybe even taking our relationship to the next level would be the only thing that could set my upside-down world back right side up.

  I checked one of my earlier emails when we first started talking, and I remembered asking him where he lived, and he’d actually given me his address. It wasn’t like him not to respond to me. I was sure the way he’d been pressuring me hard for sex and had been feeling a girl up, if he was going through anything, maybe we could cheer each other up by getting busy. So, if I popped by, I couldn’t see that being a bad thing, particularly since I was going through a crisis.

  “Great! There it is,” I screeched as I found the address. “Go to 3411 South Watermill Road.”

  “You’re going over there?” The taxicab driver said with disdain.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It’s just a different side of town from where I picked you up. Just making sure you know where you’re going. There’s some Hispanic gangs over there, and I’m just looking out for a pretty girl. That’s all.”

  “Well, I don’t need you all up in my business,” I said to the carrot top, scary-looking driver.

  Later we pulled into Waters Edge, the name of the complex that looked like it needed to be condemned. I started feeling a little uneasy. I was dressed up. If I was going to meet Hugo’s family, I didn’t want them to think I was full of myself. I didn’t wear a lot of name brand stuff to school. Not because I wasn’t proud to wear the clothes, I just was conscious that everyone wasn’t fortunate, and flaunting around what my parents—or should I say Shelby’s parents—could afford didn’t seem right.