I wanted them to see perfection. I ached for it in the deep, dark core of me: to be so good I left other people in the dust. It wasn’t an endearing thing to admit, so I’d never told anyone, save a therapist, once. She’d asked if I thought it was possible to be perfect, and I’d amended that I didn’t need to be perfect, per se, as long as I was the best.
An even less endearing confession: sometimes—rarely, but sometimes—I felt I was perfect, or at least close.
Sometimes I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, like now, slowly brushing my hair, examining the straight line of my nose, the pronounced curves of my cheekbones, thinking: You are beautiful, Jessica Miller. Sometimes, when I thought of myself like a spreadsheet, all my assets tallied, I was filled with pride at how objectively good I’d become. At thirty-two, career on the rise, summa cum laude degree from Duquette, Kappa sorority alum, salutatorian of Lake Granville High. An enviable list of past boyfriends, student loans finally paid off, my own apartment in the most prestigious city in the world, a full closet and a fuller passport, high SAT scores. Any way you sliced it, I was good. Top percentile of human beings, you could say, in terms of success.
But no matter how much I tried to cling to the shining jewels of my accomplishments, it never took long before my shadow list surfaced. Everything I’d ever failed at, every second place, every rejection, mounting, mounting, mounting, until the suspicion became unbearable, and the hairbrush clattered to the sink. In the mirror, a new vision. The blond hair and white teeth and expensive cycling tights, all pathetic attempts to cover the truth: that I, Jessica Miller, was utterly mediocre and had been my entire life.
No matter how I tried to deny it, the shadow list would whisper: You only became a consultant out of desperation, when the path you wanted was ripped away. Kappa, salutatorian? Always second best. Your SAT scores, not as high as you were hoping. It said I was as ordinary and unoriginal as my name promised: Jessica, the most common girl’s name the year I was born; Miller, one of the most common surnames in America for the last hundred years. The whole world awash in Jessica Millers, a dime a dozen.
I never could tell which story was right—Exceptional Jessica, or Mediocre Jessica. My life was a narrative I couldn’t parse, full of conflicting evidence.
I picked the brush out of the sink and placed it carefully on the bathroom counter, then thought better, picking it up and ripping a nest of blond hair from the bristles. I balled the hair in my fingers, feeling the strands tear.
This was why Homecoming was so important. No part of my life looked like I’d imagined during college. Every dream, every plan, had been crushed. In the ten years since I’d graduated, I’d worked tirelessly to recover: to be beautiful, successful, fascinating. To create the version of myself I’d always wanted people to see. Had it worked? If I could go back to Duquette and reveal myself to the people whose opinions mattered most, I would read the truth in their eyes. And then I’d know, once and for all, who I really was.
Want more Ashley Winstead?
Order In My Dreams I Hold a Knife
Reading Group Guide
1. What do you think of true-crime podcasts? What effect do they have on the investigation and development of real-life cases?
2. Shay is not always sure how to navigate her own beauty. How would you describe her relationship to her appearance? How does society punish women who don’t conform to beauty standard but also those who do?
3. Shay references the constant anxiety of being a woman in public. Are you familiar with the feeling? Can you think of anything that would make that fear go away without requiring women to change their behavior?
4. How does Don co-opt the idea of feminism to first introduce his ideas about the roles of men and women to Shay, Clem, and Laurel? Why do you think that tactic is so effective?
5. How do Jamie and Shay differ in their definitions of consent? How would you personally define consent?
6. What is Jamie’s primary motivation throughout the book? How would you characterize his relationship with Shay?