No Such Thing as Perfect by Sarah Daltry

She’ll take care of Lucy and she’ll make sure everything’s done right. Won’t you, Lily?”
    “I will, I promise,” I agreed.
    That night, I sat at the table while Lucy chewed on an old stuffed animal I gave her and my parents talked me through an elaborate daily schedule that involved walks and feeding Lucy and playing and cleaning up her poop. I didn’t care; it all sounded wonderful.
    “Don’t forget that this means you’re going to have to be responsible,” my mother said. “It means you are going to have to figure out how to do these things and still go to dance class and still do your homework and still play softball. You can’t start quitting everything just because you have a dog. People are counting on you.”
    “I know. I told you. I’ll be perfect.”
    I was at first, too. It was late spring and everything was winding down, so I could balance all my responsibilities. And the summer was even better. I woke up to walk Lucy and then we went to the park and played and I made sure she was bathed and fed and my mom didn’t even have to look at her; she didn’t want to and whenever Lucy would try to show her affection, my mom told me to take her outside, but it didn’t matter. I loved her and my dad was right; I was good and I was responsible and I wouldn’t screw it up.
    It was all because of math class. I’d gotten a B on my test and my mother was going to have a fit. I stayed after class to talk to my teacher, but he took too long coming back from the teachers’ lounge and my bus left without me. School was almost two miles from home, but I knew what would happen. I knew I had to try and I ran. I ran harder than I had the lungs for and I ran because I had to get home. I had to make it and I had to take Lucy for her walk and make sure my mom never knew. The B alone was going to get me in trouble, but if I screwed up the schedule...
    My knees hurt when I got home. Lucy was in her cage in the basement, where she slept while no one was home, but she had peed all over everything. I was nearly an hour late and she couldn’t wait. Her gorgeous brown eyes were so ashamed, but it was my fault. If I had gotten an A like I was supposed to, I wouldn’t have missed the bus and Lucy wouldn’t have had to pee all over herself.
    “It’s okay, Lucy. It’s okay. You wanna take a bath? Let’s go for a walk and then bath, okay?” I asked. I knew I had to make the walk quick, because I had to get back, clean her off, and change the papers in her cage. I had to make it perfect.
    I took Lucy for her walk, got her bathed, and I was changing her cage when my mom came home. Early for once. She’d had a headache and when she saw me carrying the papers, I was scared of what came next.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “I’m just changing Lucy’s cage.”
    “Did she have an accident?”
    “Sort of. Mom, before you get mad at her, it was my fault. I missed the bus and I ran home, but she had peed and I’m almost done. I’m sorry. Please don’t get mad at her,” I begged.
    Her face never changed expression. “Why did you miss the bus?”
    “I was staying for help for math. We had a test and I missed a few questions.”
    “How many questions?” she asked.
    I didn’t want to tell her. Lucy was happily rolling around outside past the screen door and I wanted to play with her. I wanted to tell her everything was all right, but I knew it wasn’t. I wanted to tell Lucy and I needed to believe it myself. “Just a few. I misunderstood something,” I tried to explain.
    “What was the grade?” I paused and she caught my hesitation. “Lily, if you cannot handle the responsibility of a pet and still maintain your grades, I think it’s clear you are not old enough to have a dog.”
    “Mom, please. I got an 84, but it’s only one test and my grade is still an A and my teacher is going to work with me and I promise I won’t let it happen again.”
    She pushed past me, leaving me standing in the kitchen,