Sally Mac Darwin had the right clothes, the right books, the right house, the right brain and the right friends. The only thing wrong in Sally's perfect life was her family.
"Sally, you'd never like boys anyway. They're a bloody crashing bore!" Sally's best friend Lily Evans would say, and then run to be kissed by her boyfriend James Potter. It wasn't as if she was unloved, but her perfect mother and father, who had the perfect jobs, the perfect salaries and the perfect weekends at the perfect country club, on the perfect yacht and with their perfect friends, never seemed to have anytime for their perfect daughter. So Sally became a perfectionist. She did everything right, got the best marks in school and did things around the house without being asked. She hoped to win her parents' attention by doing everything perfectly. They took her excellent performance as a cry for independence. The more she did right, the more they left her alone. All Sally wanted was attention. Love. Affection. But Sally was unlovable; at least, that was what she told herself.
"Come on," she reasoned. "Who could love me?"
