Текст книги " The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend "

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

5

When I was in kindergarten, I had a traumatic monkey bars experience. I’d been halfway across, my legs swinging beneath me, when my hands got sweaty and made me slip. I fell for what seemed like a mile before landing on the ground in a heap. All the other five-year-olds laughed at me and my scraped, bloody knee. All of them but one.

Casey Blithe walked out of the gawking group of grade-schoolers and came to stand in front of me. Even back then, I knew she was beautiful. Blond locks, hazel eyes, rosy cheeks… the epitome of five-year-old perfection. She could have been in pageants.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I said through thick, hot tears. I wasn’t sure whether I was crying because of the pain in my knee or because of the way all my classmates were laughing at me.

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” She reached out a hand and pulled me up. Then she turned and yelled at the kids who were making fun of me.

After that, she basically appointed herself my personal caretaker, never letting me out of her sight, determined to keep me out of trouble. From that moment on, we were best friends.

Of course, that was before popularity and Duffs got involved. She wound up being tall (almost six one—the girl was an Amazon!) and thin and gorgeous. I wound up looking like… well, the opposite. To see us separately, no one would ever think we were close. No one would guess the pretty Homecoming Queen was with the chubby mousy-haired girl in the corner.

But we were best friends. She’d been there for me through everything. She’d even stuck by me freshman year, after I’d had my heart broken for the first—and if I had anything to do with it, only—time. She never let me isolate myself or drown in my own misery. Despite the fact that she could easily find prettier, cooler, more popular friends, she stayed with me.

So when she asked me to drive her home after cheerleading practice on Wednesday afternoon, I agreed. I mean, after all she’d done for me over the past twelve years, the least I could do was give her a lift every now and then.

I waited in the cafeteria, staring at the psychedelic blue-and-orange walls (the guy who picked our school colors must have been on some serious drugs), attempting to finish my calculus homework. I was in the middle of asking myself the age-old question—where will I use this in real life?—when I felt a hand on my shoulder. That skin-crawly thing happened, and I knew exactly who was behind me.

Great. Just fucking great.

I jerked out from under Wesley’s hand and spun around to face him, gripping my pencil like a dart and aiming it right at his Adam’s apple.

He didn’t even flinch. His gray eyes examined the pencil with feigned curiosity and he said, “Interesting. Is this how you greet all the boys you like?”

“I don’t like you.”

“Does that mean you love me, then?”

I hated the smooth, confident way he spoke. A lot of girls thought it was sexy, but it was really just stalker-ish. Everything about him screamed date rape! to me. Ugh.

“It means that I hate you,” I snapped. “And if you don’t stay the fuck away from me, I’ll report you for sexual harassment.”

“Might be a hard case,” Wesley mused. He swiped the pencil from me and began twirling it between his fingers. “Especially considering you’re the one who kissed me. Technically, I could report you for harassment.”

I gritted my teeth, still hating to even think about it, not even bothering to remind him that he’d been more than willing to participate. “Give me back my pencil,” I muttered.

“I don’t know,” he said. “With you, this could be classified as a dangerous weapon… along with glasses of cherry soda. Interesting choice, by the way. I’d always pegged you for more of a Sprite girl. You know… plain.”

I just glared at him, hoping he would spontaneously combust before I grabbed my textbooks and notepads off the table. He dodged my attempt to stomp on his foot and stared after me as I marched down the hallway. I was halfway to the gym, where Casey, the cheerleading captain, should have been wrapping up practice, when he caught up with me.

“Oh, come on, Duffy. That was just a joke. Lighten up.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Your sense of humor needs some work, then,” Wesley suggested. “Most girls find my jokes charming.”

“Those girls must have IQs low enough to trip over.”

He laughed.

Apparently, I was the funny one.

“Hey, you never told me why you were upset the other night,” he said. “You were too busy shoving your tongue down my throat. So what was the problem?”

“None of your—” I began, but I stopped suddenly. “Hey! I didn’t… there was no tongue!” A shiver of rage ran through me as I noticed his mischievous smile. “You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here. God, why are you stalking me? I thought Wesley Rush didn’t chase girls. I thought they chased him, right?”

“You’re right. Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls, and I’m not chasing you,” he said. “I’m here waiting for my sister. She’s making up a test for Mr. Rollins. I just saw you in the cafeteria and thought—”

“What? Thought you’d torture me a little more?” I clenched my fists. “Leave me the hell alone. You’ve already made me miserable.”

“How have I done that?” he asked, sounding a little surprised.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that Duff’ was plaguing me because of him. He’d enjoy it too much.

Instead, I took off running to the gym doors as fast as I could. This time he didn’t follow me—thank God. I hurried into the blue-and-orange gymnasium (Oh God. Bright colors… I could feel a headache coming already… ) and took a seat on the closest bleacher.

“Great practice, girls!” Casey cried from the other side of the gym. “Okay, the next basketball game is Friday. I want you all to practice the dance, and Vikki, work on those high kicks. All right?”

The Skinny Squad murmured in general agreement.

“Awesome,” said Casey. “See you later, guys. Go Panthers!”

“Go Panthers!” the other cheerleaders echoed as they separated. Most of the girls hurried to the locker room, but a few headed for the doors, chatting excitedly with their friends.

Casey skipped over to me. “Hey, B,” she said. “Sorry we went a little overtime. Do you mind if I change before we get out of here? I feel a little stinky.”

“I don’t care,” I murmured.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly suspicious.

“Nothing, Casey. Go change.”

“Bianca, I can tell—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t about to get into another Wesley discussion with her. She’d probably wind up defending him like last time. “I’m fine, okay?” I said, softening my voice. “Long day. Headache.”

Casey still looked skeptical when she walked, with considerably less pep, to the locker room.

Fantastic. I felt like a total bitch. She’d only wanted to make sure I was okay, and I shut her out. I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Wesley out on her, even if she did think he was a fucking prince.

But when she came out of the locker room in her hoodie and jeans, her usual cheer had returned. She swung her purse over her shoulder and came to where I was sitting, a smile plastered across her spotless, smooth face. “Sometimes, I can’t believe the shit I hear in the locker room,” she said. “You ready to go, B?”

“Sure.” I picked up my books and started toward the gym doors, hoping that Wesley wasn’t still lurking in the hallway.

Casey must have noticed my anxiety. I could see the tense, worried look on her face, but she didn’t bring it up again. Instead, she said, “So, okay, Vikki is totally gonna get a reputation as a whore.”

“She already has one.”

“Well, yeah,” Casey admitted, “but it’s about to get worse. She’s dating that junior football player—you know, what’s-his-name—but she told some guy from Oak Hill High that she’d take him to Basketball Homecoming. I don’t know why she does this stuff to herself. You, Jess, and me will have a front-row seat for the drama when it all comes out that night. BTW, what are you wearing to the dance?”

“Nothing.”

“Hot, but I doubt they’ll let you in naked, B.” We were walking through the maze of tables in the cafeteria on our way to the parking lot.

“No. I mean, Jessica and I aren’t going to Homecoming,” I said.

“Of course you are,” Casey protested.

I shook my head. “Jessica is grounded. I promised her I’d come over and we’d watch girly movies.”

Casey looked stunned as we pushed through the blue door and entered the freezing student parking lot. “What? But Jess loves Basketball Homecoming. It’s her favorite after prom and Football Homecoming.”

I smiled a little, in spite of myself. “And Sadie Hawkins.”

“Why didn’t I know about this? Homecoming is getting close. Why didn’t you all tell me?”

I shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. And I guess Jessica is still moping. She might not want to talk about not being able to go.”

“But… but who will I go to the dance with now?”

“Um, a boy,” I suggested. “Casey, it’s not as if it’ll be hard for you to get a date.” I fished the car keys out of my back pocket and unlocked the doors of my Saturn.

“Right, who the hell wants to go with Sasquatch?”

“You are not Sasquatch.”

“Besides,” she said, ignoring me, “it’s way better to go with you guys.” She climbed into the passenger’s seat and wrapped herself in the blanket Jessica had used a few nights earlier. “Damn it, B. You really need to get that fucking heater fixed.”

“You really need to get your own car.”

She changed the subject. “Okay, so back to the dance. If you two aren’t going… do you guys care if I crash your movie fest? It could be a Girls’ Night In. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Despite my crappy mood, I smiled. Casey was right. We hadn’t had a movie night together in a long time, and it would be nice to hang out without the drama of boys or loud techno music. For once, I might actually have fun on a Friday night. So I reached for the volume on my stereo and said, “A week from Friday, it’s a date.”

6

When the Friday of our Girls’ Night In finally rolled around, I was more than ready for a nice, relaxing evening with my best friends—and the wonderfully Scottish James McAvoy, of course. I’d shoved the copy of Becoming Jane that Jessica had given me for Christmas, a pair of barely used pajamas (yeah, I sleep naked at home—so what?), and my toothbrush into my backpack. Casey was bringing the popcorn, and Jessica promised us big bowls of chocolate swirl ice cream.

As if my ass wasn’t big enough.

But naturally, the day couldn’t be all good. Mrs. Perkins, my English teacher, made sure of that during fourth block.

“So, that’s The Scarlet Letter,” she said, closing her book. “Did you enjoy it, class?”

There was a low grumble in the negative, but Mrs. Perkins didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, because Hawthorne’s work is so extraordinary and applicable to contemporary society, I want each of you to write a report pertaining to the novel.” She ignored the loud sighs. “The report can be about any part of the book—a character, a scene, a theme—but I want it to be very well thought out. I will also be allowing you to work in pairs”—the class buzzed with excitement—“which I will assign.” The excitement vanished.

I knew I was in trouble when Mrs. Perkins pulled out her roll sheet. That meant she would be assigning partners based on alphabetical order, and since there were no kids whose last names started with Q in that class, my partner was bound to be—

“Bianca Piper will work with Wesley Rush.”

Shit.

I’d managed to steer clear of Wesley for a week and a half—since the day he’d harassed me after school—but Mrs. Perkins had to go and screw that up.

She rattled off the last few names on her list before saying, “I expect the reports to be no fewer than five pages long—and that’s twelve-point font, double-spaced, Vikki. Don’t pull that stunt again.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Now, I want partners to work together. Both must contribute to the report. And be creative, people! Have fun!”

“Not likely,” I muttered to Jessica, who sat at the desk next to mine.

“Oh, I think you’re lucky, Bianca,” she said. “I’d be thrilled if Wesley was my partner. But my heart belongs to Harrison. It is so unfair that Casey gets to work with him.” She glanced toward Casey’s assigned seat, all the way across the classroom. “She’ll probably get to see his house and bedroom and everything. Do you think she’ll say some good things about me if I ask? Maybe she’ll be, like, my wing girl.”

I didn’t bother answering.

“The reports are due in exactly one week!” Mrs. Perkins announced over the chatter. “So, please work on them this weekend.”

The bell rang and the whole class stood up at the same time. Tiny Mrs. Perkins scurried out of the way to avoid being trampled by the stampede toward the door. Jessica and I joined the crowd, and Casey caught up to us just as we stepped into the hall.

“This is bullshit,” she hissed. “An essay over nothing? I don’t want to pick a topic. That’s her freaking job! What is the point of this damn assignment if she can’t even give us something to write about? It’s ridiculous.”

“But you get to work with Harrison, and—”

“Please, Jess, don’t start with that crap.” Casey rolled her eyes. “He. Is. Gay. It isn’t gonna happen, okay?”

“You never know! So you won’t play wing girl for me?”

“I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria,” I said, turning in the direction of my locker. “I need to grab a few things first.”

“Cool.” Casey grabbed Jessica by the wrist and pulled her toward the other hallway. “We’ll meet you by the snack machines, ’kay, B? Come on, Jess.” And they left me alone in the packed corridor. Okay, not really packed. Hamilton High had only around four hundred students or something, but considering the low numbers, the hallways seemed pretty crowded that afternoon. Or maybe I was just stressed out and getting claustrophobic. Anyway, my friends ran away, and I was left among the beasts.

I pushed my way past the loud jocks and smooching couples—PDAs are so disgusting—and headed for the science hallway. It took only a few minutes to get to my locker, which, like the rest of the fugly school, was painted orange and blue. I spun my combination and yanked open the door. Behind me, a group of cheerleaders ran through shouting, “Go Panthers! Panthers! Panthers!”

I’d just grabbed my coat and backpack and was about to close the door when he showed up. Honestly, I’d expected him sooner.

“Looks like we’re partners, Duffy.”

I kicked the locker shut with a little too much force. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Wesley grinned, running his fingers through his dark curls as he leaned against the locker next to mine. “So, your place or mine?”

“What?”

“To do the assignment this weekend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be getting any ideas, Duffy. I’m not chasing you. I’m just being a good student. Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls. They—”

“Chase you. Yeah, I know.” I pulled my coat on over my T-shirt. “If we have to do this, I was thinking we’d—”

“Wesley!” A skinny brunette that I didn’t recognize (she looked like a freshman) threw herself at him right in front of me. She stared up at Wesley with big sappy eyes. “Will you dance with me at Homecoming tonight?”

“Of course, Meghan,” he said, running his hand down her back. He was tall enough to look down her shirt without any problem. Perverted bastard. “I’ll save a dance just for you, okay?”

“Really?”

“Would I lie?”

“Oh, thanks, Wesley!” He bent down, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before scampering off, not looking at me once.

Wesley turned his attention back to me. “You were saying?”

Through gritted teeth, I growled, “I was thinking that we’d meet at my place.”

“What’s wrong with my house?” he asked. “Are you afraid it’s haunted, Duffy?”

“Of course not. I’d just prefer to work at my house. God knows what kind of diseases I could get just by stepping foot in your bedroom.” I shook my head. “So, my house, okay? Tomorrow afternoon at, like, three. Call before you show up.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. If he had a problem with it, I’d write the paper myself. So, purposely forgetting to say good-bye, I walked off, darting around the groups of gossiping girls and hurrying toward the cafeteria.

I found Casey and Jessica waiting for me by the old vending machines.

“I don’t get it, Case,” Jessica was saying. She slipped a dollar into the only working machine and waited for her Sunkist to drop into the slot at the bottom. “Don’t you have to stay and cheer at the game?”

“Nope. I told the girls that I couldn’t make it tonight, so one of our alternates, this cute little freshman, is taking my place. She’s been wanting to cheer all year, and she’s got skills, but there just hasn’t been a place for her until now. They’ll be fine without me.”

I was standing right next to them before Jessica spotted me. “There’s Bianca! Let’s get the heck out of here! Woohoo! Girls’ Night In!”

Casey rolled her eyes.

Jessica pushed open the blue door that led to the parking lot, smiling from ear to ear, and said, “You guys are the best. Like, really the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Cry into your pillow every single night,” Casey said.

“Think your other friends were ‘really the best,’ ” I offered, returning her smile. There was no fucking way I was going to let Wesley Rush drag me down. No way! This was Girls’ Night In, and it wasn’t going to be screwed up by an asshole like him. “You didn’t forget that ice cream promise, did you, Jessica?”

“I remember. Chocolate swirl.”

We crossed the parking lot and climbed into my car. Instantly, Jessica wrapped herself in the old blanket, and Casey, shivering visibly, glowered at her with envy as she pulled on her seat belt. With a quick stomp on the gas, we zoomed out of the student lot and hit the highway, speeding away from Hamilton High like prisoners running from their cells… which was sort of what we were.

“I can’t believe you weren’t nominated for Homecoming Queen this time, Casey,” Jessica said from the backseat. “I was sure you would be.”

“Nah. I got voted queen at Football Homecoming. There’s a rule about people winning more than once in the same year. I wasn’t eligible to be nominated this time. It’s gonna be Vikki or Angela, I’m sure.”

“Do you think they’ll fight if one of them wins?” Jessica sounded worried.

“Doubt it,” Casey said. “Angela couldn’t care less about that kind of shit. Vikki is the competitive one…. I really was looking forward to seeing the drama tonight, though. Did I tell you that Vikki is thinking of meeting up with Wesley Rush, too?”

“No!” Jessica and I cried in unison.

“Yep,” Casey said, nodding. “I guess she’s really trying to make her boyfriend jealous or something. She’s dating a junior, taking an OHH kid to our dance, and telling everyone she has the hots for Wesley. She claims they fooled around after a party recently—I guess her boyfriend doesn’t know about that yet—and she’s thinking of doing it again. She said it was amazing.”

“He slept with her?” Jessica gasped.

“He sleeps with everyone,” I said, turning the car onto 5th Street. “If it has a vagina, he’ll screw it.”

“Ew! Bianca!” Jessica yelped. “Don’t say the… the V word.”

“Vagina, vagina, vagina,” Casey said flatly. “Get over it, Jess. You have one. You can call it what it is.”

Jessica’s cheeks were the color of tomatoes. “There’s no reason to talk about it. It’s crude and… personal.”

Casey ignored her and said to me, “He might be a player, but he’s pretty damn sexy. Even you have to admit that, B. I bet he’s awesome in bed. I mean, you made out with him. Was he amazing? Can you really blame Vikki for wanting to hook up with him?”

“You made out with Wesley?” Jessica croaked, choking on her own excitement. “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shot a glare at Casey.

“She’s embarrassed,” Casey explained, fluffing the back of her short pixie cut. “Which is dumb because I bet she had a blast kissing him.”

“I did not have a blast,” I said.

“Was he a good kisser?” Jessica asked. “Tell me, tell me, tell me! I really want to know.”

“Yes, if you must know, he was. But that doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

“But,” Casey interjected, “with your experience, answer my last question. Can you really blame Vikki for wanting to hook up with him?”

“I don’t have to.” I switched on my turn signal. “She’ll blame herself when she gets a venereal disease… or when her boyfriend finds out about it. Whichever comes first.”

“And this is exactly why I wanted to go to the dance,” Casey sighed. “We could have witnessed it all firsthand… like Hamilton’s own episode of Gossip Girl. Vikki’s boyfriend would be getting pissed and plotting revenge as his unfaithful girlfriend screws the hottest guy in school, and Bianca, hiding her secret love for Wesley, would mope and pretend to hate him while silently pining for his super-sexy-hot kiss again.”

My jaw dropped open. “I would not be pining for anything of the sort!”

Jessica snorted with laughter from the backseat, pulling her ponytail in front of her mouth to hide a grin when I scowled at her in the rearview.

“Oh well,” Casey sighed. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about the drama on Monday.”

“Or tomorrow if the story is good enough,” Jessica said. “Angela and Jeanine never keep gossip to themselves. If it gets crazy, you know they’ll call us and tell us what we missed. I’m sure that they will.” She smiled. “I hope they give lots of details. I can’t believe I’m missing my last Homecoming.”

“At least you’re not missing it alone, Jess.”

A few seconds after pulling onto Holbrooke Lane, I turned into the Gaithers’ driveway. Yanking the keys from the ignition, I said, “Let the Girls’ Night In officially begin.”

“Woohoo!” Jessica jumped out of the backseat and practically danced up to her front porch. She pushed open the door, and Casey and I followed her inside, shaking our heads with amusement.

I slid off my jacket and hung it on the hook just inside the door. Jessica lived in a coatrack house—clean, neat, shoes off at the front door… you know the type. Her parents were super-picky about order. Casey did the same and said, “I wish my mom could keep a house this nice. Or she could at least hire a maid or whatever. Our place looks like shit.”

Mine didn’t look that great either. My mom had never been much of a clean freak, and Dad only believed in cleaning once a year, during the spring. Other than laundry, dishes, and the occasional dust-and-vacuum job (usually all my doing), not much housework got done in the Piper home.

“What time will your parents get here, Jessica?” I asked.

“Mom will be home at five-thirty, and Dad should get here a little after six.” She was waiting for us at the foot of the stairs, ready to run up to her bedroom as soon as we joined her. “Dad started seeing a new patient today, though, so he might be a little late.”

Mr. Gaither was a therapist. More than once, Casey had threatened to ask him if he’d take me as a patient for free. See if he’d help work out my “issues.” Not that I had issues. But Casey said my cynicism was the result of some kind of internal struggle. I said it was just me being intelligent. And Jessica… well, Jessica didn’t say anything. Even though it was only ever discussed teasingly, she always got a little awkward when the subject came up. With all the psychobabble she heard from her dad, she probably did think my constant negativity was part of an internal struggle.

Jessica hated negativity. Hated it so much, in fact, that she wouldn’t even say she hated it. That would have been too negative.

“Hurry, hurry! Are you guys ready or what?”

“Let’s get this party started!” Casey whooped, running past Jessica and speeding up the stairs.

Jessica giggled like a maniac as she made an effort to catch up with Casey, but I lagged behind, following them up the stairs at a regular walking pace. Once I reached the landing, I could hear my friends laughing and talking in the bedroom at the end of the hall, but I didn’t follow their voices. Something else caught my attention first.

The door to the first bedroom, the one on the left, was wide open. My brain told me to walk right past, but my feet weren’t listening. I stood in the open doorway, willing my eyes to look away. My body just didn’t want to cooperate.

Perfectly made bed with the battered, navy blue comforter. Superhero posters covering every inch of wall. Black light over the headboard. The room was almost exactly the way I’d remembered it, only there were no dirty clothes on the floor. The open closet looked empty, and the Spider-Man calendar, which used to hang over the computer desk, had been taken down. But the room still seemed warm, as if he were still there. As if I were still fourteen.

“Jake, I don’t understand. Who was that girl?”

“No one. Don’t worry about it. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“But…”

“Shh…. It’s not a big deal.”

“I love you, Jake. Don’t lie to me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. Do you really think I’d hurt you, Bi—”

“Bianca! Where the hell did you go?”

Casey’s voice made me jump. Quickly, I stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door, knowing that I couldn’t walk past it every time I needed to pee that night. “Coming!” I managed to keep my voice normal. “God! Be patient for once in your life.”

Then, with a forced smile, I went to watch a movie with my friends.