Текст книги " The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend "

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

11

I had major sex hair. I stared into the big mirror and tried to flatten the mess of auburn waves while Wesley put his clothes on behind me. Definitely not a situation I’d ever imagined myself in.

“I’m perfectly fine with being used,” he said as he pulled on the tight black T-shirt. His hair was pretty incriminating, too. “But I would like to know for what I’m being used.”

“Distraction.”

“That much I gathered.” The mattress creaked when he flopped down onto his back and tucked his arms behind his head. “What am I supposed to be distracting you from? There’s a chance that, if I know, I could do my job more efficiently.”

“You’re doing just fine already.” I scraped my fingernails through my hair, but it was as good as it would get. Sighing, I turned away from the mirror and faced Wesley. To my surprise, he was watching me with actual interest. “Do you really care?”

“Sure.” He sat up and patted a spot beside him. “There’s more to this amazing body than awe-inspiring abs. I have a pair of ears, too, and they happen to work superbly.”

I rolled my eyes and sat next to him, pulling my feet up onto the bed. “Okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Not that it matters, but I found out that my ex-boyfriend is coming back to town for a week this morning. It’s so stupid, but I panicked. I mean, the last time we saw each other… it didn’t go very well. That’s why I dragged you into the closet at school.”

“What happened?”

“You were there. Don’t make me relive it.”

“I meant with your ex-boyfriend,” Wesley said. “I’m curious. What kind of misery could cause a hateful person like you to run into my muscular arms? Or is he the one who put that layer of ice around your heart?” His words sounded facetious, but his smile seemed sincere, not the lopsided one he wore when he thought he was being clever.

“We started dating during my freshman year,” I began reluctantly. “He was a senior, and I knew that my parents would never let me see him if they knew how old he was. So we kept the whole thing a secret from everyone. He never introduced me to his friends or took me places or talked to me at school, and I just assumed it was to protect us. Well, of course, I was totally wrong.”

My skin itched as Wesley’s eyes steadied on me. God, that annoyed me. He was probably looking at me with pity. Poor Duffy. My shoulders tensed, and I stared at my socks, refusing to see his reaction to my story. A story I’d never told anyone but Casey.

“So I saw him hanging out with this girl a few times at school,” I continued. “Every time I asked, he just said they were friends and not to worry. So I didn’t. I mean, he told me he loved me. I had every reason to believe him. Right?”

Wesley didn’t answer.

“Then she found out. This girl I’d been seeing him with tracked me down at school one day, and she told me to stop screwing her boyfriend. I thought it was a mistake, so I asked him about it…”

“Not a mistake,” Wesley guessed.

“Nope. Her name was Tiffany, and they’d been together since seventh grade. I was the other woman—or girl, technically.”

Slowly, I looked up and saw Wesley making a face. “What a dick,” he said.

“You can’t talk. You’re the biggest playboy there is.”

“True,” he admitted. “But I don’t make promises. He told you he loved you. He made a commitment. I’d never do that. A girl can believe what she wants to believe, but I don’t say anything I don’t mean. What he did is the mark of a true dick.”

“Anyway, he’s back in town this week with Tiffany… his fiancée.”

Wesley let out a low hiss. “Ah, that’s awkward.”

“You think?”

There was a long pause. Finally, Wesley asked, “So, who is he? Would I remember him?”

“I don’t know. You might. His name is Jake Gaither.”

“Jake Gaither.” Wesley’s face twisted in horror. “Jake Gaither? You mean that strange guy? The freak with the acne and hooked nose?” His eyes widened in shock. “How the hell did he get two girls? Why would anyone go out with him? Why would you go out with him? He was a beast.”

I felt my eyebrows contract. “Thanks,” I muttered. “Did you ever think that maybe that’s the best that the Duff could do?”

Wesley’s face fell. He looked away from me, examining our reflections in the mirror across the room. After a few moments of uneasy silence, he said, “You know, Bianca, you aren’t that unattractive. You do have some potential. Maybe if you hung out with different friends—”

“Just stop,” I said. “Look, I’ve already fucked you twice. You don’t have to flatter me. Besides, I love my friends way too much to trade them in for the sake of looking hotter.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, Casey has been my best friend since, like, forever, and she’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. And Jessica… well, she has no idea about me and her brother. We weren’t friends back then. In fact, I didn’t want to know her after Jake and I split, but Casey said it would be good for me, and she was right… as usual. Jessica can be a little ditsy, but she’s the sweetest, most innocent person I know. I could never give either of them up just to look good. That’d make me a real dumbass.”

“Then they’re lucky to have you.”

“I just said not to flatter—”

“I’m being honest.” Wesley frowned at the mirror. “I have only one friend—one real friend. Harrison is the only guy who will be seen with me, and that’s because we aren’t trying to attract the same audience, if you know what I mean.” A small smile spread across his lips when he turned to face me. “Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff.”

“Well, I guess I’m not most people.”

He looked at me seriously. “Does the word even bother you?” he asked.

“No.” I knew it was a lie the second the answer passed my lips. It did bother me, but I wouldn’t admit that. Especially not to him.

My entire body seemed to be conscious of his eyes on me again. Before he could say anything, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door.

“Listen,” I said, twisting the knob. “I have to go, but I was thinking we should do this again. Like a fling, maybe. Purely physical. No strings attached?”

“Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Wesley asked, stretching out on his back again with a smirk. “That sounds good to me, but if I’m so fantastic, you should spread the word to your friends. You say you love them, so you ought to let them experience the same mind-blowing pleasure… maybe at the same time. It’s only right.”

I scowled at him. “Just when I think you might have a soul, you say shit like that.” The door thudded against the wall when I flung it open. I marched down the stairs and yelled, “I’ll let myself out!”

“I’ll see you soon, Duffy.”

What an asshole.

My father was oblivious. I guess his suspicious dad mode was faulty or something because he hardly questioned me as I slipped out of the house to go see Wesley more and more that week. Any sane dad would have been tipped off when his daughter used the “working on a paper” excuse twice in a row, but four times in one week? Did he really think it took me that long to write a stupid essay? Wasn’t he worried I might be out doing exactly what I was doing?

Apparently not. Every time I walked out of the house, he just said, “Have a nice time, Bumblebee.”

But I think cluelessness must have been in the air. Even Casey, who’d been watching me like a hawk since Jake drove into town, hadn’t picked up on anything between me and Wesley. Nothing more than her usual jokes about my secret pining for him, that is. Of course, I was doing everything I could to hide the evidence, but more than once, I was sure she’d caught me.

Like Friday afternoon when we were hanging out in my bedroom and getting ready to go to the Nest. Really, Casey was the one getting ready. I mostly just sat on my bed and watched while she posed in front of my mirror. We’d done this a million times, but with Jessica still clinging to her brother every waking moment, the room felt strangely empty. Almost eerie.

Jessica was so different from both of us. I mean, Casey and I were opposites, but Jessica was from an entirely different planet. She was a constant ray of light. The glass half full. She kept us balanced with that big smile and naive innocence that always shocked us. While sometimes it felt like Casey and I had both seen too much of the world, Jessica was, in a lot of ways, still a child. Virginal. Always full of wonder. She was our sunshine, and Casey and I were kind of in the dark without her.

I was wondering how many more days Jake would be in town, when Casey turned to look at me, apparently deciding that she liked her purple skinny jeans after all. (I’m glad she did, because I thought they were hideous.) “You know, B, you’re dealing with this whole Jake thing a lot better than I expected,” she said.

“Thanks… I think.”

“Well, I kind of figured that when Jake rolled back into Hamilton with his fiancée, you’d be freaked. I was banking on tears, midnight phone calls, and some good old nervous breakdowns. Instead, you’re being, like, totally normal… or, you know, as normal as Bianca Piper ever gets.”

“I retract my thanks.”

“Seriously.” She crossed the room and sat down next to me. “Are you dealing with this okay? You’ve barely complained, which is disturbing because you complain about everything.”

“Do not,” I protested.

“Whatever you say.”

I rolled my eyes. “For your information, I’ve found a way to take my mind off it, but that’s kind of ruined when you keep talking about it, Casey.” I nudged her playfully with my elbow. “I’m starting to think that you want me to cry.”

“At least that would prove to me that you’re not bottling it up.”

“Casey,” I groaned.

“I’m not kidding, B,” she said. “This guy really fucked you up freshman year. You were a crying, blubbering, panicking mess after what he did, and I know it’s hard because we have to keep it from Jess, but you need to deal with it somehow. I don’t want to see you go through that shit again.”

“Casey, I’m fine,” I assured her. “I really have found a way to relieve the stress, okay?”

“What’s that?”

Oh, shit.

“What’s what?”

Casey frowned at me. “Duh. Your way of relieving the stress. What are you doing?”

“Um… just stuff.”

“Are you working out?” she asked. “Don’t be embarrassed if you are. My mom does cardio when she’s pissed off. She says it helps her channel the negative energy—whatever that means. So is that what you’re doing? Are you working out?”

“Um… you could say that.”

Damn it. My cheeks were definitely burning. I turned away from her, examining the hairs on the back of my arm.

“Cardio?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

But miraculously, she didn’t seem to notice that my face was on fire.

“Cool. You know, these pants are a size bigger than what I usually buy. Maybe we should work out together. It could be fun.”

“I don’t think so.” Before she could argue or see the scarlet color of my cheeks, I stood up and said, “I’ve gotta go brush my teeth again. Then I’ll be ready to get out of here. Okay?” And I ran out of the room.

When I returned a few minutes later, I was forced to lie yet again.

“Wanna stay over at my place tonight?” Casey asked as she fluffed her short hair in the mirror. “Mom’s going to a bachelorette party for a woman she works with, so it’ll just be us… and a few James McAvoy movies if you want. Jess will be sad she missed it, but—”

“I can’t tonight, Casey.”

“Why not?” She sounded hurt.

The truth was that I had plans to see Wesley around eleven that night, but obviously I couldn’t just be honest. But I couldn’t really lie either. I mean, my lies were always so fucking transparent. So I did what I was getting better and better at these days. I withheld.

“I have plans.”

“After we leave the Nest?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Casey turned from the mirror and stared at me for a long moment. Finally, she said, “You’ve been busy a lot lately, you know. You never want to do stuff with me much anymore.”

“I’m going out with you tonight, aren’t I?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess, but… I don’t know.” She turned away and examined her reflection one last time. “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

God, I hated being dishonest with Casey. Especially because she clearly knew something was going on, even if she hadn’t figured out what just yet. But I was going to do everything in my power to keep my thing with Wesley under wraps.

And, of course, Wesley acted totally casual about everything. In public, we treated each other with the same sarcastic indifference as always. I insulted him, gave him dirty looks, and cursed under my breath as he acted like a pig (not that there was any acting involved). No one would have guessed we were different behind closed doors. No one could tell that I was counting down the minutes until we’d be meeting on his front porch step.

No one but Joe.

“You like him,” the bartender teased as Wesley, after enduring a verbal tirade from yours truly, went off to dance with a giggling bimbo. “And I’m thinking he likes you, too. You two have something going on.”

“You’re insane,” I said, sipping my Cherry Coke.

“I’ve told you a million times, Bianca, and I’ll tell you again. You’re a bad liar.”

“I wouldn’t touch that douche bag with a ten-foot pole!” Did my voice convey enough disgust? “Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot, Joe? He’s arrogant, and he sleeps with everything he can get his filthy hands on. Most of the time, I just want to claw his creepy eyes out. How could I like him? He’s a jackass.”

“And girls love jackasses. That’s why I can’t get a date. I’m too damn nice.”

“Or too hairy,” I offered. I took the last drink of my Cherry Coke and pushed my glass across the bar to him. “Shave that Moses beard and you might have better luck. Women don’t want to kiss carpet, you know.”

“You’re trying to get out of talking about it,” Joe pointed out. “That just proves there’s something going on with you and Mr. Jackass.”

“Shut up. Just shut up, Joe.”

“So I’m right?”

“No,” I said. “You’re just really, really annoying me.”

Okay, I definitely had to find some way of avoiding the Nest for a few weeks… or, better yet, forever.

12

“Your shot, Duffy.” Wesley leaned on his pool stick, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“You haven’t won yet,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“But I’m about to.”

I ignored him, focusing my attention on one of the two striped balls still remaining on the table. At that point, I really wished Wesley and I had just stuck to our pattern—walk straight up to his bedroom, bypassing everything else entirely. But that night on the way up the stairs, Wesley had mentioned having a pool table—and proceeded to brag that he was a wizard with a pool stick. For some reason, it sparked a competitive nerve in me. I just couldn’t wait to wipe the floor with him and knock that cocky little grin right off his face.

Only, I was starting to regret my decision to challenge him to this game because, as it turned out, his boasts hadn’t been too far from the truth. I wasn’t bad at pool either, but I was about to get my ass kicked. And there was nothing I could do to wiggle my way out of it.

“Steady there,” he whispered, his lips brushing past my ear as he eased up behind me. His hands settled on my hips, fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. “Focus, Duffy. Are you focusing?”

He was trying to distract me. And shit, it was working.

I jerked away from him, trying to thrust the back of my pool stick into his gut. But of course he dodged, and I succeeded only in knocking the cue ball in the opposite direction of what I’d intended, sending it right into one of the corner pockets.

“Scratch,” Wesley announced.

“Damn it!” I whirled around to face him. “That shouldn’t count!”

“But it does.” He took the white ball out of the hole and placed it carefully at the end of the table. “All’s fair in love and pool.”

“War,” I corrected.

“Same thing.” He eased the stick back, staring straight ahead, before shooting it forward again. Half a second later, the eight ball sailed into a pocket. The winning shot.

“Asshole,” I hissed.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said, leaning his stick against the wall. “What did you really expect? I’m obviously amazing at everything.” He grinned. “But, hey, you can’t hold it against me, right? We can’t help the way God makes us.”

“You’re an arrogant cheater.” I tossed my pool stick aside, letting it clatter to the floor a few feet away. “Sore winners are way worse than sore losers, you know. And you only won because you kept messing me up! You couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself long enough for me to make a decent shot! That’s just low. And for another thing—”

Without warning, Wesley lifted me up onto the pool table. His hands moved to my shoulders, and a second later, I was flat on my back, staring up at him as he smirked. He shifted so that he was on the table too, leaning over me with his face only inches from mine.

“On the pool table?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Seriously?”

“I can’t resist,” he said. “You know, you’re pretty sexy when you’re pissed at me, Duffy.”

First, I was struck by the irony of that statement. I mean, he used sexy and Duffy—implying I was fat and ugly—in the same sentence. The contrast was almost laughable. Almost.

The thing that really got me, though, was that no one, not even Jake Gaither, had ever called me sexy. Wesley was the first. And the truth was, being with him made me feel attractive. The way he touched me. The way he kissed me. I could tell his body wanted me. Okay, okay. So it was Wesley. His body wanted everyone. But still. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in… well, I’d never experienced it. It was exciting and empowering.

But none of that could erase the stab of pain the last word in his statement gave me. Wesley might have been the first to call me sexy, but he was also the first to call me the Duff. That word had been tugging at me, taunting me, for weeks now. And it was his fault.

So how could he see me as both sexy and Duffy at the same time?

Better question: why did I care?

Before I could manufacture any decent answers, he started kissing me, his fingers already locating the buttons and zippers of my clothes. We became a tangle of lips and hands and knees, and the issue was completely pushed out of my head.

For the moment, at least.

“Go Panthers!” Casey yelled as she and a few other members of the Skinny Squad did cartwheels along the sidelines.

Beside me, Jessica was waving a two-dollar blue-and-orange pom-pom, her face glowing with excitement. Jake and Tiffany were having dinner with Tiffany’s parents that night, which meant I got to spend a couple of hours with her… even if that couple of hours was at a stupid sporting event.

The truth was, I hated pretty much anything requiring school spirit, because, obviously, I had none. I hated Hamilton High. I hated the horribly bright school colors, the incredibly generic mascot, and at least ninety percent of the student body. That’s why I couldn’t wait to leave for college.

“You hate everything,” Casey had said to me early that day when I’d explained to her why I had no desire to attend the basketball game.

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is. You hate everything. But I love you. And Jess. Which is why I am going to ask you, as your best friend, to bring her to the game.”

When Jessica had told me she wanted to hang out that night, my first instinct was to just go to my place and watch movies. But Casey’s obligations to cheer at the game had interfered. That might not have been a big deal—Jessica and I could have watched movies on our own—but Casey had to make it so complicated. She wanted to see Jessica, too. And she wanted us to see her cheer. Even if it went against everything I stood for.

“Come on, B,” she said, sounding irritated. “It’s just one game.”

She was irritated a lot these days. Especially at me. And I really wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.

So that’s how I’d been wangled into this. That’s how I’d wound up sitting on an uncomfortable bleacher, bored out of my mind, as the cheers and shouts of the people around me brought on a fucking migraine. Absolutely wonderful.

I’d just decided to drive to Wesley’s after the game, when Jessica elbowed me in the side. For a second I assumed it was an accident, like she’d gotten a little too excited waving her pom-pom around, but then I felt her tug on my wrist. “Bianca.”

“Huh?” I turned my head to face her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was focused on a group of people a few bleachers down.

Three tall, pretty girls—juniors, I thought—sat in a row, leaning back on their palms, their legs crossed. Three perfect ponytails. Three pairs of hip-hugger jeans. And then, up the aisle, walked the fourth. She was smaller and paler with short black hair. Clearly a freshman. She was carrying several bottles of water and a few hot dogs in her arms, like she’d just come back from the concession stand.

I watched as the smiling freshman passed out the bottles and food. Watched as each of the juniors took theirs from her. Watched as they gave her less than appreciative looks. She took her seat at the end of their little row, and none of the older girls seemed to talk to her, only to one another. I watched as she tried to hop into their conversations, her small mouth opening and closing again as each of the juniors interrupted her, ignoring her entirely. Until, after a moment, one faced her, spoke quickly, and looked back to her friends. The freshman stood up again and walked, still smiling, down the steps and back toward the concession stand. Back to do their bidding.

When I faced Jessica again, her eyes were dark and… sad. Or maybe angry. It was hard to tell with her because she didn’t show either of those emotions very often.

Either way I understood.

Jessica had been like that freshman once. That’s how Casey and I had found her. Two senior girls Casey cheered with—complete cheerleading stereotypes: bitchy, blond, and bimbo-like—had been bragging about some dopey sophomore they kept as a “pet.” And, more than once, Casey had watched them talk down to her.

“We’ve got to do something about it, B,” she’d said insistently. “We can’t just let them treat her that way.”

Casey thought she had to save everyone. Just like she’d saved me on the playground all those years ago. I was used to this. Only this time, she wanted my help. Normally I would have agreed just because it was Casey asking. But Jessica Gaither was a girl I had no desire to even meet, let alone save.

It wasn’t that I was heartless. I just didn’t want to know Jake Gaither’s sister. Not after what he’d done to me. Not after the drama I’d been through the year before.

And I’d managed to stand my ground quite firmly… until that day in the cafeteria.

“God, Jessica, are you fucking brain-dead or something?”

Casey and I both turned around in our seats to see one of the skinny cheerleaders glaring down at Jessica, who was at least a head shorter than she was. Or maybe that was just the way Jessica slumped, cowering.

“I asked you to do one simple thing,” the cheerleader spat, jabbing a finger down at the plate Jessica was holding. “One stupidly simple thing. No fucking dressing on my salad. How hard is that?”

“That’s how the salad came, Mia,” Jessica mumbled, her cheeks bright pink. “I didn’t—”

“You’re a moron.” The cheerleader turned around and stormed away, ponytail swinging behind her.

Jessica just stood there, looking down at the plate of salad with big, sad eyes. She seemed so small then. So weak and mousy. At that moment, I didn’t think of her as beautiful. Or even all that cute. Just fragile and skittish. Like a mouse.

“Hurry up, Jessica,” one of the other cheerleaders called from their table, sounding annoyed. “We’re not saving your seat forever. Jesus.”

I could feel Casey looking at me, and I knew what she wanted. And, staring at Jessica, I couldn’t exactly pretend I didn’t understand why. If anyone needed a little bit of Casey Saves the Day, it was this girl. Plus, she didn’t look anything like her brother. That made my decision a little easier.

I sighed and said, loudly, “Hey, Jessica.”

She jumped and turned to look at me, and the fearful expression on her face almost broke my heart.

“Come sit with us.” It wasn’t a question. Not even an offer. It was pretty much an order. I didn’t want to give her a choice. Even though, if she was sane, she totally would have chosen us.

Then Jessica was hurrying toward us, and the senior cheerleaders were pissed, and Casey was beaming at me. And that was that. History.

Though it didn’t seem so much like the past just then, as I watched the little freshman girl hurry off toward the concession stand. I could see the way her jeans hung on her wrong—she didn’t quite have the curves for low-rise pants—and that awkward slouch in her shoulders that made her look strangely unbalanced. Those little things that separated her from her so-called friends. A walking echo of the girl Jessica had been. So long ago. Only now I had a new word for it. For that girl.

Duff.

There was no way around it. That freshman was definitely the Duff in comparison to the pretty bitches bossing her around. It wasn’t that she was so unattractive—and she definitely wasn’t fat—but out of the four of them, she was the last one anyone would notice. And I couldn’t help wondering if that was the point. If they used her as more than just the errand runner. Was she there also to make them look better?

I looked at Jessica again, remembering how small and weak she’d seemed that day. Not cute. Not pretty. Just kind of pathetic. The Duff. Now she was beautiful. Voluptuous and adorable and… well, sexy. Any guy—except Harrison, unfortunately—would want her. But the strange thing was, she didn’t look all that different. Not on the surface, at least. She’d been curvy and blond even then. So what had changed?

How could one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever met have been the Duff? How did that logic even work? It was like Wesley calling me sexy and Duffy at the same time. It just didn’t make sense.

Was it possible that you didn’t have to be fat or ugly to be the Duff? I mean, Wesley had said, that night at the Nest, that Duff was a comparison. Did that mean even somewhat attractive girls could be Duffs?

“Should we go help her?”

I was startled for a second, and a little confused. I realized Jessica was watching the freshman make her way down the sideline.

I had a horrible thought then. One that officially made me the biggest bitch ever. I seriously considered going and claiming that freshman as our own, so that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be the Duff anymore.

I could hear Wesley’s voice in my head. “Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff.” I’d said I wasn’t most people, but was I? Was I just like those cheerleaders—now long since graduated—who’d mistreated Jessica or like these three perfect ponytailed juniors on the bleachers?

Before I could make a decision, though, to help the freshman—be it for the right reasons or the wrong—the buzzer sounded over our heads. Around us, the crowd stood, all cheering and whooping, blocking my view of the small, dark-haired figure. She was gone, and so was my opportunity to save her or use her or whatever I might have done.

The game was over.

The Panthers had won.

And I was still the Duff.