The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend

  “Hey. It’s Bianca. Um, are you still busy?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I gawked at the giant flat-screen, feeling my face get hot. Again? Seriously? That was the tenth time in a row Wesley had beaten me since I’d arrived an hour earlier. I’d half expected to find some leggy blonde sneaking out of his bedroom when I walked up the steps, but the scene I found was quite different. Wesley was playing Soulcalibur IV. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I’d challenged him.

  My God, I had to find something I could beat him at!

  And you know, something about beating the shit out of an animated character really made me feel better. Before I knew it, I wasn’t even worried about Mom or Dad. Things would be okay. They had to be. I just had to be patient and let things happen. And in the meantime, I had to kick Wesley’s ass… or try, at least.

  “I told you, I’m awesome at everything,” he teased, putting the PS3 controller on the floor between us. “That includes video games.”

  I watched as the character Wesley had been operating moved across the screen, doing some sort of odd victory dance. “Not fair,” I muttered. “Your sword was bigger than mine.”

  “My sword is bigger than everyone’s.”

  I lobbed my controller at his head, but of course he ducked and made me miss. Damn it. “Perv.”

  “Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You walked right into that one, Duffy.”

  I scowled at him for a moment, but I could feel the aggravation slipping away. Finally, I just shook my head… and smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I did leave that one wide open. But you know, boys that talk big never are.”

  Wesley frowned. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve proved it to you plenty of times.” He smirked, then leaned against me, letting his lips brush against my ear. “But I can prove it again if you want me to… and you know you want me to.”

  “I… I don’t think that’s necessary,” I managed. His lips were moving down my neck, sending an electric current up my spine.

  “Oh,” he growled playfully. “I do.”

  I laughed as he shoved me to the floor, one of his hands perfectly catching the space above my left hip where I was most ticklish. He’d discovered that spot a couple of weeks ago, and I was furious with myself for letting him use it against me. Now he could make me squirm and laugh uncontrollably whenever he wanted, and I could tell that he totally got off on it. Jerk.

  His fingers probed the sensitive spot over my hip as his mouth moved from my collarbone to my ear. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Not fair. So not fair. I made a halfhearted attempt to kick him away, but he trapped my leg between his and proceeded to tickle me harder.

  Just when I thought I might pass out from lack of oxygen, I felt something vibrate in my back pocket. “Stop, stop!” I cried, shoving Wesley away. He rolled off me, and I stumbled to my feet, trying to catch my breath, and took my phone out of my pocket. I expected it to be Mom, letting me know how things had gone with Dad—putting any worries I might still have at ease—but when I glanced at the ID, my stomach lurched.

  “Oh, shit. Casey.” I looked down at Wesley, still lying on the floor, his hands tucked behind his head. His T-shirt had ridden up a little, and I could just make out his hip bones, peeking out beneath the green fabric. “Don’t say anything,” I told him. “She cannot know I’m here.” I flipped open the phone then and said, as smoothly as I could, “Hello?”

  “Hey.” She sounded pissed. “What the hell happened to you tonight? Jess said the three of us were meeting for Valentine’s Day, but you never showed.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Something came up.”

  “Bianca, you’ve been saying that a lot lately. Something is always coming up or you have plans or…”

  Suddenly, I felt Wesley’s breath hit the back of my neck. He’d gotten up from the floor and slid up behind me without me realizing it. His arms slid around my waist from behind, his fingers undoing the button of my jeans before I could stop him.

  “… and Jess had her hopes up that we’d do something fun…”

  I couldn’t focus on a word Casey was saying as Wesley’s hand slid beneath the waistband of my pants, his fingers moving lower and lower.

  I couldn’t say a word. I couldn’t tell him to stop or show any reaction at all. If I did, Casey would know I wasn’t alone. But, God, I could feel my whole body turning into a ball of fire. Wesley was laughing against my neck, knowing he was driving me crazy.

  “… I just don’t understand what’s up with you.”

  I bit my lip to keep from gasping as Wesley’s fingers slipped to places that made my knees shake. I could feel the smirk on his lips as they moved to my ear. Asshole. He was trying to torture me. I couldn’t handle it much longer.

  “Bianca, are you there?”

  Wesley bit my earlobe and pushed my jeans even lower with his free hand as the other continued to make me shiver.

  “Casey, I have to go.”

  “What? B, I—”

  I snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the floor. I pushed Wesley’s arms away from me and spun around to face him. Sure enough, he was grinning.

  “You son of a—”

  “Hey,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “You said not to say anything. You didn’t say I couldn’t—”

  I dove for my abandoned video game controller and clicked the button that would restart the match, determined to teach him a lesson for messing with me like that. I’d already gotten in a few good blows before Wesley was able to retrieve his own controller and fight back.

  “And you accuse me of being a cheater,” he said, blocking the punch my gladiator girl threw at him.

  “Well, you deserve it,” I snapped, furiously tapping attack buttons.

  It didn’t matter. Even with my dramatic head start, he still beat me. Damn it.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Duffy.” Wesley turned to grin at me, his gray eyes sparkling with cocky triumph.

  Why did he have to say that? I wondered as my thoughts drifted back to my parents. Had Mom broken the news to Dad yet? Were they fighting? Or crying?

  “Bianca.”

  I realized I’d been biting my lip a little too hard as the metallic taste of blood touched the tip of my tongue. I blinked at Wesley, who was watching me closely. He stared at me for a long moment, but instead of asking me what was wrong or if I’d be okay, he picked up his controller again. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take it easy on you this time.”

  I forced a smile. Everything would work itself out. It had to. “Don’t be stupid,” I told Wesley. “I’m going to kick your ass this time. I’ve just been holding back.”

  He laughed, knowing I was full of shit. “We’ll see about that.”

  And we started another game.

  15

  I’d never heard anything so freaking loud in my life. It sounded like a bomb was going off right next to my ear… a bomb that pulsed to the beat of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Groggily I rolled over and picked my vibrating cell phone up off the nightstand, glancing at the time before I answered.

  Five o’clock in the morning.

  “Hello?” I groaned.

  “Sorry to wake you up, honey,” Mom said through the speaker. “I didn’t wake Casey up too, did I?”

  “Mm-mm. You’re fine. What’s up?”

  “I left the house about two hours ago,” she said. “Your dad and I had a long talk, but… he didn’t handle it very well, Bianca. I knew he wouldn’t. Anyway, I’ve just been driving around since then, trying to figure out what to do next. I’ve decided to check into a hotel in Oak Hill for a few days so that I can spend more time with you, and this weekend I’m gonna start moving down to Tennessee. Your granddad needs someone to look after him. It’ll be a nice place to settle down. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” I murmured.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I should have told you all this later. Go back to sleep. Call me when you get out of s
chool, and I’ll tell you which hotel I’m in. Maybe we can go see a movie tonight?”

  “Sounds good. Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  I put my phone back on the nightstand and stretched my arms over my head, stifling a yawn. This bed, with its cushy mattress and expensive sheets, was way too damn comfortable. I’d never had such a hard time getting up in the morning, but I managed to plant my feet on the carpet eventually.

  “Where are you going?” Wesley asked in a semi-sleepy voice.

  “Home.” I pulled on my jeans. “I’ve gotta take a shower and get ready for school.”

  He pushed himself up on one elbow to look at me. His hair was a mess, brown curls falling into his eyes and sticking up in the back. “You can shower here,” he offered. “I might even join you if you’re lucky.”

  “No, thanks.” I grabbed my jacket off the floor and slung it over my shoulders. “Will I wake your parents up if I go out the front door?”

  “That would be difficult considering they’re not here.”

  “They didn’t come home last night?”

  “They won’t be home for a week,” Wesley said. “And God knows how long they’ll stay then. A day. Maybe two.”

  Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen another car in the almost-mansion’s driveway. Wesley always seemed to be the only one here when I came over—which was pretty freaking often these days. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t remember.” He shrugged and rolled onto his back again. “Business trip. Caribbean vacation. I can never keep up with them.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “Amy stays with our grandmother when my parents are out of town,” he said. “Which is essentially all the time.”

  Slowly I moved back to the bed. “So,” I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Why don’t you stay there, too? I bet your sister would like having you around.”

  “She might,” Wesley agreed. “My grandmother, however, is a different story. She detests me. She doesn’t approve of my”—he made air quotes—“lifestyle. Apparently I’m a disgrace to the Rush name, and my father ought to be ashamed of me.” His laugh was hollow and cold. “Because he and my mother are the staple of perfection, you know.”

  “How does your grandmother know about your, uh, lifestyle?”

  “She hears the gossip from her friends. Old hags hear their granddaughters swooning over me—and who can blame them?—and then they tell my grandmother all about it. She might actually like me if I’d date a girl seriously for a while, but part of me just doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction. I shouldn’t have to change my life to suit her or anyone else.”

  “I understand what you mean.” And I did. Because I’d had that same thought a million times over the years. Recently, it had even pertained to him. It would be easy to change Wesley’s opinion of me, to hang out with different people or bring another girl into my circle of friends—like that freshman from the basketball game—to avoid being the Duff. But why should I do anything just to fix what he or anyone else thought about me? I shouldn’t have to.

  And neither should he.

  Somehow, though, his situation felt different. I glanced around the room, feeling stupid for even comparing it to the Duff issue. Then, without meaning to, I found myself asking, “But don’t you get lonely? In this big house by yourself.”

  Oh my God. Was I actually feeling sorry for Wesley? Wesley the womanizer? Filthy-rich Wesley? Wesley the jackass? Of all the emotions I’d felt for him, sympathy had never come up. What the hell was going on?

  But if there was anything I could relate to, it was family drama. So it seemed like Wesley and I had some stuff in common. Ugh.

  “You forget how rarely I’m alone.” He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at me with a smirk. It didn’t touch his eyes, though. “You aren’t the only one who finds me irresistible, Duffy. I usually have an endless flow of attractive houseguests.”

  I bit my lip, not sure if I should say what was on my mind. Finally, I decided I might as well throw it out there. It wouldn’t do any harm, after all. “Listen, Wesley, this may sound weird coming from me, since I hate you and all, but you can tell me stuff if you want.” It sounded like something out of a cheesy G-rated movie. Great. “I mean, I vented all of my shit about Jake to you, so if you want to do the same,… well, I’m cool with that.”

  The smirk slipped for a second. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then he cleared his throat and added stiffly, “Didn’t you say that you needed to go home? You don’t want to be late for school.”

  “Right.”

  I started to stand, but his warm hand closed around my wrist. I turned around and found him looking at me. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. Before I even realized what was happening, he pulled away and whispered, “Thank you, Bianca.”

  “Um… no problem.”

  I didn’t know what to make of it. Every other time Wesley and I had kissed, it had been a fierce, warlike make-out. A lead-in to sex. He’d never kissed me in such a gentle, greedless way, and it kind of freaked me out.

  But I didn’t have time to think about it as I ran down the stairs and through the foyer. Once I was in my car, I had to speed—which I really, really hate to do—all the way to my house, and I still didn’t get there before six. That gave me only an hour and a half to shower, get dressed, and check on Dad. What a fantastic way to start the morning.

  Even better was the fact that I could tell the living room lights were on when I pulled into my driveway. Not a good sign. Dad always—always— turned out every light in the house before bed. He treated it like a ritual. The fact that he’d left them on was definitely a bad omen.

  I heard the snoring as soon as I tiptoed inside and instantly knew he’d bought more beer. Even before I saw the bottles on the coffee table or his unconscious form on the couch, I knew.

  He’d gotten drunk enough to pass out.

  I started to move forward but stopped myself. As much as I might want to, I didn’t have time to clean up Dad’s mess. I needed to go upstairs. I needed to go to school. And as I crept up to my bedroom, I told myself that he would be fine. He was just shocked, it would be fine, and this… episode would pass without incident. I could hardly hold a few drinks against the guy, considering the bombshell Mom dropped on him, could I?

  I took a quick shower and blow-dried my hair (which always takes forever; seriously, maybe I should just hack all my hair off like Casey instead of wasting my time) before putting on some fresh clothes. After I brushed my teeth, I headed downstairs again and went into the kitchen to grab a Pop-Tart for the road. Then I took off, out the front door.

  By the time I got to school, the student parking lot was almost full. I had to park in the very back row and jog—with my twenty-pound backpack—to the double doors. Of course that left me out of breath by the time I made it into the main hallway. God, I thought miserably as I lugged my fat ass toward Spanish, no wonder I’m the Duff. I’m so fucking out of shape it’s depressing.

  Well, at least the halls were pretty much empty. That meant no one had to witness my patheticness.

  “Hey, where’d you go yesterday?” Jessica asked when I slumped into my desk only seconds before the bell rang. “You weren’t at lunch or in English. Casey and I were kind of worried.”

  “I left school early.”

  “I thought the three of us were gonna have a Valentine’s Day thing to celebrate that we’re all single.”

  “That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?” I sighed and shook my head, trying not to look into her big, hurt eyes. God, she was good at making me feel guilty. And I knew I was going to pay for hanging up on Casey last night. “Sorry, Jessica. Something came up yesterday. I’ll tell you about it after school, okay?”

  Before she could say anything, Mrs. Romali cleared her throat and shouted, “Silencio! Buenos días, amigos. Today we’re going to get started on the present progressive tense, and I’
ll warn you now that it’s pretty darn difficult.”

  And it was. Mrs. Romali passed out a worksheet that kept us all busy until the end of the block. By the time the bell rang, I was really starting to question my affection for Spanish class, and I wasn’t alone.

  “Is it too late to switch classes for the semester?” Angela asked Jessica and me when we walked out of the classroom.

  “About a month too late,” I told her.

  “Damn it.”

  “Bye, Bianca!” Jessica called as they ran toward their chemistry class. “See you at lunch!”

  I waved and started walking down the other hallway. Today, though, I was actually looking forward to AP government. Toby Tucker had asked me to sit near him. I wouldn’t be the lonely girl in the back of the room anymore. I’d never thought that would change or that I would be so happy when it did. What can I say? The self-imposed isolation was finally beginning to bug me.

  But Toby wasn’t there. His seat was completely, one hundred percent empty when I walked into the classroom (for once I was way early, the way Mr. Chaucer liked), and my heart kind of sank a little bit… or, you know, a lot. At least I didn’t have to sit alone. Jeanine practically dragged me to the front of the room, apparently lost without Toby to keep her entertained. She must have been disappointed that I wasn’t nearly as clever with political quips as her usual companion. All I could offer were a few sarcastic statements about the usefulness of the judicial system. God, I missed Toby.

  So did Mr. Chaucer. He seemed to get bored with his own uninterrupted lecture, and he dismissed the class only halfheartedly when the bell rang, his lower lip sticking out like a toddler’s.

  And they say teachers don’t play favorites.

  I was relieved to be out of that classroom, which seemed cold without Toby’s enlightening commentaries, until I got into the cafeteria.

  The lunch table wasn’t exactly a warm, loving environment that afternoon. Casey glared at me all through lunch, obviously pissed that I’d hung up on her the night before. But apparently not pissed enough to skip out on meeting Jessica and me after school to hear my excuses.