The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend

  “I know. I—”

  “Now.”

  He ripped open the envelope, and I realized just how odd this was. He was coming to me with this very personal thing. For support. For encouragement. Back in January, I never would have imagined commanding Toby Tucker to open his acceptance letter. I never would have imagined speaking to him, period.

  My, oh my, how things can change.

  In the best ways possible, of course.

  He slid the paper from the torn envelope with shaking fingers and began to read. I watched his eyes scan the page and widen. Was that joy or heartbreak? Shock, maybe? Surprise that he got in or surprise that he hadn’t?

  “Well?”

  “I… I was accepted.” Toby dropped the paper and let it float gracefully to the floor. “Bianca, I got in!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me.

  That was something else I never would have expected to happen back in January.

  “I told you that you would,” I said, returning the hug.

  Over his shoulder, I spotted Casey and Jessica walking across the cafeteria. They were looking at me as they moved through the crowd of students; they saw me wrapped in Toby’s arms. But for some reason the expressions on their faces didn’t mirror the happiness I felt. Jessica looked kind of sad, but Casey… well, she looked downright furious.

  Why? What was going on with her? With both of them.

  Toby squeezed me before letting go and kneeling down to scoop up his fallen letter. “I can’t believe it. My parents will never believe it.”

  I pulled my eyes away from my friends as they vanished behind a group of freshmen and turned my attention back to the beaming boy in front of me. “If they know you at all, Toby, they’ll totally believe it,” I said. “We’ve all known that you’re destined for great things for a long time. I mean, I’ve known for years.”

  Toby looked surprised. “Years? But we really didn’t start talking until just a few weeks ago.”

  “But we’ve had classes together since we were freshmen,” I reminded him. “We didn’t have to talk for me to know you were awesome.” I grinned and clapped him on the back. “And you just proved me right.” The bell rang, and I turned toward the doors that led to the student parking lot. “See you later, Toby. Congratulations!”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Bianca.”

  As I walked to the double doors, I wondered if I’d said too much. Did I give myself away as a semi-stalker? God, I hoped not. The last thing I wanted was to scare the poor guy away after less than a month of actual human contact. That would really make me a loser.

  I was about to push open the door that led to the student parking lot when a loud “Ahem” caught my attention. I turned around and saw Casey leaning against the school’s nearly empty trophy case, her arms crossed over her chest. The way her eyes were narrowed annoyed me right away.

  “What?” I asked.

  She scowled and let her arms fall heavily to her sides. “Nothing,” she grumbled. “Forget it!”

  “Casey, what are you—?”

  “Not now, B.” She turned around and started stomping away from me. “I have cheer practice.”

  My hands flew automatically to my hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded. “You sound like a total bitch.”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “I’m the bitch? You ignore me, and I’m the bitch? WTF, Bianca!” She shook her head. “Whatever. I’m not having this conversation right now. Not when we were supposed to have it ten minutes ago, like you told Jess we would. I guess you were too busy hanging all over that geek to—”

  “Criticizing Toby sounds pretty damn bitchy to me, Casey,” I snapped. How dare she! She knew I liked him. She knew that having him pay any attention to me was a big deal! She knew, and yet she was bitching at me for it? “You’re acting like a preppy cheerleader snob.”

  Her eyes flashed, and for a second it looked like she might pounce on me. I seriously thought I was going to get into an all-out, hair-pulling, reality-show girl fight with my best friend right in front of the parking lot doors.

  But she walked away. Not a word. Not even a sound. She just drifted toward the gymnasium, leaving me pissed and totally confused.

  I’d fought with Casey before; it’s bound to happen when you’ve been friends as long as we had. But this argument really unnerved me, mostly because I didn’t know what her deal was. I stormed across the parking lot, trying to figure out what I could have done to deserve that drama. Clearly I’d set her off somehow.

  And of course things just had to get better and better.

  My car wouldn’t start. I tried and tried again, but still got nothing. The battery was completely dead.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my fist into the steering wheel. This was not what I needed. Hadn’t my day been bad enough? Hadn’t my life been bad enough? It was like nothing ever went right. “Shit! Damn! Hell! Start, you piece of—”

  “Having car problems, Duffy?”

  I paused mid-rant to glare at the offending shadow. I opened the door and told Wesley, “My fucking car won’t turn on.” Then I saw the girl standing next to him.

  Skinny. Big boobs. It wasn’t Louisa Farr. This girl was cuter. She had a round, sweet face with curly brown hair that bounced around her shoulders and large gray eyes. Way prettier than me, of course. Probably some freshman who only had to take one look at Wesley’s sexy smile and pretty, shiny car before she put out. Again, that twinge of jealousy overpowered me. Just PMS.

  “Would you like me to give you a ride?” he asked.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ll just call…” But who would I call? Mom was in Tennessee. Dad was at work. Casey had cheer practice. Not that it mattered. She was pissed at me anyway, and she and Jess both relied on their parents—or me—to drive them around. Who would come get me?

  “Come on, Duffy,” Wesley said, grinning at me. “You know you want to ride with me.” He bent down to look me in the eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “That’s okay.” There was no way I was riding in the same car as Wesley and his latest conquest. Nope. Not a chance.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can call someone later. There’s no point staying in the parking lot until dark. I just have to drop Amy off, and then I can take you home.”

  Amy, I thought. So that’s the bimbo’s name.

  Then something in the back of my mind clicked.

  Oh my God! Amy! Amy was his sister! I looked at the girl again, wondering how I’d missed it. Curly brown hair, dark gray eyes, very attractive. Duh. The resemblance was obvious. I was an unbelievable dumbass.

  Wesley reached past me and pulled my keys out of the ignition.

  “Fine,” I said, feeling significantly better. I snatched back my keys and dropped them into my purse. “Let me get my stuff.” Once I had everything I needed, I locked the doors and followed Wesley to his car, which was easy to spot since it was the only Porsche in the parking lot.

  “Now, Duffy,” Wesley said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. I slid into the back so that Amy, who was apparently the quiet type, could sit with her brother. “This means you’ll actually have to admit that I do nice things for people on occasion.”

  “I never said you don’t do nice things,” I told him as I attempted to situate myself in the cramped backseat. God, for being such fancy cars, Porches had zero legroom. I had to sit sideways with my knees pulled up to my chest. So not comfortable. “You do. But only when it benefits you in some way.”

  Wesley scoffed. “Did you hear that, Amy? Can you believe what she thinks of me?”

  “I’m sure Amy knows what you’re like.”

  Wesley went silent.

  Amy laughed but she seemed kind of nervous.

  She didn’t say much during the ride, though Wesley made several attempts to coax her into our conversation. At first I wondered if maybe it was because of me, but it didn’t take long to figure out that she was
just shy. When we pulled into the driveway of the large, old-fashioned house, which I knew must belong to Wesley’s grandmother, Amy looked into the backseat and said quietly, “Bye. It was nice to meet you,” before ducking out of the car.

  “She’s sweet,” I said.

  “She needs to break out of her shell.” Wesley sighed as he watched her hurry up to the front porch. Once she’d disappeared into the big house (it was no almost-mansion, but clearly his grandma had money, too), he looked back at me. “You can take the front seat if you want.”

  I nodded and got out of the car. I opened the passenger’s door and eased myself into the seat Amy had just abandoned. Right around the time I got my seat belt fastened, I heard Wesley let out a low groan. “What’s your problem?” I asked, looking up. But I figured out the answer before he said a word.

  A woman in her sixties had just come out of the house, and she was walking toward the car. Wesley’s grandma, no doubt. Wesley’s grandma who hated him. No wonder he looked like he wanted to hide. I felt a little anxious as I watched the woman, who was very well dressed in an expensive-looking salmon sweater and perfectly creased slacks, stride toward the car.

  Wesley rolled down his window when she got close enough to hear him. “Hi, Grandma Rush. How are you?”

  “Don’t play with me, Wesley Benjamin. I’m furious with you at the moment.” But she didn’t sound furious. Her voice was high-pitched and soft. Silky. She sounded like the sweetest old woman ever, but her words didn’t fit the part.

  “What did I do this time?” Wesley asked with a sigh. “Wear the wrong shoes? Or is it that the car isn’t clean enough today? What mild imperfection are you going to throw at me this afternoon?”

  “I would suggest you refrain from using that tone with me,” she said in the least intimidating voice imaginable. This would have been funny if Wesley didn’t look so unhappy. “Live your life how you like, but leave little Amy out of it.”

  “Amy? What did I do to Amy?”

  “Honestly, Wesley,” his grandma said with a dramatic sigh. “Why don’t you just let Amy take the bus? I don’t approve of you driving her around with your”—she paused—“friends in the backseat.” She looked across Wesley, her eyes locking with mine for an instant before shifting back to her grandson. “I wouldn’t want them to be a negative influence on your sister.”

  For a second I was confused. I was a straight-A student. I’d never been in any trouble in my life. Yet this woman thought I would somehow damage her precious granddaughter.

  And then it hit me.

  She thought I was one of Wesley’s tramps. She thought I was a slutty chick he screwed around with. Wesley had told me that his grandmother disapproved of his “lifestyle.” She hated the way he slept around. And seeing me in the backseat, she’d just assumed I was another floozy he’d picked up.

  I looked away, staring out my window to avoid seeing the expression of disgust on the old woman’s face. I felt hurt and angry.

  Mostly because I knew it was true.

  “That is none of your business,” Wesley growled. I’d never heard him sound so pissed before. “You have no right to disrespect my friend, and it certainly isn’t your place to decide what I do with my own sister. You should know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do anything to harm her, despite what you’ve convinced her of. I’m not the monster you tell her I am, you know.”

  “I think I should drive Amy home from school after today.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “But you won’t keep me away from her. She’s my sister, and Mom and Dad will have a fit if I tell them that you’re trying to break apart our family, Grandmother.”

  “I’m afraid your family is already broken, my dear.”

  There was a buzz, indicating that Wesley had rolled his window back up, and the engine revved. I watched as the old woman walked back toward her house. Then, with squealing tires, Wesley backed out of the driveway and sped down the street. I glanced over at him, worried and unsure of what to say. Luckily, he spoke first.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was coming outside. She shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “No, it’s not. She’s a shrew.”

  “I gathered that much.”

  “And the worst part is that she’s right.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “About our family,” he said. “She’s right. It is broken. It has been for a long time. Mom and Dad are always gone, and Grandma’s managed to come between Amy and me.”

  “Amy still loves you.”

  “Maybe,” he murmured. “But she thinks less of me. Grandma has her convinced that I’m some no-good son of a bitch. I’ve seen the way Amy looks at me now. She looks at me like she’s sad. Like she’s disappointed in me. She thinks I’m a horrible person.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have made the joke about you only doing nice things for… for benefits.”

  “It’s fine.” The car was slowing down a little. “Honestly, you’re right. And Grandma is, too. I just never wanted Amy to see me that way.”

  I couldn’t resist the urge to reach over to the gearshift and put my hand over Wesley’s. His skin was warm and soft, and I could feel his pulse throbbing steadily beneath my palm. I forgot about my stupid car and my fight with Casey. I just wanted Wesley to smile again. Even that cocky grin would have worked. I hated that he was so hurt by the possibility of losing his sister’s respect. I wanted to comfort him. I cared about him.

  Oh my God. I actually cared?

  17

  Ten minutes later, the Porsche pulled into my driveway. I grabbed my stuff and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.” A glance back over my shoulder showed me that Wesley was still sulky. Well, hell! Why not? “You can come inside if you want. My dad isn’t home yet.”

  Wesley grinned at me as he cut the engine. “You’re a dirty-minded little girl, Duffy. It would appear that you’re trying to corrupt me.”

  “You’re way past corruption,” I assured him.

  We got out of the car and walked up the driveway together. I dug the keys out of my purse and unlocked the front door, allowing Wesley to walk inside ahead of me. I watched his eyes move around the living room, and I couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious. He must have been comparing the place to his almost-mansion. Obviously there was no comparison. I didn’t even live in a coatrack house like Jessica.

  “I like it,” Wesley said. He looked back at me. “It’s cozy.”

  “That’s nice for small, isn’t it?”

  “No. I’m serious. It’s comfortable. My house is too big, even for four people, and since I’m the only one in it most of the time… I like yours better. Cozy, like I said.”

  “Thanks.” I was flattered. Not that I cared what he thought, but…

  “Where’s your room?” he asked, winking at me.

  “I knew that was coming. Now who’s corrupting whom?” I took him by the elbow and led him up the stairs. “Right here.” I gestured to the first door. “I warn you, it’s about the size of a Cracker Jack box.”

  He opened the door and peered inside. Then he looked back at me with that familiar smirk. “We’ll have enough room.”

  “Enough room for what?”

  Before I knew what was happening, Wesley had grabbed me by the hips and was pushing me into my bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind us, spun me around, and slammed me against the wall, where he began kissing me so hard that I thought my head might pop off. I was surprised, but once that wore off, I joined in. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He tightened his grip on my waist and shoved my jeans down as low as they would go without unbuttoning. Then he slid his hands under the elastic band of my underwear and rubbed his fingers along my hot, tingling skin.

  After a few minutes, he pulled his mouth away from mine. “Bianca, can I ask you something?”

  “No,” I said quickly.
“I am not giving you a blow job. No fucking way. Just the thought of it is disgusting and degrading and… No. Never.”

  “While that’s a little disappointing,” Wesley said, “it’s not what I was planning to ask you.”

  “Oh.” That was a little embarrassing. “Well, then what?”

  He took his hands out of my pants and placed them gently on my shoulders. “What are you escaping from now?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know your ex-boyfriend left town weeks ago,” he said. “But I can tell there is still something bothering you. As much as I’d like to believe it’s just me—you can’t get enough of me—I know there’s more to it. What are you running from, Bianca?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “It’s none of your business, okay?” I pushed him away from me and yanked my jeans back up where they belonged. Automatically, I knelt down by the pile of clean clothes at the foot of my bed and started folding them. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

  Wesley sat down on the floor beside me. “Fine,” he said. I could tell he was using that I’ll-be-patient-until-you-decide-to-tell-me voice. The one you use with little kids. Too bad for him. That would never happen. He was just my sex toy, after all, not my psychiatrist.

  We talked about school while I folded my clothes. When they were all in neat stacks, I stood up and moved to sit on my bed.

  “Aren’t you going to put them away?” Wesley asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Then what was the point in folding them?”

  I sighed and stretched out on my back, kicking off my Converse. “I don’t know,” I admitted, resting my head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. “I guess it’s a habit or whatever. I fold the clothes every night, and it makes me feel better. It’s relaxing and it clears my head. Then the next morning, I dig through the stacks for what I’m gonna wear, and they all get messed up, so I get to fold them again that night. Like a cycle.”

  My bed creaked as Wesley climbed on top of me, wedging himself between my knees. “You know,” he said, looking down at me. “That’s pretty strange. Neurotic, really.”