The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend Page 3
Obviously that was why Dad was pissed. Because she’d been gone for so long.
“Damn it, Gina. When are you going to stop being a child and come home? When are you coming home to us… for good?” The way my dad’s voice cracked when he uttered that sentence nearly had me in tears. “Gina,” he murmured. “Gina, we love you. Bianca and I miss you, and we want you to come home.”
I pressed myself against the wall that separated me from Dad, biting my lip. God, it was just getting pathetic. I mean, why wouldn’t they just get a fucking divorce already? Was I the only one who could see that things just weren’t working out here? What was the point of being married if Mom was always gone?
“Gina,” my father said, and I thought it sounded like he was on the verge of crying. Then I heard him put the phone down on the counter. The talk was over.
I gave him a couple of minutes before I walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. God, he was a bad liar. “Oh, it’s fine, Bumblebee. I just had a talk with your mom and… she sends her love.”
“From where this time?”
“Um… Orange County,” he said. “She’s visiting your aunt Leah while she speaks at a high school there. Cool, huh? You can tell your friends that your mom is in the O.C. now. You like that show, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I liked it… but it got canceled a few years ago.”
“Oh, well… I guess I’m behind, Bumblebee.” I saw his eyes drift over to the counter, where he’d left his car keys, and I followed them. He noticed this and looked away quickly, before I could say anything. “Do you have plans tonight?” he asked.
“Well, I could make some, but…” I cleared my throat, uncertain of how to say my next sentence. Dad and I really didn’t make a habit of talking to each other. “I could stay home, too. Do you want me to stay here and, like, watch TV with you or something?”
“Oh, no, Bumblebee,” he said with an unconvincing laugh. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll probably go to bed early tonight, anyway.”
I looked him in the eye, hoping he’d change his mind. Dad always got really depressed after his fights with Mom. I was worried about him, but I wasn’t really sure how to approach the subject.
And in the back of my mind, there was this tiny fear. It was stupid, really, but I couldn’t shake it. My father was a recovering alcoholic. I mean, he quit before I was born, and he hadn’t touched a drop since… but sometimes, when he got all pouty about Mom, I got scared. Scared that he might take those car keys and head to the liquor store or something. Like I said, it was ridiculous, but the fear couldn’t be vanquished.
Dad broke our eye contact and shifted uncomfortably. He turned and walked toward the sink, washing the plate he’d just eaten spaghetti off of. I wanted to walk over there and take the plate—his pathetic excuse to distract himself—and throw it on the ground. I wanted to tell him how stupid this whole thing was with Mom. I wanted him to realize what a waste of time these dumb depressions and fights were and just admit things weren’t working out.
But, of course, I couldn’t. All I could say was, “Dad…”
He faced me, shaking his head, a wet dishrag dangling from his hand. “Go out and have fun,” he said. “Seriously, I want you to. You’re only a kid once.”
There was no arguing. That was his subtle way of telling me he wanted to be alone.
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure… I’ll go call Casey.”
I walked upstairs and into my bedroom. I picked my cell phone up off the dresser and dialed Casey’s number. Two rings in, she answered.
“Hey, Casey. I changed my mind about the Nest… and, um, do you think it would be okay if I stayed over tonight? I’ll tell you about it later, but I… I just don’t want to stay at home.”
I refolded the clean clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed before I left, but it didn’t help as much as it usually did.
3
“Pour me another one, Joe.” I slid the empty glass toward the bartender, who caught it easily.
“I’m cutting you off, Bianca.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s Cherry Coke.”
“Which can be just as dangerous as whiskey.” He put the glass on a counter behind the bar. “No more. You’ll thank me later. Caffeine headaches are a bitch, and I know how you girls are. When you gain five pounds, you’ll blame me.”
“Whatever.” So what if I gained weight? I was already the Duff, and the one guy I wanted to impress had a serious girlfriend. I could gain seventy pounds and be no worse off.
“Sorry, Bianca.” Joe moved to the other end of the bar, where Angela and her best friend, Vikki, waited to order drinks.
I drummed my fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, my mind far away from the music and strobe lights. Why hadn’t I insisted on staying home with Dad? Why hadn’t I just made him talk to me? I kept imagining him, wallowing in his misery… alone.
But that’s how we Pipers handled stress.
Alone.
Why was that? Why couldn’t either of us open up? Why couldn’t Dad admit that he and Mom were having issues? Why couldn’t I confront him about it?
“Hello, Duffy.”
Why did that jackass have to sit next to me?
“Go away, Wesley,” I growled, staring down at my restless fingers.
“I can’t,” he said. “You see, Duffy, I’m not one to give up easily. I am determined to hook up with one of your friends—preferably the one with the fantastic rack.”
“Then go talk to her,” I suggested.
“I would, but Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls. They chase him.” He grinned at me. “It’s all right. She’ll be over here begging me to sleep with her soon. Talking to you will just speed up the process. Until then, you get the honor of my company. Lucky for me, it doesn’t look like you’re armed with a beverage tonight.” He laughed but stopped suddenly. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. “Are you all right? You don’t seem as aggressive as usual.”
“Leave me alone, Wesley. I’m serious.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Go away.”
The anxiety inside me needed to escape, to be released in some way. I couldn’t wait until Casey and I got back to her house to vent. I needed to let it out right then. But I didn’t want to cry, not in front of half the school, and there was no way I was going to talk about it with Joe or the douche bag next to me, and punching someone would just get me in trouble. I couldn’t see any other options, but I felt like I’d explode if I didn’t let it out soon.
Mom was in California.
Dad was drowning.
I was too much of a coward to do a damn thing about it.
“There has to be something bothering you,” Wesley persisted. “You look like you might cry.” He put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. “Bianca?”
Then I did a really fucked-up thing. My only excuse is that I was under an unbelievable amount of stress, and I spotted an outlet. I needed something to distract me—anything far away from my parents’ drama—just for a second. And when I saw my chance I didn’t stop to think about how much I’d regret it later. An opportunity sat on the bar stool beside me, and I lunged at it. Literally.
I kissed Wesley Rush.
One second his hand lay on my shoulder, and his gray eyes rested, for once, on my face, and the next my mouth was on his. My lips were fierce with bottled emotion, and he seemed to tense, his body frozen in shock. That didn’t last very long. An instant later, he returned the aggression, his hands flying to my sides and pulling me toward him. It felt like a battle between our mouths. My hands clawed into his curly hair, tugging it way harder than necessary, and his fingertips dug into my waist.
It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help me release the agonizing pressure, but it definitely distracted me. I mean, it’s hard to think about your dad when you’re making out with somebody.
All of my thoughts vanished, and I became a sort of physical being. Emotions disappeared. Nothing existed but our bodies, and our warring lips were at the center of everything. It was bliss! It was amazing not to think.
Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.
His hand slid up from my waist, trailing along my torso, and came to a stop right on my boob.
Everything flooded back, and I suddenly remembered exactly who I was kissing. I tore my hands out of his hair and shoved him away from me as hard as I could. Anger—fresh, hot anger—surged through me, completely replacing the anxious worry I’d been feeling a minute before. His hands dropped, one landing on my knee, as he pulled away. He looked surprised but distinctly pleased.
“Wow, Duffy, that was—”
And I slapped him. I slapped him so hard, my palm stung with the contact.
The hand on my knee flew to his cheek. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Why did you do that?”
“Asshole!” I yelled. I jumped off my stool and stormed onto the dance floor. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was madder at myself than at him.
4
Casey’s queen-size bed was incredibly warm. The pillows were soft, and I felt like I could sink into the fluffy mattress and live there forever. But I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned on my side of the bed, trying not to wake Casey up. I counted sheep. I did that thing where you relax every part of your body from the big toe up. I even imagined one of Mr. Chaucer’s rambling lectures on public policy.
Still wide awake.
I was bottling again, but it had nothing to do with Dad this time. I’d gotten that off my chest after Casey and I had dropped Jessica off earlier that night.
“I’m getting worried about Dad,” I’d told her. I’d waited until Jessica was out of the car to talk about it. I knew she wouldn’t have understood. Jessica was from a happy, healthy two-parent family. Casey, on the other hand, had already seen her parents’ relationship crumble. “He’s so clueless. I mean, isn’t it obvious that it isn’t working? Shouldn’t they just get the fucking divorce and be done with it?”
“Don’t say that, B,” she warned. “Seriously, don’t even think that way.”
I shrugged.
“It’ll all work out,” she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand as we sped toward her house. The snow hadn’t started falling yet, but I could see clouds moving across the stars in the dark sky overhead. “She’ll come home and they’ll talk it through and have makeup sex—”
“God! Gross, Casey!”
“—and everything will be back to normal.” She paused as I pulled into her driveway. “And in the meantime, I’m here for you. If you need to talk, you know I’ll listen.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It was the same Casey Saves the Day speech I’d been hearing for twelve years, any time the slightest problem appeared in my life. Not that I needed it that night, really. Honestly, since we’d left the Nest, Dad hadn’t been on my mind that much. I’d released all that stress when I’d kissed Wesley.
And that was what kept me from sleeping. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done at the Nest. My skin itched. My lips felt foreign. Plus, no matter how many times I’d brushed my teeth in Casey’s bathroom (after half an hour, she’d knocked on the door to make sure I was okay), the taste of disgusting, womanizing bastard was still in my mouth. Ugh! But the worst part was that I knew I’d done it to myself.
I’d kissed him. Yeah, he’d groped me, but what had I really expected? Wesley Rush didn’t exactly have a reputation for being a gentleman. He might have been a jackass, but I had to take the blame for this situation. That knowledge didn’t sit well with me.
“Casey,” I whispered. Okay, so waking her up at three a.m. wasn’t very nice of me, but she was the one always telling me to share or vent or whatever. So, technically, she brought this on herself. “Hey, Casey?”
“Hmm?’
“Are you awake?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell anyone?” I asked. “And will you promise not to freak out?”
“Sure, B,” she mumbled. “What is it?”
“I kissed someone tonight,” I said.
“Good for you. Now go back to sleep.”
I took a deep breath. “It was Wesley… Wesley Rush.”
Casey shot straight up in bed. “Whoa!” She shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her wide hazel eyes. “Okay, now I’m awake.” She turned to face me, her short blond hair sticking up in every possible angle. God, how did she manage to make even that look good? “OMG! What happened? I thought you hated the guy.”
“I do hate him. I will always hate him. It was just a stupid, immature, thoughtless moment of… stupidity.” I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest. “I feel dirty.”
“Dirty can be fun.”
“Casey.”
“Sorry, B, but I don’t see what the problem is,” she admitted. “He’s hot. He’s rich. He’s probably a fantastic kisser. Is he? I mean, he has those lips that just make me think—”
“Casey!” I put my hands over my ears. “Stop! Look, I’m totally not proud of this. I was upset, he was there, and I just… God, I can’t believe I did that. Does this make me a slut?”
“Kissing Wesley? Hardly.”
“What do I do, Casey?”
“Kiss him again?”
I shot her a cold look before falling back onto my pillow. I rolled over so that I faced away from her. “Forget it,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told you at all.”
“Oh, B, don’t be like that,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I think you should look on the bright side for once in your life. I mean, you haven’t had a boyfriend since…” She trailed off. Both of us knew the name, after all. “Anyway, it’s about time you started getting a little bit of action. You never talk to any guys but Joe, and he’s way too old for you. And now that we know Toby’s off the market, what’s the problem if you date Wesley? Would it kill you?”
“I am not dating him,” I hissed. “Wesley Rush doesn’t date, he fucks—everyone, for that matter. I just kissed him, and it was so stupid… stupid, stupid, stupid! It was a huge mistake.”
She nestled back into her side of the mattress. “You know, I knew even you couldn’t resist his charm forever.”
“Excuse me,” I said, rolling back over to glare at her. “I’m resisting just fine, thanks. And you know what? There’s nothing to resist. I find him repulsive. Tonight was just a lapse in judgment and it will never happen again.”
“Never say never, B.”
She was snoring within seconds.
I grumbled to myself for a few minutes, then fell asleep, inwardly cursing both Casey and Wesley. Strangely enough, that was comforting.
Dad had just gotten in from his job at Tech Plus, a local rip-off of Best Buy, when I walked through the door the next afternoon, shaking fresh snow out of my hair. The storm hadn’t been as big as the weatherman predicted, but flurries were still falling outside. The sun was bright, though, so the moderate dusting would be melted by that evening. I took off my jacket and glanced over at Dad, who was on the couch, browsing through the Hamilton Journal with a mug of hot coffee in his left hand.
He looked up when he heard me come in. “Hey, Bumblebee,” he said, putting his mug down on the coffee table. “Did you have fun with Casey and Jessica?”
“Yeah,” I said. “How was work?”
“Busy,” he sighed. “Do you know how many people in this town got laptops for Christmas? I’m sure you don’t, so I’ll just tell you that a lot of them did. Do you know how many of those laptops were faulty?”
“A lot?” I guessed.
“Bingo.” Dad sh
ook his head and started to fold up the newspaper. “If you don’t have the money to spend on a good laptop, why bother? Just save it and buy a better one later. You’ll just wind up spending that extra cash on the repairs if you don’t. You remember that, Bumblebee. If I teach you one thing in life, let that be it.”
“Sure, Dad.”
Suddenly I felt like an idiot. How could I have gotten so worked up last night? Clearly it was over nothing. I mean, yeah, he and Mom were having issues, but it would probably blow over like Casey said. He wasn’t depressed or sad or even remotely close to touching a drop of alcohol.
Still, I knew Mom’s latest absence was hitting him kind of hard. So I figured I ought to try and make it easier on him. I knew he was probably feeling a little lonely lately, and I guess that was partially my fault too.
“Wanna watch TV?” I asked. “I don’t have much homework due tomorrow, so I can wait and do it later.”
“Sounds good,” Dad said. He swiped the remote from the side table. “There’s a rerun of an old Perry Mason on right now.”
I grimaced. “Uh,… okay.”
“I’m kidding, Bumblebee,” he laughed, flipping through the channels. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Let’s see…. Oh, look. There’s a Family Ties marathon on TV Land. You used to love this show when you were little. You and I used to watch the reruns when you were about four.”
“I remember.” I settled onto the couch beside him. “I told you I wanted to be a Young Republican because I thought Michael J. Fox was cute.”
Dad snorted and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. “That didn’t happen. My Bumblebee’s a liberal now.” He put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. And I knew this was what he needed. Or maybe we both did. Just a little bonding time so that the house didn’t feel quite so empty. I mean, I loved the quiet, but too much of it might drive you crazy after a while. “What do you say we watch a few episodes?”
I smiled. “Sure, Dad.”
About halfway into the first episode, I had this weird revelation. Okay, so when I was a kid, I had a major crush on Alex P. Keaton (Michael J. Fox’s super-Republican character on Family Ties), but twelve years later, I was in like with Toby Tucker, a Young Democrat. Did I have a thing for politicians or what? Maybe I was, like, destined to be the wife of a senator… or I might wind up being the First Lady.