The Duff: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (26 page)

But I
had
forgotten about the consequences. And it suddenly hit me how easily Vikki and I could trade places. I could have been the
girl everyone was talking about. I could have had a pregnancy scare. Or worse. I mean, I was on birth control, and Wesley
and
I were always safe, but these things fail sometimes. It could easily have failed for us. And yet there I was, judging Vikki
for pretty much the same thing. I was a hell of a hypocrite.

“You are not a whore.”
I had a sudden flash of Wesley that last night in his bedroom, telling me exactly who I was. Telling me that the rest of
the world was just as confused as me. That I wasn’t a whore, and I wasn’t alone.

I didn’t know Vikki that well. I didn’t know what her home life was like or anything that personal aside from her boy issues.
And standing there in the bathroom, listening as she told me her story, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been running away
from something, too. If I’d been judging her, thinking of her as a slut all this time when, in reality, we were living scarily
similar lives.

Calling Vikki a slut or a whore was just like calling someone the Duff. It was insulting and hurtful, and it was one of those
titles that just fed off of an inner fear every girl must have from time to time. Slut, bitch, prude, tease, ditz. They were
all the same. Every girl felt like one of these sexist labels described her at some point.

So, maybe, every girl felt like the Duff, too?

“God, I’m late,” Vikki said as the tardy bell rang. “I should go.”

I watched as she gathered her purse and textbooks off the counter, wondering what was going through her head. Had all of this
made her realize the consequences of her choices?

Our
choices.

“See you around, Bianca,” she said, moving toward the door.

“Bye,” I said. Then, without meaning to, I added, “And, Vikki… I’m sorry. It’s really messed up the way people are talking
about you. Just remember that what they say doesn’t matter.” Again, I thought of Wesley and what he’d said to me in his bedroom.
“The people who call you names are just trying to make themselves feel better. They’ve fucked up before, too. You’re not the
only one.”

Vikki looked surprised. “Thanks,” she said. She opened her mouth like she might say something else, but then closed it again.
Without another word, she left the bathroom.

For all I knew, Vikki might go out and hook up with another guy that same night. She might not have learned anything from
this experience. Or maybe she’d change her behavior altogether—at the very least, she might be more careful. I might never
know. That was her choice. Her life. And it wasn’t my place to judge.

It was never my place to judge.

And as I walked down the hall, five minutes late for English, I decided that I’d think twice before calling Vikki—or anyone
else for that matter—a whore again.

Because she was just like me.

Just like everyone else.

That was something we all had in common. We were all sluts or bitches or prudes or Duffs.

I was the Duff. And that was a good thing. Because anyone who didn’t feel like the Duff must not have friends. Every girl
feels unattractive sometimes. Why had it taken me so long to figure that out? Why had I been stressing over that dumb word
for so long when it was so simple? I should be proud to be the Duff. Proud to have great friends who, in their minds, were
my
Duffs.

“Bianca,” Mrs. Perkins greeted me as I walked into the
classroom and took my seat. “Well, better late than never, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry it took me so long.”

When I got home that afternoon, I was too exhausted to climb the stairs, so I collapsed on the couch and fell into a nice
doze. I’d forgotten how good it felt to take a nap in the middle of the day. I mean, Europeans have the right idea with their
siestas. Americans should consider adding them to their daily schedule because they’re incredibly refreshing, especially after
a dramatic day like I’d had.

It was almost seven when I woke up, which didn’t give me much time to get ready for my date. My hair, which looked like a
haystack after snoozing on the couch, would take almost the entire hour to repair. Just great.

Since I’d started dating Toby, I’d been paying more attention to how I looked. Not that he cared about that kind of thing.
The guy probably would have said I was pretty in a clown suit—rainbow wig and all. But I felt this constant need to impress
him. So I straightened my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail, put on a pair of silver clip-on earrings (I’m too chicken
to get any piercings), and found the shirt Casey had given me for my seventeenth birthday. The silky material was white patterned
with intricate silver designs, and it fit me tight in the chest, which made my itty-bitty boobies appear somewhat bigger.

It was almost eight o’clock by the time I struggled down the stairs in my platform wedge sandals, risking my safety for the
sake
of looking taller. I was careful to avert my eyes when I walked past the kitchen because Dad, obviously thinking the roses
were from Toby, had put the bouquet in an antique vase on the dining table last night. It was a sweet gesture, but seeing
the bright red flowers only brought back the annoying questions. So I stumbled into the living room and plopped down on the
couch to wait for my date, promising myself that I’d figure out my romantic mess sometime over the weekend.

For lack of anything better to do, I picked up the copy of
TV Guide
that was lying on the coffee table and began scanning the program schedule. A yellow Post-it note wedged between the pages
caught my attention, and I flipped to the section it was marking. Dad had highlighted a
Family Ties
marathon for the following Sunday night, using the little slip of paper as a bookmark. I smiled and pulled a pen out of my
purse, scribbling,
“I’ll make popcorn,”
on the Post-it. Dad would see it when he got home from his meeting.

Just when I put the magazine back on the table, the doorbell rang. I stood up as quickly as I could without falling and walked
over to the door, expecting to be greeted by a big undeserved Toby smile. But the smile that flashed in front of me, while
sparkly and white, belonged to someone quite different.

“Mom?” I practically gasped the word, sounding like some chick in a soap opera who’s just learned her evil twin is still alive
or something. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and said, “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Tennessee.”

“I was, but I came to visit you, of course,” my mother replied, cocking her head to the side in her movie-star fashion. Her
platinum blond hair was pulled into a neat clip at the back of her head,
and she was wearing a red-and-black knee-length dress. Typical Mom.

“But it’s, like, a seven-hour drive,” I said.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” She sighed dramatically. “Seven and a half in bad traffic. So… are you going to invite me in or
not?” I could tell by the way her hands twisted around the strap of her handbag that she was nervous to be back in this house.

“Um, yeah,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in. Sorry. But, uh, Dad’s not here.”

“I know.” She was looking around the living room in a way that made me feel anxious for her. She eyed the armchair and couch
that had once belonged to her as if debating whether she was allowed to sit there now. “He has his AA meetings on Fridays.
He told me.”

“You talked to him?” This was news to me. As far as I’d known, my parents had been avoiding contact since Mom’s reappearance
last month.

“We’ve spoken on the phone twice.” She pulled her eyes away from the furniture and focused them on me. They felt like heavy
weights on my shoulders. “Bianca, sweetie…” Her voice was soft and sad. Painful to hear. “Why didn’t you tell me he was drinking
again?”

I shifted, trying to slide out from under her gaze. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I just hoped it would pass. I didn’t
want to worry you over nothing.”

“I understand, but Bianca, this is a serious issue,” she said. “You know that now, I hope. If it ever happens again, you don’t
get to keep it to yourself. You have to tell me. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Good.” She sighed, looking immensely relieved. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why
are
you here?”

“Because your dad also told me something else,” she teased. “Something about a boy named Toby Tucker.”

“You drove seven and a half hours because I have a date?”

“I have other reasons to be in Hamilton,” she said. “But this is the most important. So, is it true my baby has a boyfriend?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, shrugging. “I guess.”

“Well, tell me about him,” Mom urged, finally deciding to sit down on the sofa. “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice,” I said. “How’s Grandpa?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He’s fine. What’s wrong? You’re taking your birth control, aren’t you?”

“God, Mother, yes,” I groaned. “That’s not the issue.”

“Thank the Lord. I’m too young and hot to be a nana.”

No kidding,
I thought, remembering Vikki.

“Then, what’s the problem?” she pressed. “I came because I heard you had a hot date tonight, and I wanted to have that special
Mommy moment. But if you’re having problems, I get to spill out some Mommy advice, too. It’s like a two-for-one visit, isn’t
it? Makes the travel time worth it.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

“Oh, honey, I’m kidding. What’s wrong? What’s the matter with this boy?”

“Nothing. He’s absolutely perfect. He’s smart and nice and totally right for me. Only there’s another guy…” I shook my head.
“It’s stupid. I’m being an idiot. I just need a little time to think things over. That’s all.”

“Well,” Mom said, standing up. “Just remember to do what makes you happy, okay? Don’t lie to yourself because you think it’s
safer. Reality doesn’t work like that…. I think I told you that before.”

She had.

But I’d been running for so long I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore.

“Though,” Mom continued. “I brought you a little something for your date, and it might help you out while you’re thinking
everything over.”

I watched with mild horror as she pulled a pink-and-yellow box from her handbag. Any object that came wrapped in those colors
couldn’t be a good thing. “What is it?” I asked as she placed the box in my outstretched hand.

“Open it and find out, silly.”

Sighing, I pulled the hideous bow off the box and flicked open the lid. Inside was a small silver chain with a little white
metal charm in the shape of a
B
. Like the ones girls wear in middle school, as if they’ll forget their own name or something.

Mom reached forward and removed the necklace from the box. “I saw it and thought of you,” she said.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She put down her handbag and moved around to stand behind me, pushing my hair aside so that she could fasten the chain around
my neck. “It’s gonna sound corny, so try not to roll your eyes at me, okay? But maybe this will help you remember who you
are while
you’re figuring things out.” She moved my hair back into place and stepped in front of me again. “Perfect,” she said. “You
look wonderful, sweetie.”

“Thank you,” I said, and this time I really meant it. Seeing her made me realize just how much I’d missed my mother.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and I knew it had to be Toby. As I reached for the knob, I felt Mom slide into place behind
me, ready to observe.

Oh, great.

“Hey,” I said, opening the door and glancing away from Toby’s blinding smile.

“Hi,” he said. “Wow. You look beautiful.”

“Of course she does,” Mom interjected. “What did you expect?”

“Mother,” I hissed, shooting her a dirty look over my shoulder.

She shrugged. “Hello, Toby,” she said, waving. “I’m Gina, Bianca’s mother. I know, I look more like her sister, right?”

I gritted my teeth. Toby laughed.

“Have a good time,” Mom said, kissing me on the cheek. “I’m going to pack up some of my things that are still here, but I’m
talking at a retirement center in Oak Hill Sunday, so I’ll be staying at a hotel for the weekend. We’ll have lunch tomorrow
so I can get all the details.”

She pushed me out the door before I could argue with this, and then I was alone with Toby on the porch.

“She’s funny,” he said.

“She’s insane,” I muttered.

“What kind of talks does she give? She said she was going to a retirement home?”

“Oh. She wrote a self-esteem book.” I glanced back at the house, watching through the window as Mom moved past, headed for
the bedroom she used to sleep in, prepared to pack up the last few things she’d left behind. I’d never realized the irony
until that moment. For the past couple months, I’d been struggling with my own self-esteem while my mother coached others
on how to improve theirs. Maybe if I’d talked to her, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to figure things out. “She talks to
people around the country about learning to accept themselves.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Toby said.

“Maybe.”

He smiled, wrapping his arm around my waist and leading me off the porch.

I sighed and danced out of his grip as I let myself into the car.

Casey and Jessica were waiting in the backseat of the Taurus. Both of them grinned mischievously at me when I climbed into
the passenger’s seat. “Someone’s dressing sexy,” Casey teased. “I gave you that shirt nine months ago. Is this the first time
you’ve worn it?”

“Um,… yeah.”

“Well, it looks good on you,” she said. “Looks like I’m the Duff tonight. Thanks a lot, B.” She winked at me, and I couldn’t
help but smile. Casey had recently taken to using
Duff
as a word of her own, molding it into our casual conversations. At first I’d found it kind of unsettling. I mean, the word
was an insult. It was horrible. But after the revelation I’d had that day in the bathroom with Vikki, I appreciated what Casey
was doing. The word was ours now, and as long as we held on to it, we could control the hurt it inflicted.