The Duff: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (8 page)

I was only fourteen when I lost my virginity to Jake Gaither. He’d recently turned eighteen, and I knew perfectly well that
he was too old for me. Still, as a freshman in high school, I just wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to be liked and to fit in,
and Jake was a senior with a car. At the time, I thought of that as perfection.

In the three months we were together, Jake never took me out on a real date. Once or twice, we made out in the back of a dark
movie theater, but we never went out to dinner or bowling or anything like that. We spent most of our time sneaking around
so that our parents and his sister, who later became one of my best friends, wouldn’t find out about us. I actually found
that part, the secrecy, fun and sexy. It was like a forbidden romance—like
Romeo and Juliet,
which I’d read in English class that semester.

We slept together several times, and while I really didn’t enjoy the actual sex, the sensation of closeness, of connection,
felt comforting to me. When Jake touched me like that, I knew he loved me. I knew sex was a beautiful, passionate thing, and
it was right to be with him.

Sleeping with Wesley Rush was entirely different. While I definitely got more physical pleasure out of it, the closeness and
the love were missing. When it was over, I felt dirty. I felt like I’d done something wrong and shameful, but at the same
time, I felt good. Alive. Free. Wild. My mind was totally cleared, like someone had hit the refresh button. I knew the euphoria
wouldn’t last forever, but the filthy regret was worth the momentary escape.

“Wow,” Wesley said. We were lying in his bed only a few minutes after we’d finished, with a foot or more space between our
bodies. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

God, he ruined everything when he talked. Annoyed, and still wading through the emotional repercussions, I sneered. “What? Ashamed that you screwed the Duff?”

“No.” I was surprised by how serious he sounded. “I’m never ashamed of anyone I sleep with. Sex is a natural chemical reaction.
It always happens for a reason. Who am I to dictate who experiences the joy of sharing my bed?” He didn’t see me roll my eyes
as he continued. “No, I just meant that I’m shocked. I was honestly starting to believe that you hated me.”

“I do hate you,” I assured him, kicking off the covers and moving to pick up my clothes.

“You must not hate me too much,” Wesley said, rolling onto his elbow and watching me dress. “You did pretty much throw yourself
at me. Generally, hatred doesn’t inspire that kind of passion.”

I pulled on my T-shirt. “Believe me, Wesley, I definitely hate you. I was just using you. You use people all the time, so
I’m sure you understand.” I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my alligator clip from the nightstand. “This was fun, but if you
ever tell anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you. Clear?”

“Why?” he asked. “Your reputation could only improve if people found out you slept with me.”

“That might be true,” I admitted. “But I have no desire to improve my reputation, especially not that way. So are you going
to keep your mouth shut or do I need to find a sharp object now?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said.

“You’re not a gentleman.” I put my hair back up in the clip. “That’s why I’m worried.” I glanced at my reflection in the full-length
mirror on the wall. Once I was sure that I looked normal—not guilty—I turned to face Wesley again. “Hurry up and put your
pants on. We need to finish this stupid essay.”

It was a little after seven that night when Wesley and I finally finished the essay for English. Or at least, we finished
the rough copy. I made him promise that he’d e-mail me the draft later so that I could edit it.

“You don’t trust me to get it done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me as I put my shoes on in the foyer.

“I don’t trust you with anything,” I said.

“Except getting you off.” He was wearing that grin I hated. “So, was this a one-time thing, or will I be seeing you again?”

I started to snort, to tell him he was dreaming if he honestly
thought I’d be back, but then I remembered that I was about to go back home. The manila envelope would probably still be lying
on my kitchen table.

“Bianca?” Wesley asked. A shiver ran across my skin when he touched my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I jerked out of his reach and moved toward the door. I’d gotten halfway out before I turned to him and said, with a moment
of hesitation, “We’ll see.” Then I ran down the front steps.

“Bianca, wait.”

I clutched my jacket closer to me, trying to fight the cold wind, and yanked open the door of my Saturn. He was behind me
in seconds, but, thankfully, he didn’t touch me this time. “What?” I demanded as I slid into the front seat. “I need to get
home.”

Home, the last place I wanted to go.

The winter sky had already turned black, but I could still see Wesley’s gray eyes in the darkness. They were exactly the color
of the sky before a thunderstorm. He crouched down by my door to get to my eye level, and the way he was looking at me made
me really uncomfortable. “You didn’t answer the other question.”

“What other question?”

“Are you all right?”

I scowled at him for a long moment, assuming he was just trying to be a pain in my ass. But something about his lighted eyes
made me hesitate. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not,” I whispered. I started my car, and he darted out of the way when I moved
to slam the door shut. “Bye, Wesley.”

And I drove away.

When I got home, Dad was still in his bedroom. I finished
cleaning up the living room, avoiding the kitchen altogether, and ran upstairs to take a shower. The hot water didn’t wash
away the dirty feeling Wesley had left on my skin, but it did relax some muscles that were forming tense knots in my back
and shoulders. I just hoped the dirt would wash away in time.

I’d barely wrapped a towel around me when my cell phone started ringing in my bedroom, and I sprinted across the hall to answer
it in time.

“Hey, B,” Casey said into my ear. “So are you and Wesley done?”

“What?”

“You two were working on the English project today, weren’t you?” she asked. “I thought he was meeting you at your place.”

“Oh,… right. Well, I wound up going over to his house instead.” I was trying hard not to sound guilty.

“OMG, you mean the mansion?” Casey asked. “Lucky! Did you walk out onto one of the balconies? Vikki said that’s half the reason
she wants to hook up with him again. Last time, it was just in the backseat of his Porsche, but she really wants to see the
inside of that house.”

“Is there a point to this conversation, Casey?”

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed. “Sorry. It’s no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

What was with everyone asking me that tonight?

“I know you hate him,” she continued. “I wanted to make sure you were fine… and that he was okay, too. You didn’t, like, stab
the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering
hotties, but if you need help burying the body, you know I’ll bring the shovel.”

“Thanks, Casey,” I said. “But he’s alive. Today wasn’t as bad as I expected. Actually,…” I almost told her everything. How
Mom and Dad were getting a divorce and how, in a moment of desperation, I’d kissed Wesley Rush,
again
. How that kiss had turned into something much, much more. How my body felt dirty all over, yet at the same time amazingly
free. The words lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make them come out.

Not yet, at least.

“
Actually
what, B?” she asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Um,… nothing. He actually had some good ideas for the paper. That’s it. I guess he’s, like, a Hawthorne freak or something.”

“Well, that’s good. I know you find smart boys sexy. Are you gonna admit you want him now?”

I froze, not knowing how to respond to this, but Casey was laughing already.

“I’m teasing, but I’m glad things turned out okay. I was a little worried about you today. I just had this feeling that something
bad was going to happen. I guess I was just being paranoid.”

“Probably.”

“I’ve got to go. Jessica wants me to call her with all the details of my meeting with Harrison. She just doesn’t get it, does
she? Anyway, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey.”

“See you later, B.”

I flipped the cell phone shut and placed it on my nightstand,
feeling like a total liar. Technically, I hadn’t lied; I’d only withheld, but still… withholding from Casey was, like, a mortal
sin. Especially when she made such a point of opening herself to my problems.

But I’d tell her eventually. Well, about my parents, at least. I just needed to deal with it myself before I sprang it on
her and Jessica. The Wesley thing, though… God, I hoped they’d never find out.

I knelt at the foot of my bed and started folding the clean clothes, like I did every night. Weirdly, I wasn’t as stressed
as I’d expected myself to be. I hated to admit it, but I definitely had Wesley to thank for that.

Dad didn’t leave his bedroom for the rest of the weekend. I knocked a couple of times Sunday afternoon and offered to make
him something to eat, but he just murmured a refusal, never opening the door between us. His isolation terrified me. He must
have been depressed about Mom, and ashamed he’d fallen off the wagon to top it off, but I knew this wasn’t healthy. I decided
that if he hadn’t emerged by Monday afternoon, I would bust into the room and… well, I didn’t know what I’d do next. In the
meantime, I just tried not to think of my father or the divorce papers on the kitchen table.

Surprisingly, that was pretty easy.

Most of my thoughts swarmed around Wesley.
Ew,
right? But I really didn’t know how to handle school on Monday. What did one do after having a one-night stand (or, in my
case, one-afternoon stand) with the school’s biggest man-whore? Was I supposed to act
nonchalant? Treat him with my normal undisguised hatred? Or, because I’d honestly enjoyed myself, should I act, like, grateful?
Tone down the contempt and be
friendly?
Did I owe him something? Surely not. He’d gotten just as much out of the experience as I had, minus the self-loathing.

By the time I arrived at school Monday morning, I’d pretty much settled on avoiding him entirely.

“Are you okay, Bianca?” Jessica asked as we walked out of Spanish at the end of first block. “You’re acting… um,
weird
.”

I’ll admit, my spy skills weren’t exactly smooth, but I knew that Wesley walked past the classroom on his way to second block,
and I didn’t want to risk an awkward post-sex meeting in the hallway. I peered anxiously around the edge of the door, scanning
the crowd for those unmistakable brown curls. But if Jessica could tell something was up, I was being way too obvious.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, stepping out into the hall. I looked both ways, like a small child crossing a busy highway, and I
was relieved that I didn’t see him anywhere. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” she said without suspicion. “I must be imagining it, then.”

“You must be.”

Jessica tugged at a loose strand of her blond hair that had escaped from the confines of her ponytail. “Oh, Bianca, I forgot
to tell you! I’m so excited!”

“Let me guess,” I teased. “This has something to do with Harrison Carlyle, right? Did he ask you where you got your cute skinny
jeans this time? Or how you condition your luscious hair?”

“No!” Jessica giggled. “No…. Actually, it’s my brother. He’s
coming to visit us for the week, and he should be getting into Hamilton by noon today. He’s going to pick me up from school
this afternoon. I’m really excited to see him. It’s been, like, two and a half years since he left for college and
—.
Hey, Bianca, are you sure you’re okay?”

I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. I could feel the blood draining from my face, and my hands turned cold and started
to shake. There was definite nausea coming on, but I told the same old lie. “I’m fine.” I forced my feet to move again. “I
just, um, thought I forgot something. It’s fine. Now, what were you saying?”

Jessica nodded. “Oh, well, I’m so excited about Jake! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve really, really missed him.
It’ll be nice to hang out with him for a few days. Oh, and I think Tiffany is coming with him. Did I tell you they just got
engaged?”

“No. That’s great…. I’ve gotta get to class, Jessica.”

“Oh,… okay. Well, I’ll see you in English, Bianca.” I was halfway down the hallway before Jessica got the sentence out of
her mouth.

I pushed past the stampeding students, barely hearing them as they bitched at me for stepping on their toes or ramming them
with my backpack. The sounds around me slowly faded as unwanted memories flooded into my head. It was like Jessica’s words
had broken the dam that held them back for so long.

“So, you’re Bianca? The freshman bitch that’s been screwing my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend? I haven’t been—”

“Stay the hell away from Jake.”

My face burned as the memories rushed back. My feet moved so fast I was almost sprinting toward my AP government class. As
if I could outrun the thoughts. As if they wouldn’t chase me with a vengeance. But Jake Gaither would be back in Hamilton
for a week. Jake Gaither was engaged to Tiffany. Jake Gaither… the boy who broke my heart.

I ran into the classroom just as the tardy bell rang. I knew Mr. Chaucer’s eyes were glaring in my direction, but I didn’t
bother to look. I took my seat near the back of the room, trying desperately to focus on something else.

But not even Toby Tucker’s witty commentary on the legislative branch or the back of his adorable out-of-fashion head could
tempt my thoughts away from Jake and his bride to be.

I barely heard a word Mr. Chaucer said all block, and when the bell rang, my page of notes, which should have been full of
details from the lecture, consisted of only two short, barely legible sentences. God, I was going to fail this class if shit
like this kept coming up.