The Duff: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (19 page)

Damn,
a little voice murmured in the back of my head. After all this time, I couldn’t believe this was how Casey would find out
my secret. But I knew it was for the best. I knew if I didn’t leave then, I never would. I knew, but I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to feel what I felt. And I
really
didn’t want Casey—or anybody, for that matter—to know about it.

“Hello? Bianca?”

Too bad I never got what I wanted.

“Hey, Casey, I’m sorry to wake you up, but can you do me a big favor? Please.”

“B, are you okay?” she demanded, her drowsiness vanishing. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Can you get your mom’s keys and come pick me up? I really need a ride home.”

“Home?” She sounded confused. Not a good thing when combined with fear. God, I was going to give the poor girl ulcers one
day. “You mean you aren’t at home? You didn’t stay at your place last night?”

“Chill out, Casey. I’m fine,” I said.

“Don’t fucking tell me to chill out, Bianca,” she snapped. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks and totally ignoring me every
time I tried to talk to you. Now you’re calling me early in the morning and telling me to pick you up, but I should chill
out? God, where the hell are you?”

This was the part I’d been dreading, so I took a deep breath before answering her question. “I’m at Wesley’s…. You know the
giant house on—”

“Yeah,” Casey said. “Wesley
Rush’s
place? I know where it is.” She was curious, but she tried to hide it behind her anger. Her acting skills were no better
than mine. “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And she hung up.

I shut the phone and shoved it into my back pocket.

Ten minutes. Just ten short minutes.

I sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony. From here, boring-ass Hamilton looked like a creepy ghost town. The
streets were empty this early in the morning (they were never really busy, to be honest), and all the little gray-roofed shops
were closed. The image wasn’t helped by the dull, sunless sky that left everything under a layer of gloom.

Sunless gloom. Go figure, right?

“You may not be aware of this, but humans tend to sleep in on Saturdays.”

I turned around and found Wesley standing at the balcony entrance, rubbing his eyes sleepily with a little smile on his face.
Despite the chilly wind, he was wearing nothing but his black boxers. Damn, he had an amazing body… but I couldn’t think about
that. I had to end this.

“We need to talk.” I tried to find something to look at besides his hot, half-naked body. My feet seemed like the best option.

“Hmm,” Wesley mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “You know, my father says those are the four most frightening
words a woman can say. He claims that nothing good ever begins with ‘We need to talk.’ You’re worrying me a little here, Duffy.”

“We should go inside.”

“That’s not promising.”

I followed him into his bedroom, wringing my hands uncontrollably. (Sweaty palms are
so
attractive.) He flopped onto his bed and waited for me to do the same, but I remained standing. I couldn’t get too comfortable.
Casey would be there to pick me up in about eight and a half minutes—I was counting—so I had to keep this short and sweet.

Or just short. Nothing about this felt sweet to me.

Anxiously, I reached up and scratched the back of my neck. “Listen,” I said. “You’re a great guy, and I appreciate everything
you’ve done for me.”

Why did this sound so much like a breakup? Didn’t you actually have to be dating someone to dump them?

“Really?” Wesley asked. “Since when? You’ve never referred to me as anything better than a scumbag. I knew I’d grow on you
eventually… but something tells me I should be suspicious.”

“But,” I went on, ignoring him as best I could. “I can’t do this anymore. I think we should stop, um, sleeping together.”

Yep. Definitely seemed breakup-ish to me. All I needed to do was throw in an “It’s not you; it’s me,” and it would be perfect.

“Why?” He didn’t sound hurt. Just surprised.

It hurt me that he didn’t sound hurt.

“Because this isn’t working for me anymore,” I said, sticking with the traditional lines I’d heard in movies. They were classics
for a reason, after all. “I just don’t think this”—I gestured between us—“is in my, uh…
either of our
best interests.”

Wesley narrowed his eyes at me. “Bianca, does this have something to do with what happened last night?” he asked seriously.
“If so, I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about—”

“That’s not it.”

“What, then? You’re not making sense.”

I stared at my shoes. The rubber edges were starting to peel, but the bright red fabric of the Converse hadn’t faded at all.
Bright red
. “I’m like Hester,” I whispered, more to myself than to Wesley.

“What?”

I looked up at him, surprised he’d heard me. “I’m like…” I shook my head. “Nothing. We’re done. I’m done.”

“Bianca—”

Two quick honks from the driveway saved me.

“I—I have to go.”

I was so focused on getting the hell out of that house that I didn’t hear the words Wesley yelled after me. His voice simply
faded into the distance, where I hoped to leave him forever.

Casey revved the engine as I climbed into her mother’s ancient pickup truck. Miss Waller (formerly Mrs. Blithe; she went back
to her maiden name after the divorce) could have had a much nicer vehicle. Back when she was married to Casey’s dad, they’d
had plenty of money. Mr. Blithe had offered to buy her a Lexus, but she’d refused. She loved the rickety old Chevy, which
she’d gotten her junior year of high school. Her daughter, on the other hand, despised it. Especially since it was the only
vehicle she got to drive.

Casey definitely wouldn’t have turned her dad’s Lexus down. Unfortunately, Mr. Blithe had lost what generosity he ever possessed
after the divorce was finalized.

She was gazing through her windshield at the almost-mansion while I pulled on my seat belt. She had pink pajamas decorated
with green frogs on under her jacket, and her short hair stuck up
in every direction. Unlike me, Casey could make looking like crap seem cute and sexy. She didn’t even have to try.

“Hi,” I said.

She looked over at me. Her eyes swept across my face—already searching for telltale signs of trouble—and her forehead wrinkled.
After a short staring contest, she turned away and put the truck into drive, struggling a little with the stick shift. “Okay,”
she said as we pulled out of the driveway. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me things are fine, because I got my ass up at
seven a.m., and I might just wring your neck if you don’t give me a real answer.”

“Oh, yes, because resorting to threats always gets me talking.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Casey growled. “You’re just avoiding the subject, which you do a lot. That might work with
Jess, but you should know damn well by now that it won’t throw me off one bit. Now explain. Start with why I just picked you
up at Wesley’s house.”

“Because I stayed the night.”

“Yeah, I figured that much out on my own.”

I bit my lip, not completely sure why I was still hiding the truth. I mean, it wasn’t as if I could keep the truth from
her for much longer. She’d have it pieced together soon enough, so why not just spill it now? Now that Wesley and I were over,
anyway. Was lying—or withholding, really—just instinctive now? After all these weeks of secrecy, had I developed a habit?

And if I had, wasn’t it about time to break it?

She sighed and the truck slowed a little. “Tell me the truth, Bianca, because I’m pretty confused right now. Confused and
annoyed. Last time I checked, you
hated
Wesley Rush. And I mean
hated
.”

“I did,” I said. “I still do… sort of.”

“ ‘Sort of ’? Jesus, stop dancing around the answers. Look, you’ve been ditching Jess and me for weeks. We barely see you
anymore because you don’t do shit with us. Jess won’t say it, but she seriously thinks you don’t like us anymore. She’s upset,
and I’m pissed because you’ve totally abandoned us. You’re always distracted and zoning out. And you dance around our fucking
questions! Damn it, Bianca, give me some answers here… please.” The anger in her voice broke into a small plea of desperation.
She lowered her voice. “Please, tell me what’s going on with you.”

My heart ached as guilt wrapped around my chest like a boa constrictor. I let out a long breath, knowing I couldn’t lie anymore.
At least not about this. “We’ve been sleeping together.”

“Who? You and Wesley?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“End of January.”

Casey was quiet for a long moment. Then, after it sank in, she asked, “If you hate him, why have you been hooking up with
him?”

“Because… it made me feel better. With all of the drama with my parents and then Jake showing up and all… I just needed to
distract myself. I wanted to escape from it all… you know, in a nonsuicidal way. Sleeping with Wesley just seemed like a decent
idea at the time.” I stared out the window, not wanting to see the
expression on her face. I was sure she’d be disappointed in me. Or, in a sick way, maybe even proud of me.

“So… is that where you’ve been for the past month?” she asked. “Is that why you’ve been bailing on us? You’ve been with Wesley?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Every time things got to be too much, he was just there. I could relieve the stress without freaking
you or Jessica out. It seemed like a decent idea. Then I was addicted… but it all caught up with me, and now things suck worse
than ever.”

“OMG, are you pregnant?”

I gritted my teeth and turned around to face her. “No, Casey, I’m not fucking pregnant.” Was she serious? “God, I’m smart
enough to use a condom, and I’ve been on birth control for, like, three freaking years, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Casey said. “You’re not pregnant… thank God. But if that’s not the problem, why do things suck worse?”

“Well, for one, you’re pissed at me… and I like Wesley.”

“Well, duh, you are screwing him.”

“No, I mean…” I shook my head and turned to look out the window again. The little suburban houses of Hamilton sped past us,
simple and clean. Surrounded by their innocent picket fences. I would have killed to be simple and clean like these little
houses. Instead, I felt complicated and dirty and tainted. “I don’t like him,” I explained. “He annoys the hell out of me
ninety-six percent of the time, and sometimes I’d like nothing better than to strangle him to death. But at the same time
I… I want him to be happy. I think about him way more than I should, and I—”

“You love him.”

“No!” I shouted, spinning around to face her. “No, no,
no!
I do
not
love him, okay? Love is rare and hard to find and takes years upon years to develop. Teenagers don’t fall in love. I don’t
love
Wesley.”

“Fine,” Casey said. “But you have feelings for him, right?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced at me before turning back to the road, half grinning. “I knew it. I mean… all those jokes I made about it were
just teasing, but I knew something would happen after you kissed him.”

“Shut up,” I muttered. “This sucks.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it a bad thing? So what if you have feelings for him. Isn’t that supposed to be great and exciting and give you butterflies
in your tummy or whatever?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not great or exciting. It’s terrible. It’s excruciating.”

“But why?”

“Because he’ll never like me back!” God, wasn’t it obvious? Couldn’t she put two and two together? “He’ll never care about
me that way, Casey. I’m wasting my time even thinking that it’s possible.”

“Why won’t he like you back?” she asked.

Did she have a million questions or what? “Stop.”

“No, I’m being serious, B,” Casey pushed. “I’m pretty sure you can’t read minds or see into the future, so I don’t see how
you know that he won’t ever like you. Why wouldn’t he?”

“You don’t like me very much right now,” I pointed out.

“I’ll get over it,” she said. “Well, eventually. But seriously, what’s stopping Wesley from liking you back?”

“I’m the Duff.”

“Sorry. The what?”

“Duff.”

“Is that even a word?”

“The designated ugly fat friend,” I sighed. “The unattractive girl in the group. That’s me.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Is it?” I snapped. “Is it really that stupid, Casey? Look at you. Look at Jessica. You two look like you jumped out of an
issue of
Teen Vogue
. I can’t compete with that. So, yeah, I’m the fucking Duff.”

“You are not. Who told you that?”

“Wesley.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“Nope.”

“Before or after you fucked him?”

“Before.”

“Well then, he didn’t mean it,” Casey said. “He’s been sleeping with you, right? So he must find you attractive.”

I snorted. “Look who you’re talking about, Casey. Wesley isn’t particularly picky when it comes to sex. I could look like
a gorilla, and he still wouldn’t hesitate to fuck me, but dating me is a totally different situation. He wouldn’t even date
a girl on the Skinny Squad—”

“I really hate it when you call us that.”

“—but me? He would never be the boyfriend of a Duff.”

“Seriously, Bianca,” Casey said. “You are
not
the Duff. If any of us is the Duff, it’s me.”

“Funny.”

“I’m not joking,” she insisted. “I’m still mad at you, so why would I go out of my way to be nice? I mean, I’m like freaking
Bigfoot. I’m six one now! Most guys have to look up to see my face, and no guy likes being shorter than a chick. At least
you’re cute and petite. I’d
kill
to be your height… and to have your eyes. You have way prettier eyes than me.”

I didn’t say anything. I was sure she’d gone insane. How the hell could she be the Duff? Even in her frog pajamas she looked
like she’d just stepped off the set of
America’s Next Top Model
.