Kody Keplinger: The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend

“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 shook 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.

Nah. Politicians didn’t marry Duffs. They didn’t look good enough on the sidelines of debates. And I wasn’t the marrying type, anyway. I had a better shot of being the Monica Lewinsky of the future. I’d just be sure to burn all, um, incriminating dresses.

Hey, Obama was kind of sexy for an old guy. Maybe I had a shot.

I bit my lip as Dad laughed at one of the sitcom-y jokes. How was it that even Family Ties brought me back to that word?

Duff.

God, Wesley and his damn pigeonholing just wouldn’t leave me alone. The word was taunting me, even in my own home. I scooted closer to Dad, trying to focus on the show. On our time together. On anything but Wesley and that stupid label. I tried to forget about that damn kiss and how idiotic I’d been.

Tried, tried, tried.

And, of course, failed miserably.

When I was in kindergarten, I had a traumatic monkey bars experience. I’d been halfway across, my legs swinging beneath me, when my hands got sweaty and made me slip. I fell for what seemed like a mile before landing on the ground in a heap. All the other five-year-olds laughed at me and my scraped, bloody knee. All of them but one.

Casey Blithe walked out of the gawking group of grade-schoolers and came to stand in front of me. Even back then, I knew she was beautiful. Blond locks, hazel eyes, rosy cheeks… the epitome of five-year-old perfection. She could have been in pageants.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I said through thick, hot tears. I wasn’t sure whether I was crying because of the pain in my knee or because of the way all my classmates were laughing at me.