The last student entered just as the bell rang. “Sorry, Mr. Chaucer. I was putting up signs promoting next week’s inauguration
ceremony. You didn’t start already, did you?”
My heart skipped a beat when I looked up at the boy who’d just come in.
Okay, so I’m not quiet about the fact that I hate teenagers who date in high school and constantly rant and rave about how
much they “love” their boyfriend or girlfriend. I freely admit that I hate girls who say they love someone before they’ve
dated them. I don’t
hide the fact that, in my opinion, love takes years—five or ten at least—to develop, and high school relationships seem incredibly
pointless to me. Everyone knew this about me… but nobody knew that I was
almost
a hypocrite.
Well, okay, Casey and Jessica knew, but that didn’t count.
Toby Tucker. Aside from the tragic alliteration, he was perfect in every single way. He wasn’t a testosterone-loaded football
player. He wasn’t an overly sensitive guitar-playing hippie. He didn’t write poetry or wear eyeliner. So he probably wouldn’t
have been classified as the typical hottie, but that worked in my favor, right? Jocks, guys in bands, and Emo boys didn’t
look twice at—as Wesley would have so delicately worded it—the Duff. I probably had a better chance with intelligent, politically
active, somewhat socially awkward guys like Toby. Right?
Wrong, wrong,
wrong
.
Toby Tucker was my perfect match. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware of this fact. That was mostly because I lost my ability to
form coherent sentences every time he got close to me. He probably thought I was mute or something. He never looked at me
or spoke to me or even seemed to notice me in the back of the room. For a girl with such a fat ass, I felt pretty invisible.
I noticed Toby, though. I noticed his outdated yet adorable blond bowl cut and his pasty ivory skin. I noticed his green eyes
beneath the lenses of his oval glasses. I noticed that he wore a blazer with
everything,
and I noticed the adorable way he bit his lower lip when he was thinking really hard about something. I was in… okay, not
love, but definitely like. I was deeply in
like
with Toby Tucker.
“Fine,” Mr. Chaucer muttered. “Just keep an eye on your watch tomorrow, Mr. Tucker.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
Toby took a seat in the front row next to Jeanine McPhee. Like a stalker, I listened in on their conversation while Mr. Chaucer
started writing the lecture notes on the whiteboard. I’m not normally such a creep, but lo—
like
makes people do crazy things. At least that’s the popular excuse.
“How was your weekend, Toby?” Jeanine asked through her constantly stuffy nose. “Did you do anything exciting?”
“It was pretty good,” Toby said. “Dad took Nina and me out of state. We toured the University of Southern Illinois together.
That was fun.”
“Is Nina your sister?” Jeanine asked.
“No. Nina’s my girlfriend. She goes to Oak Hill High School. Didn’t I tell you about her? Anyway, we both got accepted there,
so we wanted to check it out. I’m looking at a few other schools, but we’ve been together for a year and a half, and we kind
of want to attend the same school to avoid the long-distance issue.”
“That’s sweet!” Jeanine cried. “I’m actually considering just doing some classes at OHCC before I decide what university I’ll
go to.”
My skin had stopped crawling, but now my stomach was doing sickening somersaults. I thought I was going to vomit, and I had
to fight the urge to run from the room with a hand cupped over my mouth. Eventually, I won the battle to keep my breakfast
where it belonged, but I still felt pretty shitty.
Toby had a girlfriend? For a year and a half? Oh my God! How
had I missed that? And they were going to college
together?
Did that mean he was one of those stupid, mushy romantics I mocked on a daily basis? I’d expected so much more from Toby
Tucker. I’d expected him to be just as skeptical about the nature of teenage love as I was. I’d expected him to see college
as a huge decision, not one that should be swayed by where your boyfriend/girlfriend got accepted. I’d expected him to be…
well,
smart!
He wouldn’t date you, anyway,
a voice in my head hissed at me. It sounded uncannily like Wesley Rush’s unnerving whisper.
You’re the Duff, remember? His girlfriend is probably thinner with bigger boobs
.
It wasn’t even lunch yet, and I already wanted to jump off a cliff. Well, okay, that was overdramatic. I definitely wanted
to go home and go to bed, though. I wanted to forget Toby had a serious girlfriend. I wanted to wash the feeling of Wesley’s
hands off me. Mostly, though, I wanted to erase the word
Duff
from my memory.
Oh, yeah, and things got worse that day, too.
Around six o’clock that night, the guy on the news started talking about some big snowstorm that would show up in the “early
morning hours.” I guess the school board took pity on us since we hadn’t had a single snow day so far, because they went
ahead and canceled classes before the storm even hit. So Casey called at seven-thirty and insisted that we go to the Nest,
since we didn’t have to get up early the next morning.
“I don’t know, Casey,” I said. “What if the roads are bad?” I’ll admit it. I was looking for
any
reason not to go. My day had been crappy enough on its own. I didn’t know if I could endure the torture of that hellhole,
too.
“B, the storm isn’t supposed to even start until, like, three a.m. or something. As long as we’re home by then it’ll be cool.”
“I have a lot of homework.”
“It’s not due until Wednesday. You can work on it
all day
tomorrow if you want.”
I sighed. “Can you and Jessica find another ride and go without me? I just don’t feel up to it. It’s been a bad day, Casey.”
I could always rely on Casey to act at the slightest sign of trouble. “What happened?” she asked. “Are you okay? You didn’t
look happy at lunch. Is it about your mom?”
“Casey.”
“Tell me what’s up.”
“Nothing,” I assured her. “Today just sucked, okay? Nothing major or anything. I’m just not in the mood to go partying with
you guys tonight.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Casey said, “Bianca, you know you can tell me anything, right? You
know you can talk to me if you need to. Don’t keep things bottled up. It’s not good for you.”
“Casey, I’m fi—”
“You’re
fine,
” she interrupted. “Yeah, I know. I’m just saying that if you have a problem, I’m here for you.”
“I know,” I murmured. I felt guilty for getting her nervous like that over something so stupid. I had a bad habit of holding
in all my emotions, and Casey knew that all too well. She was always trying to look out for me. Always coaxing me into sharing
so that I didn’t wind up exploding later. It could get annoying, but knowing that someone cared… well, that felt nice. So
I couldn’t really get mad
about it. “I know, Casey. I’m fine, though. It’s just… I found out Toby has a girlfriend today, and I’m a little bummed. That’s
all.”
“Oh, B,” she sighed. “That sucks. I’m sorry. Maybe if you come out tonight, Jess and I can cheer you up. Two scoops of ice
cream and everything.”
I let out a little laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll just stay home tonight.”
I hung up the phone and went downstairs, where I found Dad using the cordless in the kitchen. I heard him before I saw him.
He was yelling into the receiver. I stood in the doorway, assuming he’d notice me and immediately lower his voice. I figured
some telemarketer was getting an earful of Mike Piper, but then my name came up.
“Think of what you’re doing to Bianca!” Dad’s loud voice, which I’d taken for anger, sounded more like pleading. “This isn’t
good for a seventeen-year-old girl and her mother. She needs you here at home, Gina.
We
need you here.”
I slipped back into the living room, surprised to realize he was talking to my mother. Truthfully, I didn’t really know how
to feel about it. About the things he was saying. I mean, yeah, I missed my mom. Having her home would have been nice, but
it wasn’t as if we weren’t used to getting along without her.
My mother was a motivational speaker. When I was a kid, she’d written some sort of uplifting, inspirational book about improving
self-esteem. It hadn’t sold well, but she still got offers to speak at colleges, support groups, and graduations all over
the country. Since the book had flopped, she came pretty cheap.
For a while, she’d taken only local jobs. Ones she could drive
home from after she finished telling people how to love themselves. But after my grandmother passed away, when I was twelve,
Mom got a little depressed. Dad suggested she take a vacation. Just get away for a few weeks.
When she came back, she gushed about all the places she’d seen and the people she’d met. I guess maybe that’s what sparked
her addiction to traveling. Because after that first vacation, Mom started booking events all over the place. In Colorado
and New Hampshire. She’d set up entire tours.
Only this tour, the one she was on now, had been the longest. She hadn’t been home in almost two months, and this time I wasn’t
even sure where she was speaking.
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.
“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.