“Oh. Um, hey, Amy.” I shoved the book I was examining back onto the shelf. “What’s going on?” I kept my face pointed away from her, pretending I was still scanning the titles in front of me.
I didn’t want to look at her. For one, she looked too much like her brother, and I was trying—and failing miserably—to forget about him. For another, I couldn’t stand to meet her eyes when she tore into me, which I just knew she was about to do. Not that I could blame her.
Well, okay, so I couldn’t really imagine timid little Amy tearing into anything, but still.
“I, um… I have something to say to you,” she said, trying to sound determined.
Or maybe Amy was upset at me for facilitating Wesley’s “lifestyle.” Maybe she wanted to blame me for the distance between them.
If that was the case, I wanted to defend him. To tell her that her grandmother was misrepresenting Wesley. That he wasn’t a bad guy—and definitely not a bad brother. But I knew not to get involved. It wasn’t my place to fix his family issues. He wasn’t even part of my life anymore.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Here it comes, I thought. Whatever she says, don’t cry.
“I… I want to…” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Huh?” I turned around to face her. Surely I hadn’t heard her right. There was just no way.
“Thank you,” she repeated. “For Wesley. He… he’s a lot different, and I know it has to be because of you. I… I appreciate it, so thank you.”
Before I could ask for a detailed explanation—spoken slowly so that I could follow—Amy turned around and hurried away, her brown curls bouncing behind her.
I was left standing in the middle of the library, totally confused.
And it got worse later that day.
When Wesley rounded the corner after lunch while I was pulling notebooks out of my locker, I wasn’t really surprised. Like I said, he was everywhere. Vikki was with him, clinging to his arm and flipping her hair like the girl in a shampoo commercial. She was laughing, but I could have bet money that whatever Wesley had said wasn’t all that funny. She just wanted to inflate his ego… as if it needed to get any bigger.
“Over here,” she giggled, pulling him into the alcove ten feet away from me. “I wanna talk to you.”
Talk? I thought. Yeah, not likely.
I swear, I tried not to listen. I knew hearing them flirt would only get me worked up, but Vikki’s squeaky voice carries, and they were standing really close to me, and yeah, a masochistic little part of me couldn’t stop myself. I started arranging the textbooks in the bottom of my locker, trying to make enough noise that I wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation.
“What are you doing for prom?” Vikki asked.
“I don’t have any plans,” Wesley answered.
I shuffled my papers loudly, hoping that, even if I couldn’t drown out their words, they would notice me and take the make-out session elsewhere. I mean, they weren’t groping each other yet, but I knew both of them well enough to be sure it wouldn’t take long.
“Well,” Vikki said, either not hearing me or just not caring. “I thought maybe we could go together.” I didn’t have to look to know she was scraping her long, polished fingernails lightly down Wesley’s arm. Vikki used the same moves on every guy. “I thought maybe after the dance we could have a little time alone… at your place, maybe?”
I had the serious desire to puke. I grabbed my books, slammed my locker shut, and prepared to bolt toward my next class before I had to hear Wesley say yes. Let them have each other! I thought bitterly. STDs all around! To hell with it. But he answered before I could even take a step.
“I don’t think so, Vikki.”
I froze.
What? What? Rewind for a second, please. Did Wesley really turn down a girl? A girl who was perfectly willing to fuck his brains out? I had to be dreaming.
Vikki seemed to be experiencing a similar reaction. “What? What do you mean?”
“I’m just not interested,” Wesley said. “But I’m sure you have plenty of other boys who would love to join you. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Vikki stumbled out of the alcove with a look of hurt surprise. “It’s, um, okay. Not a problem. Just thought I’d offer.” She hesitated for a second. “I guess I’ll see you later? Gotta go to class. Bye.” And she took off down the hall, obviously confused.
She wasn’t the only one.
Was this the difference Amy had been talking about? Was Wesley suddenly inclined to be less man-whorish? If so, how was that because of me?
I stared as Wesley walked out of the alcove. Then, for the first time in days, he looked at me. His eyes locked with mine. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but the expression in his eyes was unreadable. I could tell he wasn’t angry, though. That fact sent instant relief through my tense muscles.
Knowing he wasn’t pissed at me made the guilt ebb a little… but not entirely. I’d still said some cold things to him, and in that second, as I held his gaze, I thought of speaking, of apologizing. I thought about it, but I didn’t say a word.
Wesley took a step toward me, and I suddenly remembered who I was—who he was. While Wesley’s rejecting Vikki was undeniably surprising, it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t have a chance with him; he would never want a real relationship… especially not with me. And then there was the fact that I was dating Toby. Plus, I knew that communicating with Wesley would just make my steadily improving life complicated again. I wouldn’t punish myself that way.
I spun around and started running down the hallway, pretending I didn’t hear him call after me.
I slowed when I turned down another hallway and saw Toby (my boyfriend? I wasn’t sure how this worked) waiting for me by the old, out-of-order snack machines. He smiled and adjusted his glasses, and I could tell he was genuinely pleased to see me. Was I equally happy to see him? I was. Of course I was, but the smile on my face felt artificial.
Toby’s arm wrapped around my shoulders when I got close enough. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I sighed.
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips before asking, “Is it okay if I walk you to class?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the emptying hallway. “Sure,” I murmured, facing forward again. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “That sounds… perfect.”
A few days later, I found Jessica waiting for me outside my third-block calculus class. “Can we talk on the way to English?” she asked without the usual bob in her step or swing to her hair. I could tell something was up by the way she bit her lower lip.
“Um, sure,” I said, shifting my books under my right arm. Seeing my perpetually perky friend looking so solemn made me uneasy. “Is something wrong?”
“Kinda,… not really.”
We shoved our way through the packed halls together, trying not to step on too many people’s toes. I waited for Jessica to speak, my curiosity and anxiety rising. I really wanted to say, “Hurry up! Out with it!” Luckily, though, she started talking before my legendary low patience ran out.
“It’s about you and Toby. I just don’t think you’re right together.” She said it so fast that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her at first. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she moaned. “It’s not any of my business, but I don’t see a spark there, you know? And Casey totally disagrees with me. She says you’re better with Toby, and she might be right, but… I don’t know. You don’t seem like yourself when you’re with him. Please don’t be mad.”
I shook my head, trying to fight my sudden urge to laugh. That was it? That was what she was worried about? I’d seriously thought someone was dying or, at the least, her Mom had forbidden her going to prom. Instead, it turned out that she was worried about me. “Jessica, I’m not mad at you at all.”
“Oh, good,” she breathed. “I was really scared you would get p.o.’ed at me.”
Ouch. Was I that bitchy? So horrible that one of my best friends was afraid to tell me her opi
nion because I might go into a rage or something? God, that made me feel like shit.
“It’s not that I don’t like Toby,” Jessica continued. “I do. He’s sweet, and he’s nice to you, and I know you need that after… after my brother.”
My heart may have actually stopped beating for a second there. I stopped right where I was and, after a stunned pause, whirled around to stare at Jessica. “How do you…?” I managed to whisper.
“Jake told me,” she said. “I was telling him about my friends when your name came up, and he told me about your thing a few years ago. He feels horrible about it now, and he wanted me to apologize for him, but I didn’t want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Bianca. It must be really hard for you to be my friend after what Jake did.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“I just can’t believe you didn’t say anything. It must have been on your mind when Jake came to visit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think less of your brother,” I said. “I know you think a lot of him, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”
Jessica didn’t say anything. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me as close to her as humanly possible. It was a little awkward at first, especially considering the fact that Jessica’s giant boobs were practically smothering me, but I gradually fell into her embrace. My arms slid around her waist, returning the hug. Knowing I had someone who would hold me like this, with nothing to gain, made me feel like one of the luckiest people in the world.
“I love you, Bianca.”
“Um, what was that?”
Jessica released me and took a step back. “I love you,” she said. “You and Casey both. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had, and I don’t know where I’d be if you two hadn’t come along my sophomore year. I’d probably still be letting those preppy girls walk all over me.” She looked down at her feet. “You two always try to protect me, like not telling me about what an a-hole my brother was. And I want to do the same thing for you.”
“Jessica, that’s sweet.”
“That’s why I’m telling you this,” she went on. “I know Toby is nice and he likes you, but I don’t see a connection. I mean, I’m glad you’re spending time with me and Casey again, and I think it’s cool that he hangs out with us sometimes, but what I care about is that you’re happy. You might look happy, but I don’t think you are.” She took a deep breath and tugged at the hem of her floral-print skirt. “I don’t want to bring this up, but… I’ve heard some rumors about Wesley lately.”
I bit my lip. “Oh.”
“He hasn’t been as flirty lately,” she said. “I haven’t seen him with any girls, and I thought”—she looked at me with wide chocolate eyes—“I thought maybe you’d want to know. I mean, I know you have feelings for him, and—”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, “it’s not that simple.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I just thought I’d throw it out there. Sorry.”
I sighed and smiled, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her toward the English classroom. “It’s okay. I appreciate you being concerned—I really, really do. And you might be right… about me and Toby, I mean. But this is just high school. We’re only dating. It’s not like I’m looking for a husband or whatever. I don’t think you need to worry about me yet. I’m fine.”
“Casey says you’re usually lying when you say that,” Jessica informed me.
“She does, huh?”
I released Jessica’s hand as we walked into English class, determined to avoid answering her accusation. That proved to be pretty easy, really. I was able to feign distraction—well, it wasn’t entirely fake—when I noticed the folded piece of paper lying on my desk. I sat down and picked it up, assuming it was from Casey. Who else would be writing me a note?
But Casey always drew a smiley face over the i in my name, and the handwriting on the outside of this paper was small, cursive, and faceless.
Confused, I unfolded the paper and read the single sentence that was scrawled across the top.
Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls, but I’m chasing you.
25
At one time, I thought being the Duff meant no boy drama. Clearly, I was wrong. How did this happen? How did I, the ugly girl, end up in the middle of a love triangle? I wasn’t a romantic. I didn’t really even want to date. But there I was, torn between two attractive guys that, by all means, I shouldn’t have had a shot with. (Trust me, not as glamorous as it sounds.)
On one side, I had Toby. Smart, cute, funny, polite, sensitive, and practical. Toby was perfect in every conceivable way. I mean, he was a little dorky, but that was what made him so adorable. I liked being with him, and he always put me first. He respected me and never seemed to lose his patience. There was absolutely nothing to complain about with Toby Tucker.
On the other side, there was Wesley. A jerk. An asshole. An arrogant, womanizing rich boy who put sex before everything else. Sure, he was incredibly hot, but he could annoy the hell out of me. He was irritatingly charming, and his cute little grin could really get under my skin. But he had a way of making my heart race and my head spin. I wasn’t afraid to be a bitch around him. I hated to admit it, but Wesley understood me. I felt like myself when I was with him, whereas I was always trying to hide my neuroses around Toby.
God, life had been so much easier when no one noticed me.
The note from Wesley weighed half a ton in my back pocket as I headed out to the student parking lot that afternoon. To say I was confused would have been a massive understatement. I mean, that single sentence left me with a million different questions, but there was one in particular:
Why the hell does Wesley want me?
Seriously. The guy had dozens of girls who would kill to be with him. Why me? Wasn’t he the one who had called me the Duff in the first place? What the fuck?
But when I got home, it just got worse.
On Toby’s suggestion, I’d started reading Wuthering Heights in my spare time. Honestly, the main characters pissed me off so much that it was hard to push through the book. I was considering putting it down for good that day, but a line of dialogue caught my attention.
“My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees—my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath—a source of little visible delight, but necessary.”
As stupid as it sounds, that little excerpt really got in my head, like a song you hate but can’t stop singing. I tried to read on, but the words kept bouncing around in my brain. I turned back the page and read the lines again and again. I was trying to figure out why they bugged me so much when I was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
“Thank God,” I muttered, relieved to have a reason to slam the book shut. I jumped off my bed and ran downstairs. “Coming!” I yelled. “Just a second!”
I pulled open the front door, expecting to find Toby, who’d said he might drop by later. But the man on my front porch was a chubby redhead in his fifties. Definitely not my boyfriend. He wore a shabby green uniform and a hat that didn’t quite fit. The name tag on his jacket read JIMMY. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a clipboard was wedged under his arm.
“Are you Miss Bianca Piper?” he asked.
“Um… yeah.”
His squinty eyes lighted with a smile. “Sign this, please,” he said, giving me the clipboard and a pen. “Congratulations.”
“Er, thanks,” I said, handing the clipboard back to him.
He passed me the bouquet, which I now saw was full of real red roses, and produced a white envelope from his back pocket. “This is for you, too,” he said. “You’re a lucky girl. It’s not often I get to make a delivery like this to someone your age.” He smiled. “Young love.”
Young love? God, I had to fight the urge to correct him. To give him my long speech about how teenagers don’t fall in love. But he was still talking.
/> “Your boyfriend must really be a keeper. Not many boys are so thoughtful at that age.”
I stared down at the roses and said, “You’re probably right.” Was Toby still trying to cheer me up? God, he was so nice. Too bad I didn’t deserve all of the kindness.
After thanking the delivery guy, I closed the door. I felt guilty for considering my situation a love triangle. It was just me and Toby, and Wesley danced along the outskirts, far away from us… or that’s how it should have been. That’s how Toby deserved for it to be.
I put the bouquet on the kitchen table and opened the envelope, expecting to find a sappy but perfectly worded letter from my flawless boyfriend. It was the kind of thing I’d normally scoff at, but I’d let Toby get away with it. He really did have a way with words sometimes. That would help when he became a famous politician.
But the handwriting on the letter was the same as the note in my back pocket. This time, however, there was much more to absorb.
Bianca,
Since you keep running away from me at school, and, if I remember correctly, the sound of my voice causes you to have suicidal thoughts, I decided a letter might be the best way to tell you how I feel. Just hear me out.
I’m not going to deny that you were right. Everything you said the other day was true. But my fear of being alone is not the reason I’m pursuing you. I know how cynical you are, and you’re probably going to come up with some snarky reply when you read this, but the truth is, I’m chasing you because I really think I am falling in love with you.
You are the first girl who has ever seen right through me. You’re the only girl who has ever called me on my bullshit. You put me in my place, but, at the same time, you understand me better than anyone ever has. You are the only person brave enough to criticize me. Maybe the only person who looks close enough to find my faults—and, clearly, you’ve found many.
I called my parents. They’re coming home this weekend to talk to Amy and me. I was afraid to do this at first, but you inspired me. Without you, I never could have done that.