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.
“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” She reached out a hand and pulled me up. Then she turned and
yelled at the kids who were making fun of me.
After that, she basically appointed herself my personal caretaker, never letting me out of her sight, determined to
keep me out of trouble. From that moment on, we were best friends.
Of course, that was before popularity and Duffs got involved. She wound up being tall (almost six one—the girl was
an Amazon!) and thin and gorgeous. I wound up looking like well, the opposite. To see us separately, no one
would ever think we were close. No one would guess the pretty Homecoming Queen was with the chubby mousyhaired
girl in the corner.
But we were best friends. She’d been there for me through everything. She’d even stuck by me freshman year,
after I’d had my heart broken for the first—and if I had anything to do with it, only—time. She never let me isolate
myself or drown in my own misery. Despite the fact that she could easily find prettier, cooler, more popular friends,
she stayed with me.
So when she asked me to drive her home after cheerleading practice on Wednesday afternoon, I agreed. I mean,
after all she’d done for me over the past twelve years, the least I could do was give her a lift every now and then.
I waited in the cafeteria, staring at the psychedelic blue-and-orange walls (the guy who picked our school colors
must have been on some serious drugs), attempting to finish my calculus homework. I was in the middle of asking
myself the age-old question—where will I use this in real life?—when I felt a hand on my shoulder. That skin-crawly
thing happened, and I knew exactly who was behind me.
Great. Just fucking great.
I jerked out from under Wesley’s hand and spun around to face him, gripping my pencil like a dart and aiming it
right at his Adam’s apple.
He didn’t even flinch. His gray eyes examined the pencil with feigned curiosity and he said, “Interesting. Is this how
you greet all the boys you like?”
“I don’t like you.”
“Does that mean you love me, then?”
I hated the smooth, confident way he spoke. A lot of girls thought it was sexy, but it was really just stalker-ish.
Everything about him screamed date rape! to me. Ugh.
“It means that I hate you,” I snapped. “And if you don’t stay the fuck away from me, I’ll report you for sexual
harassment.”
“Might be a hard case,” Wesley mused. He swiped the pencil from me and began twirling it between his fingers.
“Especially considering you’re the one who kissed me. Technically, I could report you for harassment.”
I gritted my teeth, still hating to even think about it, not even bothering to remind him that he’d been more than
willing to participate. “Give me back my pencil,” I muttered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “With you, this could be classified as a dangerous weapon along with glasses of cherry
soda. Interesting choice, by the way. I’d always pegged you for more of a Sprite girl. You know plain.”
I just glared at him, hoping he would spontaneously combust before I grabbed my textbooks and notepads off the
table. He dodged my attempt to stomp on his foot and stared after me as I marched down the hallway. I was
halfway to the gym, where Casey, the cheerleading captain, should have been wrapping up practice, when he
caught up with me.
“Oh, come on, Duffy. That was just a joke. Lighten up.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Your sense of humor needs some work, then,” Wesley suggested. “Most girls find my jokes charming.”
“Those girls must have IQs low enough to trip over.”
He laughed.
Apparently, I was the funny one.
“Hey, you never told me why you were upset the other night,” he said. “You were too busy shoving your tongue down
my throat. So what was the problem?”
“None of your—” I began, but I stopped suddenly. “Hey! I didn’t there was no tongue!” A shiver of rage ran
through me as I noticed his mischievous smile. “You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here. God, why are you
stalking me? I thought Wesley Rush didn’t chase girls. I thought they chased him, right?”
“You’re right. Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls, and I’m not chasing you,” he said. “I’m here waiting for my sister.
She’s making up a test for Mr. Rollins. I just saw you in the cafeteria and thought—”
“What? Thought you’d torture me a little more?” I clenched my fists. “Leave me the hell alone. You’ve already made
me miserable.”
“How have I done that?” he asked, sounding a little surprised.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that Duff’ was plaguing me because of him.
He’d enjoy it too much.
Instead, I took off running to the gym doors as fast as I could. This time he didn’t follow me—thank God. I hurried
into the blue-and-orange gymnasium (Oh God. Bright colors I could feel a headache coming already) and
took a seat on the closest bleacher.
“Great practice, girls!” Casey cried from the other side of the gym. “Okay, the next basketball game is Friday. I
want you all to practice the dance, and Vikki, work on those high kicks. All right?”
The Skinny Squad murmured in general agreement.
“Awesome,” said Casey. “See you later, guys. Go Panthers!”
“Go Panthers!” the other cheerleaders echoed as they separated. Most of the girls hurried to the locker room, but a
few headed for the doors, chatting excitedly with their friends.
Casey skipped over to me. “Hey, B,” she said. “Sorry we went a little overtime. Do you mind if I change before we
get out of here? I feel a little stinky.”
“I don’t care,” I murmured.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly suspicious.
“Nothing, Casey. Go change.”
“Bianca, I can tell—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t about to get into another Wesley discussion with her. She’d probably wind up
defending him like last time. “I’m fine, okay?” I said, softening my voice. “Long day. Headache.”
Casey still looked skeptical when she walked, with considerably less pep, to the locker room.
Fantastic. I felt like a total bitch. She’d only wanted to make sure I was okay, and I shut her out. I shouldn’t have
taken my anger at Wesley out on her, even if she did think he was a fucking prince.
But when she came out of the locker room in her hoodie and jeans, her usual cheer had returned. She swung her
purse over her shoulder and came to where I was sitting, a smile plastered across her spotless, smooth face.
“Sometimes, I can’t believe the shit I hear in the locker room,” she said. “You ready to go, B?”
“Sure.” I picked up my books and started toward the gym doors, hoping that Wesley wasn’t still lurking in the
hallway.
Casey must have noticed my anxiety. I could see the tense, worried look on her face, but she didn’t bring it up
again. Instead, she said, “So, okay, Vikki is totally gonna get a reputation as a whore.”
“She already has one.”
“Well, yeah,” Casey admitted, “but it’s about to get worse. She’s dating that junior football player—you know,
what’s-his-name—but she told some guy from Oak Hill High that she’d take him to Basketball Homecoming. I don’t
know why she does this stuff to herself. You, Jess, and me will have a front-row seat for the drama when it all
comes out that night. BTW, what are you wearing to the dance?”
“Nothing.”
“Hot, but I doubt they’ll let you in naked, B.” We were walking through the maze of tables in the cafeteria on our way
to the parking lot.
“No. I mean, Jessica and I aren’t going to Homecoming,” I said.
“Of course you are,” Casey protested.
I shook my head. “Jessica is grounded. I promised her I’d come over and we’d watch girly movies.”
Casey looked stunned as we pushed through the blue door and entered the freezing student parking lot. “What?
But Jess loves Basketball Homecoming. It’s her favorite after prom and Football Homecoming.”
I smiled a little, in spite of myself. “And Sadie Hawkins.”
“Why didn’t I know about this? Homecoming is getting close. Why didn’t you all tell me?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. And I guess Jessica is still moping. She might not want to talk about
not being able to go.”
“But but who will I go to the dance with now?”
“Um, a boy,” I suggested. “Casey, it’s not as if it’ll be hard for you to get a date.” I fished the car keys out of my back
pocket and unlocked the doors of my Saturn.
“Right, who the hell wants to go with Sasquatch?”
“You are not Sasquatch.”
“Besides,” she said, ignoring me, “it’s way better to go with you guys.” She climbed into the passenger’s seat and
wrapped herself in the blanket Jessica had used a few nights earlier. “Damn it, B. You really need to get that
fucking heater fixed.”
“You really need to get your own car.”
She changed the subject. “Okay, so back to the dance. If you two aren’t going do you guys care if I crash your
movie fest? It could be a Girls’ Night In. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”
Despite my crappy mood, I smiled. Casey was right. We hadn’t had a movie night together in a long time, and it
would be nice to hang out without the drama of boys or loud techno music. For once, I might actually have fun on a
Friday night. So I reached for the volume on my stereo and said, “A week from Friday, it’s a date.”
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