When I faced Jessica again, her eyes were dark and… sad. Or maybe angry. It was hard to tell with her because she didn’t show either of those emotions very often.
Either way I understood.
Jessica had been like that freshman once. That’s how Casey and I had found her. Two senior girls Casey cheered with-complete cheerleading stereotypes: bitchy, blond, and bimbo-like-had been bragging about some dopey sophomore they kept as a “pet.” And, more than once, Casey had watched them talk down to her.
“We’ve got to do something about it, B,” she’d said insistently. “We can’t just let them treat her that way.”
Casey thought she had to save everyone. Just like she’d saved me on the playground all those years ago. I was used to this. Only this time, she wanted my help. Normally I would have agreed just because it was Casey asking. But Jessica Gaither was a girl I had no desire to even meet, let alone save.
It wasn’t that I was heartless. I just didn’t want to know Jake Gaither’s sister. Not after what he’d done to me. Not after the drama I’d been through the year before.
And I’d managed to stand my ground quite firmly… until that day in the cafeteria.
“God, Jessica, are you fucking brain-dead or something?”
Casey and I both turned around in our seats to see one of the skinny cheerleaders glaring down at Jessica, who was at least a head shorter than she was. Or maybe that was just the way Jessica slumped, cowering.
“I asked you to do one simple thing,” the cheerleader spat, jabbing a finger down at the plate Jessica was holding. “One stupidly simple thing. No fucking dressing on my salad. How hard is that?”
“That’s how the salad came, Mia,” Jessica mumbled, her cheeks bright pink. “I didn’t-”
“You’re a moron.” The cheerleader turned around and stormed away, ponytail swinging behind her.
Jessica just stood there, looking down at the plate of salad with big, sad eyes. She seemed so small then. So weak and mousy. At that moment, I didn’t think of her as beautiful. Or even all that cute. Just fragile and skittish. Like a mouse.
“Hurry up, Jessica,” one of the other cheerleaders called from their table, sounding annoyed. “We’re not saving your seat forever. Jesus.”
I could feel Casey looking at me, and I knew what she wanted. And, staring at Jessica, I couldn’t exactly pretend I didn’t understand why. If anyone needed a little bit of Casey Saves the Day, it was this girl. Plus, she didn’t look anything like her brother. That made my decision a little easier.
I sighed and said, loudly, “Hey, Jessica.”
She jumped and turned to look at me, and the fearful expression on her face almost broke my heart.
“Come sit with us.” It wasn’t a question. Not even an offer. It was pretty much an order. I didn’t want to give her a choice. Even though, if she was sane, she totally would have chosen us.
Then Jessica was hurrying toward us, and the senior cheerleaders were pissed, and Casey was beaming at me. And that was that. History.
Though it didn’t seem so much like the past just then, as I watched the little freshman girl hurry off toward the concession stand. I could see the way her jeans hung on her wrong-she didn’t quite have the curves for low-rise pants-and that awkward slouch in her shoulders that made her look strangely unbalanced. Those little things that separated her from her so-called friends. A walking echo of the girl Jessica had been. So long ago. Only now I had a new word for it. For that girl.
Duff.
There was no way around it. That freshman was definitely the Duff in comparison to the pretty bitches bossing her around. It wasn’t that she was so unattractive-and she definitely wasn’t fat-but out of the four of them, she was the last one anyone would notice. And I couldn’t help wondering if that was the point. If they used her as more than just the errand runner. Was she there also to make them look better?
I looked at Jessica again, remembering how small and weak she’d seemed that day. Not cute. Not pretty. Just kind of pathetic. The Duff. Now she was beautiful. Voluptuous and adorable and… well, sexy. Any guy-except Harrison, unfortunately-would want her. But the strange thing was, she didn’t look all that different. Not on the surface, at least. She’d been curvy and blond even then. So what had changed?
How could one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever met have been the Duff? How did that logic even work? It was like Wesley calling me sexy and Duffy at the same time. It just didn’t make sense.
Was it possible that you didn’t have to be fat or ugly to be the Duff? I mean, Wesley had said, that night at the Nest, that Duff was a comparison. Did that mean even somewhat attractive girls could be Duffs?
“Should we go help her?”
I was startled for a second, and a little confused. I realized Jessica was watching the freshman make her way down the sideline.
I had a horrible thought then. One that officially made me the biggest bitch ever. I seriously considered going and claiming that freshman as our own, so that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be the Duff anymore.
I could hear Wesley’s voice in my head. “Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff.” I’d said I wasn’t most people, but was I? Was I just like those cheerleaders-now long since graduated-who’d mistreated Jessica or like these three perfect ponytailed juniors on the bleachers?
Before I could make a decision, though, to help the freshman-be it for the right reasons or the wrong-the buzzer sounded over our heads. Around us, the crowd stood, all cheering and whooping, blocking my view of the small, dark-haired figure. She was gone, and so was my opportunity to save her or use her or whatever I might have done.
The game was over.
The Panthers had won.
And I was still the Duff.
13
Valentine’s Day might as well have been called Anti-Duff Day. I mean, what other day can hurt a girl’s self-esteem more? Not that it mattered. I hated Valentine’s Day even before I was aware of my Duff status. Honestly, I didn’t even understand why it was a holiday. Really, it was just an excuse for girls to whine about being lonely and for guys to worm their way into getting laid. I found it materialistic, indulgent, and, with all of the chocolate, completely unhealthy.
“It’s my favorite day of the year!” Jessica cried as she danced her way down the hall toward Spanish one morning. It was the first time I’d seen her truly bouncy since Jake’s departure two days earlier. “All of the pink and red! And flowers and candy! Isn’t it fun, Bianca?”
“Sure.”
It had been almost a week since the basketball game, and neither of us had mentioned the freshman girl since we left the gym that night. I wondered if Jessica had forgotten about it already. Lucky her. I hadn’t. I couldn’t. That girl and the thing we had in common-our shared identity as Duffs-had been lurking at the back of my mind ever since.
But I certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. Not with Jessica. Not with anyone.
“Oh, I just wish Harrison had asked me to be his valentine,” she said. “That would have been perfect, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
“Nope.”
“You know, I think this is the first year that all three of us have been single,” Jessica continued. “Last year, I was dating Terrence, and the year before that Casey was with Zack. I guess we can all just be each other’s valentines. That would be pretty fun. It is our last Valentine’s Day together before college, and we haven’t really hung out together lately. What do you think? We can hang out at my house to celebrate.”