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For all I knew, Vikki might go out and hook up with another guy that same night. She might not have learned anything from this experience. Or maybe she’d change her behavior altogether—at the very least, she might be more careful. I might never know. That was her choice. Her life. And it wasn’t my place to judge.
It was never my place to judge.
And as I walked down the hall, five minutes late for English, I decided that I’d think twice before calling Vikki—or anyone else for that matter—a whore again.
Because she was just like me.
Just like everyone else.
That was something we all had in common. We were all sluts or bitches or prudes or Duffs.
I was the Duff. And that was a good thing. Because anyone who didn’t feel like the Duff must not have friends. Every girl feels unattractive sometimes. Why had it taken me so long to figure that out? Why had I been stressing over that dumb word for so long when it was so simple? I should be proud to be the Duff. Proud to have great friends who, in their minds, were my Duffs.
“Bianca,” Mrs. Perkins greeted me as I walked into the classroom and took my seat. “Well, better late than never, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry it took me so long.”
When I got home that afternoon, I was too exhausted to climb the stairs, so I collapsed on the couch and fell into a nice doze. I’d forgotten how good it felt to take a nap in the middle of the day. I mean, Europeans have the right idea with their siestas. Americans should consider adding them to their daily schedule because they’re incredibly refreshing, especially after a dramatic day like I’d had.
It was almost seven when I woke up, which didn’t give me much time to get ready for my date. My hair, which looked like a haystack after snoozing on the couch, would take almost the entire hour to repair. Just great.
Since I’d started dating Toby, I’d been paying more attention to how I looked. Not that he cared about that kind of thing. The guy probably would have said I was pretty in a clown suit—rainbow wig and all. But I felt this constant need to impress him. So I straightened my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail, put on a pair of silver clip-on earrings (I’m too chicken to get any piercings), and found the shirt Casey had given me for my seventeenth birthday. The silky material was white patterned with intricate silver designs, and it fit me tight in the chest, which made my itty-bitty boobies appear somewhat bigger.
It was almost eight o’clock by the time I struggled down the stairs in my platform wedge sandals, risking my safety for the sake of looking taller. I was careful to avert my eyes when I walked past the kitchen because Dad, obviously thinking the roses were from Toby, had put the bouquet in an antique vase on the dining table last night. It was a sweet gesture, but seeing the bright red flowers only brought back the a
For lack of anything better to do, I picked up the copy of TV Guide that was lying on the coffee table and began sca
Just when I put the magazine back on the table, the doorbell rang. I stood up as quickly as I could without falling and walked over to the door, expecting to be greeted by a big undeserved Toby smile. But the smile that flashed in front of me, while sparkly and white, belonged to someone quite different.
“Mom?” I practically gasped the word, sounding like some chick in a soap opera who’s just learned her evil twin is still alive or something. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and said, “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Te
“I was, but I came to visit you, of course,” my mother replied, cocking her head to the side in her movie-star fashion. Her platinum blond hair was pulled into a neat clip at the back of her head, and she was wearing a red-and-black knee-length dress. Typical Mom.
“But it’s, like, a seven-hour drive,” I said.
“Oh, believe me, I know.” She sighed dramatically. “Seven and a half in bad traffic. So… are you going to invite me in or not?” I could tell by the way her hands twisted around the strap of her handbag that she was nervous to be back in this house.
“Um, yeah,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in. Sorry. But, uh, Dad’s not here.”
“I know.” She was looking around the living room in a way that made me feel anxious for her. She eyed the armchair and couch that had once belonged to her as if debating whether she was allowed to sit there now. “He has his AA meetings on Fridays. He told me.”
“You talked to him?” This was news to me. As far as I’d known, my parents had been avoiding contact since Mom’s reappearance last month.
“We’ve spoken on the phone twice.” She pulled her eyes away from the furniture and focused them on me. They felt like heavy weights on my shoulders. “Bianca, sweetie…” Her voice was soft and sad. Painful to hear. “Why didn’t you tell me he was drinking again?”
I shifted, trying to slide out from under her gaze. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I just hoped it would pass. I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”
“I understand, but Bianca, this is a serious issue,” she said. “You know that now, I hope. If it ever happens again, you don’t get to keep it to yourself. You have to tell me. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good.” She sighed, looking immensely relieved. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because your dad also told me something else,” she teased. “Something about a boy named Toby Tucker.”
“You drove seven and a half hours because I have a date?”
“I have other reasons to be in Hamilton,” she said. “But this is the most important. So, is it true my baby has a boyfriend?”
“Um, yeah,” I said, shrugging. “I guess.”
“Well, tell me about him,” Mom urged, finally deciding to sit down on the sofa. “What’s he like?”
“He’s nice,” I said. “How’s Grandpa?”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He’s fine. What’s wrong? You’re taking your birth control, aren’t you?”
“God, Mother, yes,” I groaned. “That’s not the issue.”
“Thank the Lord. I’m too young and hot to be a nana.”
No kidding, I thought, remembering Vikki.
“Then, what’s the problem?” she pressed. “I came because I heard you had a hot date tonight, and I wanted to have that special Mommy moment. But if you’re having problems, I get to spill out some Mommy advice, too. It’s like a two-for-one visit, isn’t it? Makes the travel time worth it.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
“Oh, honey, I’m kidding. What’s wrong? What’s the matter with this boy?”
“Nothing. He’s absolutely perfect. He’s smart and nice and totally right for me. Only there’s another guy…” I shook my head. “It’s stupid. I’m being an idiot. I just need a little time to think things over. That’s all.”
“Well,” Mom said, standing up. “Just remember to do what makes you happy, okay? Don’t lie to yourself because you think it’s safer. Reality doesn’t work like that…. I think I told you that before.”
She had.
But I’d been ru
“Though,” Mom continued. “I brought you a little something for your date, and it might help you out while you’re thinking everything over.”
I watched with mild horror as she pulled a pink-and-yellow box from her handbag. Any object that came wrapped in those colors couldn’t be a good thing. “What is it?” I asked as she placed the box in my outstretched hand.