Duckling Ugly

by Neal Shusterman

“Sit here!”

  “No, sit here, he smells!”

  “I’ve got lots of room for you on the end!”

  “Don’t listen to those idiots, you can sit wherever you want. As long as it’s next to me!”

  I smiled, and didn’t accept any of their invitations. I knew just how to play this. “Someone told me one of you boys knows something about computers?”

  And all of a sudden all five boys at the table were computer experts. I knew for a fact at least three of them weren’t, but that didn’t stop them from practically climbing all over one another to impress me with their know-how.

  I didn’t know all that much about computers, but I knew enough to be able to weed out the poseurs.

  “Good,” I said, “because I need to find a way to install a thirty-two-bit sound card in a sixteen-bit slot.”

  Sudden silence from four of the five. But Gerardo perked up.

  “It sounds like you need to upgrade your motherboard. I could do that for you.”

  I put out my hand and smiled at him.

  “Hi, I’m Linda.”

  “Gerardo,” he said, shaking my hand. “I was a friend of your cousin’s.”

  For a second it caught me by surprise. Then I realized, in a high school, news traveled at the speed of pheromones. Probably every boy in school heard that I was a DeFido. Of course, they didn’t know which DeFido I was.

  “Gerardo…” I said, pretending to think about his name. “I think Cara talked about you.”

  “She did?”

  “She was in love with him,” said one of the other boys.

  Gerardo shrugged. “We were just friends.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she said. She said you were dating Nikki somebody.”

  “Ah,” said Gerardo, “that was months ago.”

  I looked down at my plate, then picked up my brownie and put it on Gerardo’s plate, like I used to do back in the ugly days.

  He looked a little creeped out for a second. “Just how much did Cara talk about me?”

  I didn’t answer him; I just gave him a wink. “Have a nice lunch.” Then I stood up and left with the grace of a swan.

  There’s this expression. I think it’s French. Femme fatale. It means “deadly woman,” but really means more than that. It means a woman so beautiful, she can twist the world around her finger.

  That was me now, and until today, I had no idea how much fun twisting could be. The problem was, I only had today to do it, and it frustrated me. I wanted to take on this school like a tornado, and leave people quivering in my wake—but with only one day, I’d be little more than a passing breeze. I was already trying to figure ways to stretch out my visit—if only for a few more hours.

  I knew Marisol had started spreading nasty rumors about me. Marshall was already preening to get my attention, and when I waved to Gerardo in the hall a little bit later in the day, he walked right into a locker. Femme fatale. In a way, it was so much more satisfying than just being one of the beautiful people in De León.

  By the end of the day, Marshall had already asked me on a date, and I’d accepted—mainly because I knew once Marisol found out, she’d gnaw her own limbs off. Unfortunately, the date was for Saturday, so I wouldn’t be able to follow through. It burned me that Marisol would have the satisfaction of my permanent disappearance.

  Gerardo wasted no time, either. He showed up at my house right after school.

  “Hi, is Linda home?”

  “Who?” said my idiot brother, who had answered the door. “Oh. Linda, right. Yeah, she’s here.”

  I ducked into my room and tried to get the sudden flush to leave my face. I didn’t even think he knew where I lived. When I stepped out, I had the poise and presence of a movie star.

  “Gerardo,” I said. “How nice to see you!”

  “Hi. I came over to fix that computer problem you were having.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He held up a bag of cables and components. “Your motherboard?”

  “Oh. Oh, right.” The thing is, I didn’t even have a computer. “Well, that’s all right. We sent it to the shop already. But thank you.”

  He looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay. Well. Bye.”

  He turned to leave, but I put my hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

  “Would you like a drink?” I said.

  He smiled. “Sure.”

  I figure he would have said “sure” to whatever I offered him. He wanted to stay as much as I wanted him to.

  I got him some pop from the fridge. We sat there for a long time, just sipping, and trying to burp up the bubbles quietly enough so the other wouldn’t hear.

  “So,” he finally said.

  “So,” I said back to him.

  He looked at me and looked away, then looked back at me again. “Why don’t you give me your number? Maybe I’ll call you or something.”

  “My cell phone, you mean? I don’t have one.”

  “Okay, then give me your home number.”

  I thought it was an odd request because he already knew the number here. But then, maybe by asking for my number he was testing the waters, to see where he stood. If I gave him the number, it meant it was all right for him to call me—and that was one step short of asking me out. I wished he would have done it right then and there, but when it came to girls, I guess Gerardo wasn’t quite as pushy as Marshall. I smiled at him, grabbed a pen and paper from the counter, happily wrote down the number, and handed it to him.

  He looked at it closely. “Hmm. Right.” Then folded it and put it in his pocket. “Well, see you in school, Linda.”

  He left, and the second he was gone, I went into my room and did a little victory dance. And then I remembered, if he did work up enough nerve to call me for a date, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be back in De León. I flopped on my bed, cursing the unfairness of it all. If I could have just one date with Gerardo, just one, I could leave this place forever and be happy, couldn’t I? But that wasn’t going to happen.

  That night, as I tossed and turned in bed, a war began in my mind. On one side were Aaron and Harmony and Abuelo—all the people of De León. I was truly one of them. I felt accepted, I belonged—I truly did miss Aaron—and besides, I had made him a promise that I’d be back in five days.

  But there was that other side. The side that said, What’s a few more days gonna hurt? Finish what you started. Get your revenge on Marshall and Marisol. Have that one night out with Gerardo. Twist them all around your finger until you’re satisfied. And then you can go back to De León forever.

  The war raged inside me, and with the hours counting down until I had to leave to meet my deadline, I had no idea which side was going to win.

  I woke up the next morning and found myself standing in the corner, facing northwest. I had sleepwalked again. I was still drawn to De León. It was time to say that final good-bye and begin my journey back.

  When I turned around, I saw Vance standing at my door, watching me. He didn’t wisecrack, he just watched me. He seemed almost afraid to come in.

  “The place you went,” he said. “It’s in that direction, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. First I was pleased that he had figured it out, then I got worried.

  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  He didn’t answer me. “Are you going back?”

  “Yes,” I told him.

  “Good.”

  Then he walked off. He would never understand—and neither would anyone else. That’s why I had to get back to De León.

  But did I have to leave right then? I could stay for part of the day, couldn’t I? If I left after school, and came home to say good-bye, I could get a ride to the old billboard before dark. If I had a bright enough flashlight, I could walk through the night and shorten the two-day trek a bit. I still might be a little bit late in getting back to De León, but at least I’d get there.

  I looked at the mirror above my dresser, studying my face. Right away I could see that I wasn’t a hundred per
cent this morning. It was just bed hair, and the kind of droopy eyes and dark circles you have when you first wake up—but ever since washing in the fountain, I had never had messy hair or droopy eyes in the morning. I always woke up like they do on TV—looking perfect. It wasn’t a big deal at all, but it bothered me…so I took a deep breath and shook my head so that my hair flung to the left and right.

  And the strangest thing happened. My hair fell into perfect place—the rings under my eyes faded—and I swear to you, for the briefest instant, it was as if the sunlight in the room dimmed, and the colors on the wallpaper faded just the tiniest bit.

  I decided it was just my imagination, but deep down, I knew that it wasn’t.

  The big news at school was that Marshall and Marisol had broken up last night. From what I heard, Marshall just couldn’t keep himself from bragging about our upcoming date to his friends. It got back to Marisol. Word was they had a breakup so vicious, somebody should have called Animal Control. It happened at the bowling alley. Marisol confronted him, so he accused her of sneaking around with other boys. She chased him down lane twelve with a bowling ball, he slipped, went flying into the pins, and got himself a strike. Now he had a bruise on his forehead from where the automatic pinsetter kept coming down, trying to pick him up.

  That should have been all the victory I needed, but I was now like a shark after smelling blood.

  Marisol followed me before class started. She was trying to keep me from seeing her, but I knew she was there, so when the bell rang, I ducked into the girls’ bathroom, knowing she would follow. Let her think she had cornered me.

  Sure enough, she came in about ten seconds later. It was just the two of us in there, and Marisol had a look in her eyes that was as murderous as any I’d ever seen.

  “Good morning, Marisol,” I said brightly. “Having yourself a good day?”

  Her hair was unkempt, a little straggly, like she hadn’t been using her salon-approved conditioner. I guess she had more things to worry about now than just her hair.

  “You listen and you listen good,” said Marisol. “I know you are not who you say you are, ’cause I’ve been checking with folks I know, and there’s no Linda DeFido from Billington High.”

  I calmly dipped my hands under the faucet and washed my face. Was that a zit I saw trying to come through on my left cheek? No—it couldn’t be.

  “You’re right, Marisol,” I told her.

  “So you had better tell me who you really are.”

  I smiled and took my time. “Don’t you know? I’m the girl who just stole away your boyfriend and made a fool out of you. Your reign as the queen of Flock’s Rest High is over.”

  Then the fury in Marisol’s eyes took a strange turn. “You know,” she said, “we don’t have to be enemies.” It was the same expression she had on that day in seventh grade when she had asked me to take the fall for her cheating ways. “People don’t understand girls like us,” Marisol said. “Not really. Why spend all our time tearing each other down when we could share everything?”

  “I don’t share anything with you, and I never will.” I started to move toward her slowly, and she backed away until she hit the tile wall. She was still angry, yes, but fear was taking over.

  “You still don’t recognize me, do you? Maybe because you never really looked at me.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Marisol.

  “You don’t? Well, let me spell it out for you. G-R-O-T-E-S-Q-U-E.”

  And I saw in her eyes the moment she figured it out.

  “No! It’s impossible…Cara?”

  Her face began to stretch in horror and disbelief. I took another step closer.

  “A-B-O-M-I-N-A-B-L-E.”

  She couldn’t speak now. Her throat had closed up; she could barely breathe.

  I grabbed her by her pretty little sweater, pushing her hard against the wall. And that’s when things, as strange as they were, went to a whole new level, as I spelled one more word for her, looking her dead in the eyes.

  “M—”

  The color of her eyes went from bright blue to a muddy gray.

  “O—”

  Acne began to rupture forth from her skin like the earth pushing up mountains.

  “N—”

  Her earlobes drooped, and one whole ear started to sink lower than the other.

  “S—”

  Her strawberry blond hair with the pretty highlights lost its sheen and started to tangle.

  “T—”

  Her pouty little lips drooped and cracked.

  “E—”

  Her teeth began to fade to a sickly shade of gray.

  “R!”

  I let go of her, and stepped back to look at her transformation. I should have been horrified, but all I could feel was satisfaction as deep as the Caldero cavern.

  “My, my, Marisol—you’re as ugly as…roadkill!”

  Marisol reached up, feeling the change as she touched her face, and she screamed. “What did you do?” she wailed. “What did you do to me?!” Even her voice had changed. It was the raspy screech of a hag.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror, but only for an instant before the mirror shattered. Then she ran into a stall to hide, sobbing, as if it was the end of the world.

  I stepped gently over the broken glass, feeling it crackle beneath the soles of my shoes, and I picked up a mirror shard from the ground, catching a bit of my own reflection in it.

  There was no zit on my cheek—not even a red spot. I must have been wrong. My complexion was creamy pure.

  I was filled with absolute contentment as I strode out of that restroom. That was the moment I knew that I wasn’t going back to De León. Not tonight, not tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. No matter what I had promised—no matter how much I would miss Aaron, what I had now in Flock’s Rest was worth the cost.

  Harmony had been wrong. She said there would be no place for me in my old life, but I now knew otherwise. In De León, I was one face in a crowd of beautiful people, but here I was the star. And I was going to enjoy it.

  20

  Uglifications

  Sometimes you make decisions that you know are wrong, but you make them anyway. When you’re a little kid you think, Should I hit my brother and make him cry, even though I know I’m going to get in trouble for it? But the force of your will wrestles down the sense in your head and you do it anyway.

  When you get older, the situations aren’t quite as simple, and although you tend to have more sense, you tend to be more willful as well. Sometimes that sense wins out, and other times you set yourself up for a world of suffering.

  My parents seemed happy that I had chosen to stay, although I think they, like Vance, would have been relieved if I didn’t. It wasn’t so hard making the transition to being Linda DeFido. My father knew a guy who knew a guy who could make all the computers in the world believe you were Marilyn Monroe, if that’s what you wanted. He even managed to get fictional records transferred over from Billington High, with grades not quite as high as my real ones. Like that mattered now.

  As for what happened to Marisol, I didn’t understand at the time how I had “uglified” her. I thought that maybe it was like Miss Leticia had once said: Spells and spelling weren’t all that different—maybe I had a little bit of witch in me after all. Maybe the fountain had brought it out.

  She stayed in that bathroom stall all day long. The counselor couldn’t get her out. The principal couldn’t get her out. In the end, her parents came and her daddy kicked the door open.

  I wasn’t there to see the commotion when they saw what she looked like. All I know is they rushed her off to the hospital. The rumor was that she had come down with some rare disfiguring disease, like acute leprosy or something.

  I had my date with Marshall that Saturday. He talked about himself, bragging mostly. I made up stuff about my fictional life as Linda DeFido.

  He walked me home, his arm around my shoulder.

  “I’d like to spend mo
re time with you,” he said. “Marisol wasn’t right for me. I mean, I feel bad about her getting sick and all, but, hey, I’ve got my own life, right?”

  He smiled at me. There was a gentle look in his eyes. Was Marshall Astor falling in love with me? I wondered. How deeply would he have to fall until I could effectively break his heart? I thought about that painful night at the homecoming dance. True, a lot of what had happened was my own fault, but I still couldn’t wait to make him feel as miserable as I had felt when I ran out that night. Maybe then he’d have a glimpse of what it had been like to be me.

  “Sure, Marshall,” I said, gently rubbing his arm. “I’d like to see you again.”

  The moment became awkward, and he looked off—and pointed at the window boxes. The ones that held my mom’s marigolds.

  “Someone oughta water those,” he said.

  I looked at them. They had completely lost their petals. They were all stem and seedpod—twisted leggy things with little round black heads.

  “I guess everything around here can’t be as beautiful as you,” Marshall said. Then he left me at my front door with a kiss that didn’t make him puke.

  “Was that Marshall Astor?” Momma asked as I stepped in.

  “Yes. And Dad didn’t even have to give him a free car to go out with me.”

  Dad grumbled from his spot on the sofa.

  “First that boy Gerardo…and now Marshall,” Momma said. “Exactly which one are you dating?”

  “Both of them,” I told her. “Any of them. All of them.” And why not? I could date as many boys as I wanted. I’d earned that right. And if me seeing Marshall would make Gerardo jealous, all the better.

  “Oh, by the way,” I told Momma, “you need to replace your marigolds.”

  She wrinkled her brows. “Replace them? Why? They were fine this morning.”

  Gerardo never called me. Even though he had my number—even though I made it clear that I wanted him to call, he never did. It was just plain frustrating. Marshall asked me out again, though—and so I agreed to go to the movies with him, if for no other reason than to spite Gerardo.

  At the movie, Marshall held me a little too close, tried to go a little too far, and I slapped him a little too hard. After that, he acted like a scolded puppy for the rest of the night.