Duckling Ugly

I sat in my room, in front of the sheet-covered mirror, won­dering what I looked like, playing the game again, reaching up to tear down the sheet, only to pull my hand back like a coward.

'You look positively'?Momma grappled for the word?'fetching,' she said.

Vance peeked in and laughed. 'Yeah, as in 'Here, Rover, go fetch!''

I threw a curler at him.

'You don't listen to him,' Momma said. She kissed me and did what last-minute triage she could on my hopeless hair.

The doorbell rang, and Dad answered it. It was Marshall, all dressed up in a suit he had already grown out of. He didn't look all too happy, but he didn't look all that miserable, either.

He shook my dad's hand.

'You make sure my daughter has a good time tonight,' he said, with a sternness in his voice I rarely heard.

'Yes, sir,' said Marshall.

He looked at me. I was afraid he was going to burst out laugh­ing. But instead he said, 'That's a pretty dress you got on, Cara.'

Momma nudged my shoulder. 'Thank the boy, dear.'

'Thanks,' I said.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was a little bit excited?and fearful, too?but I was walking into this with my eyes open. If Marisol, Marshall, or whoever had something awful planned for me, they would not get the satisfaction, because whatever it was, I would throw it back in their faces.

Out front, Marshall had himself a car. Nothing fancy, mind you. Just an old Chevy that had passed hands maybe two or three times before landing with him.

'Nice make-out car,' I said to Marshall with a smirk. 'Don't get any ideas. I'm not that kind of girl.'

He rolled his eyes. 'Don't worry. You're safe.'

'Am I?' I said. 'How about when we get there? How safe will I be then?'

He started the car and laughed. 'You still think we're pulling some prank on you, huh? I told you, it's nothing like that.'

'So then what's tonight about?' I asked.

'It's about going to a dance, having a good time, and taking you home. And then driving away.'

'And then what?'

A frightened expression came over his face. 'What do you mean, ''then what?''

'What happens then? You gonna take me to other parties? Or is this like the lottery, one date with Marshall Astor.'

He thought for a moment and then said, 'Just enjoy tonight. We'll let tomorrow take care of itself.'

When we got there, the party was in full swing. Couples danc­ing. The shy ones standing on the sidelines.

It wasn't until I saw Marisol that I knew Marshall had been telling the truth. That bitter-sour look on her face when she saw us made it clear to me she'd had no part in this, and wanted no part of it, either. For the rest of the night, she tried to avoid us and bus­ied herself with her friends and dancing with dateless boys. I, of course, did everything I could to be in her line of sight as often as possible. I even made a point of running into her in the bathroom.

'Isn't this one of the signs that the world is about to end?' I said to her.

'Excuse me?'

'You know?hell freezes over, rivers turn to blood, and Marisol doesn't have a date?'

She bristled like a porcupine, then tossed it off with a flick of her perfect hair. 'Poor Marshall,' she said. 'After tonight, I'll need to disinfect him.' Then she strutted out?but stumbled clumsily on her high heels, clinching this as the high point of my evening.

Marshall, to my amazement, was a perfect gentleman. He danced with nobody but me all night! Even the slow dances, with his hands around my waist.

First it felt so strange, so awkward. I had never been that close to a boy. Every time we took a break from dancing, he got me some punch. He treated me with the respect I didn't think he could give anyone, and I dared to start thinking that maybe I had misjudged him. Maybe, as bad as he was, there was a good side trying to come through.

Don't you believe it, Cara, a voice in my head told me, but I was starting to enjoy myself too much to pay it any mind.

It could have been the perfect evening?in fact, it would have been, if it hadn't been for one thing.

Gerardo Sanchez.

An hour into the party, Gerardo arrived with Nikki Smith clinging to him like kudzu, and he was clinging right back. They were a couple, I knew that in theory?but actually seeing it with my own eyes was too much to take. It set my blood on a long, slow boil, and not even the sight of Marisol on the sidelines with­out a dance partner could make me feel better.

Each time Marshall and I danced, they were both there danc­ing, too.

I caught Gerardo's eye, but he didn't acknowledge me. Maybe he was too ashamed or embarrassed by his confession. Maybe he was just freaked that I was there with Marshall.

The thing is, even though I had the best-looking boy in front of me, teaching me dance moves, getting me punch, treating me like I wasn't the Flock's Rest Monster, I knew he wasn't the one I wanted. No matter what Gerardo had done that day at the spelling bee, it was him that I wanted to be holding me in those slow dances, with those clumsy hands and those skinny arms.

But those skinny arms were wrapped around Nikki, and I be­gan to hate her like I hated Marisol.

The boiling in my blood started making its way to my brain, and I started doing some crazy things.

I watched Gerardo and Nikki dance, so I danced harder with Marshall. I watched how close they danced in the slow numbers, and I pulled Marshall that close to me whether he liked it or not.

'Uh, Cara, I think we should sit this one out,' Marshall said.

'No,' I told him. 'You said we're gonna have a good time, and I say I want to dance.'

I half expected him to storm away, but he didn't.

Then, as the night got later, and all the dances started to be­come slow, the jealous vein throbbing through my body just hem­orrhaged, until it was all I could feel.

And that's when I saw it.

I saw Gerardo look into Nikki's eyes, and pull her into that perfect embrace in the middle of a slow song. They kissed, and kissed, and didn't stop.

I looked to Marshall. He looked at me with some kind of ter­ror in his eyes, but I didn't care. I grabbed him by the tie, pulled him toward me, and planted a kiss on him, the likes of which he will never forget.

With all of his jock strength, he could not pull away. I had him locked in that kiss like a boot on a car tire?and the couples around us pulled back until we were there, standing by ourselves. His arms, which had at first been struggling, were now limp, weak, like a rag doll.

That'll show him, I said to myself. That'll show Gerardo. He can have Nikki, but look at me. I've got Marshall Astor!

Finally, I let Marshall go, and he stepped away, catching his breath. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish that had flipped out of its bowl.

'Uuugggghhhh!'

He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth, wiped his lips, and didn't stop there. He practically put his whole hand in his mouth, rubbing at his gums and teeth, as if he could just pull the kiss out. And when he realized that the kiss just wasn't going away, he started to go a little bit pale.

'Forget this,' he said. His eyes were locked on me, and the expression of horror and helplessness on his face made me, for the first time, truly feel like the monster they said I was.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and hurled them at me. They hit my dress and jangled to the ground.

'Nothing is worth this,' he said. 'Tell your father he can keep his car! I don't want it!' His face started to pass through several shades of green. His cheeks swelled.