Duckling Ugly

'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 Leon. 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 Leon. 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 Leon 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 Leon. 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 Leon.

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 good­bye, 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 Leon, 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 percent 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.