Ugly Beautiful Girl Read online

  “That was a bad ass yawn for only having been here one or two nights. Did you hit up any of the parties last night?”

  I stare at this girl, trying to place her in my mind. For the life of me, I can’t figure out who this redhead is, or even if I should know who she is.

  “I’m sorry. How rude of me. The name is Janna.” She extends her hand, and I shake it.

  “Violet.”

  “Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Violet Beauregarde.”

  “Who?”

  “Do you seriously not know who that is? The girl with the bubblegum? The real snotty one who wants all the candy?”

  I picture the movie, the girl ballooning up and floating away. In all my life no one has ever compared me to her, and now that Janna has, I admit I am a little surprised.

  “Maybe one day we’ll have a viewing of the movie and you can see who your namesake is.”

  My namesake is my great-grandmother, not some character from a movie. But apparently, we’ve established I’ll be having a movie night with this Janna girl.

  “You’re not very talkative.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted.” Not to mention I just met this woman. I’m not the most outgoing person, though that’s something about myself I’d love to change over the next year. Outgoing people radiate confidence. At least that’s how I see them.

  “Well, that’s fine. What dorm are you in?”

  “Triangle Square.”

  “Oh, do you know Olivia Fisher?”

  “My roommate’s name is Olivia, but I’m not sure if it’s the same person. She never told me her last name.”

  “Tall girl with blonde hair? The bitch to take on all bitches? Yeah, same person. She and I went to high school together. She’s not the nicest person in the world, but her brother Jesse is nice, and he’s a hottie. Have you met him?”

  I nod, recalling that long hair and amazing eyes.

  “He’s super nice. You wouldn’t know they’re from the same family. Speaking of, there he is.”

  I shoot my head around to take a look, and he’s standing over by the cookies, where I would be if Janna hadn’t stopped me.

  “Jesse! Woo hoo, Jesse! Over here!”

  I duck down so Jesse doesn’t see me, though I’m certain he doesn’t even remember who I am. He waves back to Janna, a wide smile across his face. His hair is back in a ponytail, unlike yesterday when it fell just beneath his shoulders. My heart races as he jogs toward us. Would it be rude if I walked away? It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I only don’t want to make a fool of myself. Before I have time to plan an escape route, Jesse is standing in front of us.

  “Hey, Janna.” He looks over at me, those eyes inviting me into his soul. “Hi, Violet. You made it through the orientation speech, huh?”

  I can’t believe he remembers my name. That’s not something that happens often. He’s staring straight at me, awaiting a reply. My mind blanks out, and all I can think about is the first time I met him. His eyes have captured me, taking me hostage, and I don’t want to escape. I could stare at him forever.

  “Yeah. Barely.” I can’t believe I’ve managed to speak. “What are you doing here? Does Olivia need something moved?” I cover my mouth once I realize what I’ve said. I glance around to make sure Olivia isn’t near me. I don’t need another reason for her to dislike me, even though my breathing seems to be enough for her.

  “Do you hear this girl?” Janna thumbs over to me. “I think I’m going to like her.”

  “Yeah,” Jesse agrees as his gaze remains upon me. A crease forms around his lips as he smiles. “Me, too.”

  I clutch my cell phone in my hand, turning the vibrate button on and off. I offer a short laugh as I reply, waiting for the conversation to move forward and out of this awkward moment. Am I supposed to say something here?

  “I’m one of the tour guides. No one else seems to be interested in me. Would you two like to join me?” Jesse breaks the silence between us.

  “Yeah.” Janna answers for both of us. Seeing as I know nobody I might as well take Janna and Jesse up on the offer, and I agree to go with them.

  Janna and I pick up our schedules and follow Jesse to our first stop. He leads us through multiple buildings, and I wonder how I’ll ever make it to all of my classes on time. Whoever put together the schedules must like to mess with people. I’ll need either a bike or Inspector Gadget shoes to get to where I need to be every day.

  “So what are each of you studying?”

  “Art.” Janna sings as we make our way to the library. “One day I’ll be a famous artist. When I die, people will write about me, and you better hope you have all my paintings. They’ll make you rich!”

  I admire her self-confidence and wish I had the same. Can you order that somewhere? A perk with Amazon Prime? Amazon Confidence, maybe, delivered within two days? Janna seems to know where her talent lies and isn’t afraid to express it. My only talent, besides hiding from uncomfortable situations, is my poetry. I write every single day, my heart bleeding from pen to paper. But you can’t make a living writing poems. At least that’s what my parents tell me.

  “What about you, Violet? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  Jesse nudges my elbow. His touch, though brief, sends shivers through me. The last time a boy touched me was when a kid bumped into me at the grocery store. I nudge him back, quickly lowering my arms. Why did I do that? He wasn’t playfully rubbing against me, though that wouldn’t be the worst if he did.

  “I’m focusing on a business degree. Nothing too exciting.”

  “Then why do it?” Janna jumps up and hits a leaf on a tree as we walk by. “Why waste your time? Life’s too short to spend on something you don’t like.”

  “My parents. They had me apply for a ton of scholarships. I snagged a few. They told me a business degree will open doors to a lot of things.”

  “But you don’t want a degree in business?” Janna scratches her head, curling her lip up.

  “No. I mean, I do. If I can’t write poetry, I guess this will do.” What choice do I really have? I want to go to college, and since my parents are footing part of the bill, I can’t really be picky about what I major in.

  “Poetry, that’s cool.” Jesse leads us back to the cafeteria, and I head straight for the cookies, snatching a chocolate chip off the plate.

  “Mmm.” Chewy cookies are the best. No crumbs and the chocolate melts in your mouth. “What about you?” I brave it and ask Jesse. “What are you majoring in?”

  “Hacking.”

  “Hacking?” Janna and I respond together.

  “Okay, not hacking. Computer shit. Maybe one day I’ll work for the FBI or something like that. I think that’d be cool.”

  That sounds pretty amazing. I’m not sure I could work for the government, be under such scrutiny and be so secretive all the time. But maybe for an introvert like me, it would be a good choice. Business is, too. I can probably find a job that doesn’t require me to interact with too many people. As long as it brings in a paycheck, that’s what matters.

  “Maybe you could spy on my ex-boyfriend Tyler Gilmore. That asshat cheated on me with Erin Krueger.” She snags a cookie and shoves the entire thing in her mouth. “Talk about the worst graduation gift ever.”

  “I heard about that.” Jesse chimes in. “What a dick. But as much as I’d love to spy on your ex, I don’t think that’s something I’m supposed to do. Not to mention I still have a year left of school and I don’t have a job yet.”

  A senior, which puts him at just over twenty-one, and much more experienced than I am. In a lot of things. I blush thinking about all of the things. I can imagine him at the computer, his hands sliding across the keyboard, maybe a pair of computer glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hair is pulled back with a few strands falling out against his cheek. I’m distracting myself, which can only lead to me saying something embarrassing, so I push his chiseled body image out of my mind.

  “An
yway, ladies, I must be on my way. I see a group of students over there that look as though they’re lost. Check you later, okay?”

  He races off before either of us can respond. I don’t know what I would have said, anyway. I’m glad he took us on the tour, though. Even having only met him the one time, it made it a lot more comfortable.

  “He’s so nice.” Janna takes another cookie and hands one to me as well. “He’s so out of my league, though. Hell, he’s out of most people’s leagues.”

  Everyone is out of my league. Between my Pinnochio nose, planet-sized ass, and the scars left behind from the great pimple outbreak of 2015, I’m far down in the lineup for anyone to date. I accepted that a long time ago. After being called a dog more times than I can count, I finally made the decision that maybe everyone is right. I’m not pretty and never will be. The more and more someone refers to you as something, the more likely you are to believe it.

  “How is he so nice and his sister is such a jerk?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so different from one another before. His first impression is the complete opposite from Olivia’s.

  Janna begins walking so I step in line with her. “Who knows? They were both super popular in school but for different reasons. Her reasons are more X-rated if you catch my drift.”

  Sex tape? Pictures online? Favors in the bathroom? I want to know but I also don’t want to gossip about Olivia. I don’t like when people say stuff about me so I don’t want to do it to her. Besides, things like that tend to come back around. I don’t want it to bite me in the ass.

  “So this Tyler guy, was he your boyfriend throughout high school?”

  “Nah. We dated senior year. That was it. I had one other boyfriend, Grant, freshman and sophomore year. I took junior year off of guys, I guess. Who knows?” She shrugs. “Sometimes I think about quitting guys all together.”

  “Like dating girls instead?”

  “Maybe. Or not dating at all. I’ll graduate, collect two dozen cats, and call it a life.”

  She can’t be serious. I would kill to look like her. Okay, maybe not kill, but I could do some damage if needed. I doubt she has had any experience with being called names, and she’s had two boyfriends to my zero. I picture her strutting down her high school hallway sans book bag—she’s too cool for one. Her books are snug against her hip as she works her way down the hall as everyone glances her way. No. She can’t become a cat lady. If anyone should surrender her life to cats it’s me, and even I won’t do that.

  “What about you? Do you have a special man in your life?”

  Does my dad count? Probably not what she means. I almost kissed Shawn Solender once in sixth grade but that turned out to be a joke. Another time as a freshman I was supposed to go to Homecoming with Chris Henderson. I sat on the front steps of my house for three hours before I finally admitted to myself he wasn’t coming. On Monday at school everyone made fun of me and pictures were posted all over Instagram. Someone had stopped by and snapped as many shots of me crying as they could. The hashtags were horrible, things such as #loser, #whowoulddateher, #dogface, #dogbreath, #nobody. They got pretty negative, pushed me down to a point I almost didn’t want to get back up, but I did. I keep telling myself they are only words, no matter how much they hurt.

  The change begins with me, right? If I’m going to create a better life for myself, I have to be confident. “No. There are a few guys who want to date me, but since I’m here I want to play the field.” I’m sure she sees right through me, and if she does, she doesn’t let on.

  “Us hotties have to stick together and stay single.”

  Hotties? She’s speaking of herself, not me. I appreciate the gesture, trying to include me in a clique I will never be part of. I’ve been through it long enough. I know the truth.

  I’m the ugly girl in the room. I always have been and always will be.

  Chapter Three

  Shell

  What is this shell around me,

  this protective layer to shield me from the pain?

  But even this hard exterior can’t protect me.

  The words penetrate through and hurt me anyway.

  I tell myself I want to change.

  I want to be bold, unafraid, and accept who I am.

  What they’ve said has scratched more than the surface,

  and I’m bleeding.

  I’ll never be free.

  ^^^

  Bells wrapped around the door shake as I swing it open. I enter the campus store and move to my left toward the notebooks. My latest notebook is already filled and I need to replace it. I pass by the candy and soda, as much as I can use both, and stand in front of college-ruled, wide-ruled, and composition style notebooks. I prefer the spiral bound because it’s easier to flip over to a new page and nestle it in my lap as I write. I’m trying new things, though, right? So I should opt for the composition style. And I do. I grab a purple and white flecked notebook off the shelf and turn to go back to the checkout. As I pass the junk food again, I give into my craving and snag a twelve-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew and a bag of Sour Patch Kids.

  “Planning on being up all night?”

  Jesse stands behind the counter, his hair pulled back in a pony tail, slicked back with every strand in place. A smile beams across his face. I place my items on the counter.

  “You work here?”

  He pulls at the name tag on his shirt. “Oh! Is that what this tag is for? Why I guess I do work here.”

  I lean against the counter and when I do, I can smell him. Something about his scent relaxes me. “Why are you so sarcastic all the time?”

  “Why are you so serious all the time?”

  “Fair enough.” Sarcasm has never been something I’ve excelled in. I prefer it straight forward, no strings attached. Just tell me like it is. Jesse wears sarcasm well, though, and he makes me smile.

  “So, are you anticipating a late night?”

  “It’s only three o’clock.”

  “Yes, but with that soda and candy, you’ll be on quite the sugar high.”

  “This?” I pick up the Sour Patch Kids and toss them back onto the counter. “Trust me. This and a small Mountain Dew will not keep me up. This is my dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes, dinner. I’m writing and plan on locking myself in my room all night. Well, not all night, but through dinner. I’ll probably head to bed around nine.”

  “Nine?” He cracks a laugh. “Nine?” He follows this up with a hearty laugh.

  “Yes, nine. Not all of us can stay up all hours of the night. Or want to stay up for that matter.” Night owl I am not. It’s not like me at all to make it much past ten. I need my sleep. Besides, the sooner I am asleep, the longer I can avoid Olivia.

  “Not me. I don’t need sleep.”

  “Everyone needs sleep.”

  “Not me.” He pulls at the hem of his shirt and it tightens against his chest. His muscles…so many muscles.

  “Are you saying you don’t sleep at all? Are you like a zombie or a vampire or something?”

  “Vampires sleep. Didn’t you read Twilight?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny that.” For the record, I did, and I also enjoyed it. Can you honestly tell me dark and brooding Edward isn’t handsome? Besides, Bella was an outsider, different from everyone. I can relate to that. I like books I can relate to. “Wait. Did you?” How does he know about vampires and Twilight unless he read the book or saw the movies?

  His eyes sparkle and he smiles widely. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I did. And I’ve seen all the movies.” He holds two fingers up. “Twice.”

  I don’t tell him I have, too. And not twice. More than twice. Over three times. Probably too many times. “Interesting.” I nod as I smile.

  “Haven’t you seen them?”

  “Again, I’m not saying.”

  “Why? I admitted I like the series. Me. A dude. All women like Twilight. That and Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  “You sur
e know how to clump us all into a group of vampire-BDSM-loving Mountain Dew-drinking people.”

  “You added the Mountain Dew.”

  I did. Does that mean I’ve admitted to my guilty pleasure? Do I want him to know I pig out on junk food and binge watch Twilight? I’ve worn out my copies of the books, the pages curled, the cover showing signs of wear. I don’t know why I can’t seem to admit this to him. I think I like keeping him guessing.

  I hold my hand over my heart. “I fully admit to drinking Mountain Dew. In fact, I drink it so much, I probably should be their paid spokesperson. That is all that I, Violet Duncan, will admit to.”

  He slides his elbows against the counter and pushes his fist into his face as he sighs. “I don’t know why you won’t take ownership that you love Twilight. Are you an Edward or a Jacob fan?” He stands up straight and crosses his arms, moving from around the counter. Before I know it he’s standing next to me, and I can feel his breath on my face. He’s interrogating me.

  “Tell me, Violet, what class does Bella have second period? Alice stole a car in Italy. What kind was it? What did Jacob give Bella for graduation? How does Bella describe the smell of blood?”

  He circles me, asking me more and more questions, deeper into the saga each time. He’s trying to crack me, and I wonder if he can hear my heart racing as he asks more. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I’m thankful for my long hair so he can’t see it. He will not win this one. I’ve got this.

  “You’re really not going to admit it, are you?” He makes his way back to his post behind the counter. “Here,” he pulls a sheet of paper out from under the counter. “Write down how many times you’ve read the series.”

  He’s not giving this up. I kind of love it. He knows the truth. He realizes I’ve seen it, read it, memorized it, yet he’s making it seem like he doesn’t know. Like he wants me to tell him. He’s so spectacular and sarcastic and fun. I take the pen from his hand and think about this. I promised myself a fresh start. There have only been two times I’ve spoken with Jesse, but he hasn’t shied away from me or insulted me. Here’s my opportunity. I can’t let it slip away.