Page 2 of Ugly Duckling (Content Advisory #6)

Life is what happens when your cell phone is charging.

—Sutton’s dad to Sutton

SUTTON

Age fifteen

“You’re beautiful, baby.”

I looked at my mother and knew that she was lying.

I wasn’t beautiful.

I was hideous.

She didn’t have to lie.

I had a great body—that was really all I had going for me.

Tits and ass, abs and long legs that could win me any race that I wanted.

I was the most sought-after athlete in the school, yet still the most bullied person, as well.

The last comment I’d heard before leaving school today had come from a girl in track who’d gotten smoked by me during practice.

Too bad she’s so damn ugly. Her and Gunner could be the power couple of the century. But Gunner’s way too good looking for her.

Ugh.

Gunner Lewiston.

He was the yin to my yang in the sports world at our school.

Gunner was the king of our high school.

Our freshman year, like me, he made every senior sports team that he tried out for.

Unlike me, he was God’s gift.

He was so damn pretty.

He had curly hair that fell in decorative ringlets all around his face. Blond curls that blew around his face and always bounced back into place. He was tall, well over six feet two inches at age sixteen.

He played varsity soccer, football, and basketball. But where he really shone was on the baseball field.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would be making it to pro for baseball.

If he wanted it, he’d have it.

“I’m not,” I disagreed with my mom. “I’m hideous. My nose is too big for my face. My eyes look like anime eyes, and they’re fucking boring brown at that. And my face is disproportionate.”

“Honey,” she whispered.

“I know I’m not attractive,” I continued. “I’ve overheard plenty of boys at school say that as long as they paper bagged me, they’d do me. And all of the girls aren’t very quiet about how ugly I am. I know you’re trying to be nice because I’m your kid, but let’s be completely honest here.”

My mom cupped my face in her hands. “Sweetie, just know that it won’t always be like this. You’ll grow into yourself, and someone will want you for who you are as a person.”

Meaning, I’ll probably always be ugly, but some guy might see past the ugly face and eventually marry me for my personality.

I huffed a laugh. “I have to get to school. I love you.”

She kissed me on the cheek and held out my lunch to me.

I took it with barely a grimace and started walking toward the door.

Of course, the first person I ran into on my way into the school was Gunner Lewiston.

He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Suttie.”

I grimaced. “Don’t call me that.”

He grinned. “How are your legs after that run this morning?”

“Sore,” I admitted. “It was a full effort run.”

“That’s why you smoked Rocky.” He laughed.

Rocky was my best friend. She was also second best at everything because of me.

I loved her dearly, and she loved me right back.

But there was no competition.

She was the beauty queen, and I was the ugly best friend.

“She’ll get there,” I lied.

He winked. “Not to where you’re at.”

No, not to where I’m at.

“Have a good day, Gunner,” I called out.

He knew better than wishing the same for me.

We both knew I’d have a shitty one.

SUTTON

Age sixteen

“Ewwww,” I heard said. “Why’d he ask her? God, can you imagine staring into that face all night?”

I stiffened.

Aleah.

But it was the way that Marx, my date for the prom, laughed that had my back going ramrod straight.

I pulled away, my frown ferocious, ready to run.

“I can’t believe you actually got her to go with you,” another boy said from my left side. “I guess you win the bet after all.”

My stomach all but sank to my knees.

“Now that she’s here, pay up, boys!”

I watched as everyone slapped five dollars in his hands, including all the girls now surrounding us.

My belly was roiling by the time that I ran outside.

“Stay in the gym!” I heard yelled behind me.

I wasn’t sure if they were talking to me or not, but I ran out of the gym anyway.

I went directly to the parking lot and stopped because I realized that I’d been stupid and let Marx pick me up.

He’d been so nice all night.

He’d taken me to dinner at Outback.

He’d gotten me a corsage.

He’d smiled for pictures.

And all of it was a damn lie.

I wasn’t crying, though.

What would be the point?

“Suttie?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Gunner walking out to his Jeep.

He was wearing dirty baseball pants, no shirt, and slides over his dirty-socked feet.

“Hey.” I cleared my throat.

“You look beautiful.” He smiled. “Dance tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s the junior prom.”

He frowned. “Who’d you go with?”

I cleared my throat and said, “Marx. But I just found out the only reason he took me was because of a bet with what feels like the entire junior class.”

There was a long moment of silence before Gunner said, “Want a ride home?”

Did I?

“I think I might walk,” I admitted. “If I get home too early, my mom will wonder why I’m there so early. Then I’ll have to explain that I’m only there because my date is an asshole.”

“Then let me take you to eat,” he offered.

“I’m not all that hungry,” I lied.

I hadn’t been able to eat much when we went out to the restaurant earlier.

Marx had a burger and fries.

I’d snacked on a cheeseburger salad.

He grunted. “I just need to go grab all my stuff. Here’s my keys.”

He tossed me his keys, and I caught them despite the growing darkness.

He walked into the gym, slipping his dirty uniform top back on as he went.

I turned and stared at his Jeep.

I’d always liked it.

It was brown with big mud tires.

Not the fanciest on the block because he’d bought it with his own money—he did about twenty lawns every weekend to pay for it—but it was the most badass in the entire parking lot.

I walked to the passenger side and unlocked it, staring at the baby paraphernalia that littered the front seat.

I smiled when I saw the tiny little baseball mitt for his son, Jett.

Jumping into the seat, I moved the little mitt onto my lap and put my seat belt on.

When I was done buckling up, I waited for a solid ten minutes for him to come back outside.

When he did, he was shaking out his hand.

As he got closer, I took in his appearance.

There was blood on his uniform top.

He also had a wad of cash in his hands that had me frowning.

“Rough game?” I asked him when he jumped into the Jeep.

He took the keys from my outstretched hand and started it up.

I watched as his foot moved onto the clutch and he shifted into reverse.

A manual.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to drive a manual,” I mused, not waiting for him to explain about the blood on his shirt. “Was it easy?”

He grinned. “Want to learn?”

I blinked. “Here?”

“Here.” He shrugged.

So that was what I did.

I learned how to drive a manual on the way to Texas Roadhouse where he treated me to rolls galore, chicken fingers, and a baked potato.

We drove to his uncle’s house to pick up Jett.

Then he dropped me off at my place four hours later.

It was the best night in the world, and I was somewhat glad that Marx had fucked me over if that was how I got to spend my night.

Gunner waved as I got to my front porch, hand on the knob.

I waved back, then slipped inside and headed straight up to my room, glad that my parents were out still for the night.

When I got up there, I put my hands into the pockets of the jacket I’d borrowed and burrowed deeper into the smell of Gunner.

It took me a second to figure out that there was something in the pocket that my left hand was touching. Pulling it out, I found a wad of cash and frowned.

There was a note on the first twenty-dollar bill in red Sharpie that said, “Fuck Marx. Fuck the entire junior class. You’re awesome, and you should own it. They’re just jealous because they all suck compared to you. Keep the money. You deserve it after the bullshit they pulled.”

My heart clenched.

God, why did Gunner have to be so nice?

And why did everyone else have to be so mean?

SUTTON

Age eighteen

“And the class valedictorian is Sutton Sway!” Principal Edmonson called out. “Welcome her up here as she gives her speech.”

There were lots of claps from the crowd.

Nearly no one from my class.

Not surprising.

I got up to the microphone and started to talk.

The speech was good.

I knew it was good.

But it was also a silent dig at every single one of my bullies for the last how many ever years.

“I moved here when I was seven,” I said as I looked around.

“I thought that this place was going to be my second chance. We moved from a school in Dallas where it was terrifying and big, and I was so nervous all the time. I thought by moving here, I’d get some close friends, and I’d love living in a small community where I’d know every one of my classmates.

” I looked directly at Aleah. “But I didn’t get that.

I got the worst of both worlds. All of my bullies knew who I was, and I knew who all of them were.

I got personalized bullying from each and every one of you, but at least I wasn’t bombarded with thousands of kids every day. Only ninety-two.”

The crowd started muttering.

All of the kids sat back in their seats.

None of them smiled.

“I hope one day that you have children,” I said to my class.

“I hope that those children have peaceful school lives. I hope that they come home every day and tell you how good their day at school was. I hope that they are happy and carefree. I hope that they don’t wake up every morning like I did and dread what’s to come.

” I moved my gaze to Marx, my second biggest bully.

“I hope that you marry and have kids. You get the fantastic job, and the beautiful wife who will love you. I hope that you are happy. I hope that all of you are happy. I hope that each and every one of you makes it. And I hope that you never treat someone the way you have treated me.”

The principal cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“I hope that all of you succeed, and that you make something out of your life. Because there is only potential from here. You can only go up, because you’re already at rock bottom,” I said. “Here’s to us.”

With that, I walked back to my seat, uncaring that I’d just made everyone super uncomfortable.

It was only a small portion of what they’d done to me.

I’d gone out of my way to never let on how bad it was.

But it was all out in the open now.

“Thatta girl, Suttie!”

I looked to my left to see Gunner standing at the chain-link fence that wound around the field.

He was wearing his Alabama baseball uniform.

I waved.

He winked and stepped back, heading back down the slope of the hill and to his old Jeep.

He started it up and drove off.

And I smiled.