The Duff

The Duff
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  • You're the Duff
  • Come on in...
  • “Designated. Ugly. Fat. Friend,” he claried. “No offense, but that would be you. It’s not like you’re an ogre or anything, but in comparison...” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “You have hot friends... really hot friends.” He paused, watching the action on the dance floor for a moment, before facing me again. “The point is, scientists have proven that every group of friends has a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who associate with their Duffs.” (pg. 6)
  • Thanks for the advise
  • “I know you hate him,” she continued. “I wanted to make sure you were fine... and that he was okay, too. You didn’t, like, stab the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering hotties, but if you need help burying the body, you know I’ll bring the shovel.” (pg. 72-73)
  •  When we reached the door of the unused janitor’s closet, I had no feeling of shame... not yet, at least. I grasped the doorknob and noticed Wesley’s eyes narrow with suspicion. I yanked open the door, checked that no one was watching, and gestured for him to go inside. Wesley walked into the tiny closet, and I followed, shutting the door stealthily behind us.“Something tells me this isn’t about The Scarlet Letter,” he said, and even in the dark I knew he was grinning. (pg. 83)
  • “But I was wrong,” she said. “I thought I could escape from my problems, but I was so wrong, Bianca. No matter where you go or what you do to distract yourself, reality catches up with you eventually.” (pg. 125-126)
  • The lump wasn’t going away. It just kept growing. All of my worries and fears had been leading up to this moment, and I couldn’t fight them back anymore. I couldn’t keep them bottled up. Tears started gushing down my cheeks, and before I knew it I was sobbing.How had this happened? It felt like a bad dream.I felt like my world was finally spinning out of control. And this time, I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t ignore it. And I definitely couldn’t escape it. (pg. 173)
  • That was something we all had in common. We were all sluts or bitches or prudes or Duffs.I was the Duff. And that was a good thing. Because anyone who didn’t feel like the Duff must not have friends. Every girl feels unattractive sometimes. Why had it taken me so long to figure that out? Why had I been stressing over that dumb word for so long when it was so simple? I should be proud to be the Duff. Proud to have great friends who, in their minds, were my Duffs. (pg. 257)
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