than being a person of size and innate klutziness wandering alone through the world? Being a person of size and innate klutziness wandering through the world next to the most desirable girl in the universe. As I learned today when I went from Kim Cruz, loser loner, to Kim Cruz the DUFF.
Yep, I was that girl. The Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Not that it was Destiny’s fault. (Desteeni’s . . . maybe). She did what she could to integrate me into her glamorous orbit of unbridled, unearned praise and attention, but as Michelle Hu might helpfully point out in this particular situation, there is no getting around physics. Not even at Ground Hero, a new fair trade coffee shop in Genesis with its clientele of bored hipsters and alternagirls, all of whom took particular notice of Destiny (and me) when we dropped in for lattes. It was like I was traveling with the pope. A pope everybody wanted to . . . date.
The usually sleepy joint went from zero to manic frenetic energy in under five seconds, just because Destiny deigned to walk in. She was magnetic, magical, captivating without having to try, her beauty so complete and unabashed that people didn’t even pretend they weren’t staring.
I would have wanted to kill myself if it weren’t so fascinating.
“Can you believe this cray-cray?” Destiny whispered as we waited for our order, the barista hardly able to keep his eyes off her, burning his finger on the milk steamer for his trouble.
“Is this, like, your life now?” I marveled, slack-jawed.
“Pretty much.”
“Dang,” I sighed. Though I kind of understood what she meant before, about the downside. All that unsolicited attention, 24-7. It had to be exhausting. And numbing too. When everyone loves you because of something that has nothing to do with you, that must mess with your psyche quite a bit. And I knew Destiny wasn’t the sort of person to let that wave of adulation corrupt her. At least, I hoped she wasn’t.
“Here you go, extra shot free, just for you,” the barista cooed, handing Destiny her latte, with, no joke, a heart in the foam.
“Is mine ready?” I asked, standing on my tippy toes, trying to see over the counter.
“Sorry?” he said, eyes still on Destiny.
“Medium soy latte?”
“Oh yeah, in a sec.”
“My friend would love an extra shot too,” Destiny suggested, not even having to tilt her head or uptalk or anything. Flirting for her would have been gilding the lily. Hell, for her, breathing was gilding the lily.
“Of course, totally,” the barista swooned back, flexing his old-school tattooed bicep as he expertly ground the beans.
When we sat down at a sofa in the rear of the café—Destiny facing inward the way celebrities do, so they won’t get eyeballed—I asked how she was handling being the North Star for every human who crossed her path.
“It’s taking some getting used to,” she chirped. “But. Not that much.” An impish smile spread across her face, and for a minute I saw only Elyse, my cynical, genius, brave compatriot from the Tribulations.
“This is messed up, right?” I said.
“I know,” she replied, not quite catching on.
“No,” I leaned in, whispering, “I mean being a Changer—”
“Word,” she interrupted, softly so only I could hear. “It’s twisted, how easily people are manipulated by outside appearances.”
“Yeah, people are basically awful,” I said, just as the barista strolled by, jingling his keys in a likely attempt to get Destiny to turn around and look at him.
“Most people are massive disappointments,” she agreed.
But then, I wasn’t acting much better. “I know we’re supposed to be learning empathy, but what I feel is mostly rage,” I said. “I imagine shoving everyone I see down the stairs. I’m a monster.”
“Don’t be a dope. What you are dealing with is the weight, ha, of other people’s judgment,” Destiny chided.
“So are you,” I pushed.
“Maybe. But with me, people are giving me the benefit of every doubt. It’s like I’m speaking with an English accent and everyone is assuming I’m oh-so-clever. Only what they’re assuming is that I’m worthy of special treatment. Because of genetics. They’re drawn to me the way humans are drawn to a glittering tranquil pond—to see how gorgeous they might look in the reflection.”
“It’s the inverse of why they are repelled by me. Any association with someone like me is like tar they can’t get off.”
“Can’t really deny the Changers Council is on to something . . .”
I knew what Destiny meant. Maybe this mission wasn’t so worthless after all. I mean, look around. Empathy isn’t exactly growing on trees these days. Maybe we did need to infiltrate the human race with all versions of our otherness and teach these fools what it really means to love and be loved for the right reasons.
After a bit of silence, I asked, “Do you miss Elyse?”
“I do,” she said, thinking for a few seconds. “But I suspect that wasn’t the last we’ll be seeing of her.”
“Really? You’d give up your throne? I’m not sure I’d be that strong.”
Destiny shook her head. “I know who I am already. And you? You’re way stronger than you realize.”
But I’m not so sure I believe her. On either count.
Change 3–Day 11
Today was Drama Club audition day. Also known as “the best day in Kris’s public school life.” He showed up at homeroom dressed in a crimson muumuu with tropical flowers printed on the fabric, tight jeans underneath, and black-and-red-checked high tops. He said he also wanted to wear a head scarf and mules, but ultimately decided less was more. (And that he didn’t want to get bashed and thrown into a Dumpster before call-time.)
The Central High Drama Club had picked Into the Woods for this year’s musical, and Kris was certain he was going to play the baker—though he added, “I’d consider the witch if needed, because I love me some drama in a wig.”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze,” Kris whined across the lunch table. “Pleeeeze come with.”
“Fine!” I said, just to shut him up.
“Yayzers,” he said, rapid-clapping his palms in front of his nose. “So you’ll audition?”
“Hell to the no,” I screeched, nudging a limp crinkle-cut french fry to the other side of the tray with my spork. “I’ll tag along for moral support, but there is NO way I’m singing and dancing in front of the whole school looking like . . . like . . . this.”
Kris eyed me funny, bent his head to one side, then the other. I know this is crazy, but it was almost as though he sensed something from the way I said what I said . . . sensed that who and what I am is not immutable.
