Diary of an Ugly Duckling Langhorne, Karyn (reading rainbow books txt) 📖

a couple of times. He usually didn’t say much,

just asked how she was doing and then, after a long,

painful silence, hung up.

But tonight, Audra was boiling over with anger,

and the bubbles spilled over onto Bradshaw. She let

the whole story of the session with Dr. Goddard

come tumbling out . . . or almost all of it. For some

reason, she still couldn’t tell Bradshaw about the

lightening drugs.

I don’t want them using that stuff on TV, she told

herself, thinking of her mother, of Petra and Kiana. I

don’t want to give them any more ammunition than they

already have . . . But she knew it was deeper than that.

She didn’t want Bradshaw to know . . . at least not

yet.

“Might turn up something,” Bradshaw was say-

ing. “Something that really helps you get a new han-

dle on your life,” he said.

“It seems kinda . . . stupid to me. Writing down

my feelings and stuff. How’s that going to help? I al-

ready know how I feel about”—she paused, editing

herself before she mentioned anything about skin

lightening or her parentage—“being the family ugly

duckling. And . . .” She sighed. “I’m not much of a

writer, Bradshaw. Or a feeler if you want to know

the truth.”

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Karyn Langhorne

“Not all that crazy about it myself,” he offered af-

ter another of his signature pauses. “When you’re a

guy of my size, people think you’re invincible. A big

block of flesh that don’t feel nothing. They say all

kinds of things, act all kinds of ways, because you’re

supposed to be so big . . . so tough . . .” He paused

for a long moment, as though reliving a memory he

chose not to relate. “Bought that bullshit myself for a

long time. Too long. But the truth is, I’m human too.”

Another silence, but this time, Audra heard hesita-

tion in the pause, as though he were looking for the

words to say something he wasn’t sure would be

well received. “I’ve heard some of the things people

say about you. You’d have to be deaf to miss them,”

he muttered in a low voice. “And I can understand

why you want to do what you’re doing. So you won’t

have to feel that hurt anymore. But people say nasty

things about all kinds of people: big ones because

they’re big . . . fat ones because they’re fat . . . beauti-

ful ones because they’re beautiful, ugly ones because

they’re ugly. Point is, you’re gonna get your share of

hurt from other people one way or the other . . . and

you got to learn to deal with it.”

The dude was more than just handsome . . . He was

deep, Audra decided. And since she was protected by

miles and miles and miles, she felt completely com-

fortable saying, “Thank you, Dr. Bradshaw.”

This time the pause at the other end of the phone

stretched and expanded into something almost

large enough to have a life of its own. Audra felt

something palpable taking shape between them,

something that might mean something. Something

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

223

exciting and different. Something world-changing

and terrifying.

“Whistle if you need me,” he rumbled, a bit of a

sexy chuckle in his voice. “You know how to whis-

tle, don’t you, Marks? You pucker up and blow.”

Chapter 18

July 15

Dear Petra,

I hope you’re okay. I’m not sure I am. They tell me I’m

depressed . . . I guess I am. Maybe I just miss my

sister. I miss home. I even miss Ma.

Be careful out there,

Audra

“So what color are you now?”

Edith’s voice had a familiar edge to it, like

she was trying to sound like she was joking, when

almost anyone with half a brain would be able to

tell a joke was the last thing on her mind. Audra

closed her eyes and pictured her: dramatic eyeliner

and lipstick, her hair in some fashionable, youthful

style.

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

225

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Audra shot

back, trying not to grunt in pain as she resettled her-

self on the bed. Reaching for the phone had been an

uncomfortable stretch that jangled all the nerve end-

ings in her torso, but to admit to pain would give

Edith ammunition that Audra didn’t want her to

have. “It’s two in the afternoon. Aren’t you sup-

posed to be at the salon?”

“I am,” her mother replied. “But I own the joint,

remember? I can take a break if I want to and make

a few phone calls. Besides, I got something to tell

you. About Petra.”

A tingly feeling of anxiety coursed from Audra’s

stomach to her mouth, drying up every bit of mois-

ture between them.

“You heard from her? You got through?” she stut-

tered over a tongue that felt like a dead leaf. “Is she

all right? Michael, too?”

“She called,” Edith said, sounding bright and re-

lieved. “She’s all right. Michael, too. Her detail’s on

the move, that’s why she hasn’t been able to write.

They’re going to be manning a new supply sta-

tion.”

Audra exhaled relief and inhaled a breath of fresh

suspicion. Edith thought she was a decent actress,

but Audra knew every nuance of her mother’s voice

too well to be fooled.

“A new supply station?” she repeated. “Where?”

“I don’t remember,” her mother lied.

“You don’t honestly expect me to buy that, do

you, Ma? You and I both know you memorize every

word Petra says! Now tell me where the new supply

station—”

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Karyn Langhorne

“Well, I wasn’t sure you’d want to know, consider-

ing you’re out there in California trying to change

yourself into your sister. I thought you might be more

worried about how much you weigh, or the shape of

your nose or whether your skin tone is closer to cof-

fee or toffee—”

“Nice try, Ma. If we were talking about anything

other than Petra, I might be distracted by those

insults. But I love her, too, Ma, so I’m just going

to have let all that bullshit slide.” Audra sighed.

A pounding headache started behind her eyes, a

headache she would have liked to have blamed on

the healing pressure of her face-lift, were she not

certain its cause was a certain attractive hairstylist

on the isle of Manhattan. “Now, where’s the new

supply station? Where’s Petra