Free Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Karyn Langhorne Page A

you can
    be a bitch,” she said, anger snaking beneath the
    words. “You can be dumb as dirt, mean-spirited,
    hurt people—and still, you’ll never be alone.” She
    shook her head. “No one cares about what you’ve got
    going on the inside—at least not until they like the
    package on the outside. Forget character: the thing to
    do is pretty up, like they say on TV. Pretty up by any
    means necessary. My dad doesn’t get that—because
    it’s different for him, being a man and all. But for a
    girl . . . for a woman . . .” she sighed, as world-
    weary as any sixty-year-old. “I’m sorry, Officer
    Marks. I’m sure you’re a nice lady . . . but I don’t
    want to be anything like you. Not ever.”
    Penny shuddered, whether from the cold or from
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    Karyn Langhorne
    the words she’d spoken or the thought of being like
    Audra, Audra didn’t know. But with a quickly mut-
    tered, “goodbye,” she disappeared back inside the
    restaurant, leaving Audra very much alone.
    Chapter 6
    “My God, Audra! Do you have any idea what
    time—”
    Audra ignored her mother, thrust her arm deeper
    into the junk-food cabinet and swept a four-pack of
    mini-puddings, a canister of potato chips and two
    bags of cookies into the waiting garbage bag with a
    single swipe.
    She knelt on the kitchen floor in her bra, the but-
    ton at the waist of her tight black pants loose, her
    new yellow chiffon top in a puddle on the floor be-
    side the spikey high heels.
    “What on earth are you doing?” her mother de-
    manded, standing over her in her bathrobe, her
    hairdo now concealed under a colorful do-rag.
    “What does it look like?” Audra snapped, crawl-
    ing deeper into the cabinet. “I’m going on a diet.
    Again. Are you happy now?” She pulled out a small
    bag of Halloween candy she’d forgotten was back
    there. She dumped it into the waiting plastic bag
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    Karyn Langhorne
    along with a half-eaten box of ancient crackers and
    then rose, letting the cabinet door slam.
    “You’re gonna wake Kiana—”
    “I’m not gonna wake Kiana, Ma,” Audra said
    tightly. She moved around the kitchen, opening
    doors and drawers, pulling out a bottle of chocolate
    syrup here and a package of marshmallows there
    until the garbage bag was too heavy to hold any
    more. She let it slip to the floor and turned toward
    Edith, breathing hard with her efforts.
    Her mother stared at her. For a brief time the two
    women considered each other, then Edith shook her
    head.
    “So, I’m guessing it didn’t go well with your
    Bradshaw,” she said in a tone that suggested she
    was trying very hard not to sound smug and failing
    miserably. “I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’—”
    “Then don’t,” Audra snapped, dragging the
    garbage bag toward the front door.
    “That’s just how men are, Audra,” her mother
    continued, following her. “It’s not that they’re not
    interested in the rest of the package, but they appre-
    ciate the efforts we make on the outside—”
    Esmeralda Prince rose like a vision in Audra’s
    mind. Art Bradshaw appreciated the outside, all
    right. That much was very, very clear.
    Audra opened the front door, dragged the
    garbage bag of junk food out into the corridor and
    slammed the door on it like it was an unwelcome
    guest. Edith shook her head.
    “So you’re going on a diet. Again. Do you have to
    make such a production out of everything? After
    DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
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    you lose a few pounds and do something with your
    hair, there’ll be plenty of men—”
    Audra whirled on her, angry words rising in her
    throat as she stared into her attractive cinnamon
    face.
    “Will there, Ma? Is that all it takes—twenty
    pounds and a hair weave?” she gestured at herself,
    bra and all. “Look at me, Ma. When is the last time I
    had a date, huh?”
    “Back when you were in criminal justice school, I
    think,” her mother frowned calling up a memory.
    “Nice boy. Leon or Larry or