Pudge and Prejudice Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  PUDGE & PREJUDICE

  Written with wit and considerable insight into the highs and lows of first love, this coming-of-age twist on the Jane Austen classic had me laughing out loud, singing ’80s lyrics in my head, and cheering on the brilliant, yet self-deprecating heroine. Pudge and Prejudice is a joy to read from beginning to end!

  LORIE LANGDON, author of Olivia Twist and the Disney Villains series

  Allison Pittman will have readers laughing (and singing) on every page of this delightfully tenderhearted novel for all ages. In Pudge and Prejudice, she not only offers a brilliant, modern retelling of Jane Austen’s classic, she taps into the best of the human spirit through the witty yet hopeful lens of a quirky and often “unseen” teenage girl. With spot-on voicing, Pittman crafts a particularly savvy character who learns that beauty really is soul deep and that she’s got something of value to offer her new town. Try not to sing along as you read this sweet story. Dare you!

  JULIE CANTRELL, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of Perennials

  What a delight! In Pudge and Prejudice, Pittman appeals to the young and the young-at-heart, bringing Jane Austen’s masterpiece to radiant life in a 1980s Texas high school. Packed with names and references from all Austen’s novels, Jane-ites will relish this new young heroine. Pudge will steal your heart and—as she finds her Darcy—take you right back to the thrill of first love.

  KATHERINE REAY, bestselling author of Dear Mr. Knightley and The Printed Letter Bookshop

  Full of spunk, wit, and ’80s charm, Pudge and Prejudice is a retelling so immersive and unique, it stands on its own, a masterpiece that would cause even Jane Austen to reach for a boom box. A. K. Pittman dazzles with her rich voice and attention to detail, making this book a brilliant addition to the YA space. Truly, I cannot wait to read what she writes next!”

  CAROLINE GEORGE, author of Dearest Josephine

  quintessence: the most perfect example of a quality or class: EPITOME

  Pudge and Prejudice is the quintessence of what a Jane Austen retelling should be.

  Austenites, rejoice! This is the P&P adaptation we’ve been waiting for. With a fresh and sparkling YA voice that is certain to draw in readers of all ages, A. K. Pittman has refashioned the most ubiquitous of all Austen characters and storylines into a setting and style so innovative and yet organic—a Texas high school in the 1980s—you can’t help but wonder if this is somehow what Jane had in mind for Darcy and Elizabeth all along. Readers will wonder why there were no hair scrunchies, Swatches, and pegged jeans at the original Netherfield ball. I can’t remember the last time I loved a book as much as I love this one. It’s an instant classic I will return to time after time.

  BETHANY TURNER, award-winning author of The Secret Life of Sarah Hollenbeck and Hadley Beckett’s Next Dish

  Equally funny and poignant, Pudge and Prejudice is a brilliant nod to a classic work while still remaining true to ’80s pop culture and appealing to modern teens. The only explanation for how Pittman managed to have both my teen daughter and me laughing and identifying with Elyse is that the author is a magician. The interplay between the three sisters is spot on. The connection between Jayne and Elyse is sweet without being syrupy, and the somewhat competitive if protective relationship between Lydia and Elyse is a picture of the best in childhood sibling rivalry. Even better, the small-town Texas setting lays out every single pop culture reference and nostalgic event of the ’80s that makes me want to run for my scrunchies and Walkman. Truly every reader, young or old, will find something to love in this quick read. Well done. Well done.

  JANYRE TROMP, editor, and author of That Sinking Feeling

  Pudge and Prejudice is the Jane Austen adaptation we’ve all been waiting for! Set in the 1980s, Pudge and Prejudice is ripe with cultural references that will delight both young readers AND their mothers. We’ll all be wishing we could bust out our Walkmans as we follow Elyse Nebbitt into the murky waters of her new Texas high school, where her beautiful older sister, Jayne, becomes the instant “It girl” and her younger sister, Lydia, makes a fool of them all. Meanwhile, Elyse finds herself both fascinated by and exasperated with Billy Fitz, the popular, brooding boy skulking around school. Laugh-out-loud funny, sweet, poignant, and timely, this book is a delightful throwback to the classic tale that we all know and love. Allison Pittman has honored Jane Austen well with this wonderful novel.

  KELLI STUART, author of the award-winning novel Like a River from Its Course and A Silver Willow by the Shore

  I’d never imagined Austen’s Pride and Prejudice set in a 1980s teen world, but Pittman makes it work with expert skill that all ages will adore. Between Elyse’s internal monologues, hysterical teen antics, family drama, and the references to all-things-’80s, this book will have you chuckling, cheering, and smiling as Austen’s classic takes a clever turn into the world of scrunchies, high school, and first loves. Move over Bon Jovi and Cyndi Lauper. Pudge and Prejudice is a delightful hit at both the funny bone and the heart.

  PEPPER BASHAM, author of the Mitchell’s Crossroads series and My Heart Belongs in the Blue Ridge

  Does the world need yet another Austen adaptation? Yes. Yes it does. And the world needs this one. Pudge and Prejudice is a book with snort-laugh inducing turns of phrase, nostalgia for days, and all the heart you could ever want in a story. Add to that characters who feel like friends and the delightfully sincere narrative voice of Elyse Nebbitt, and the novel shines. An absolute joy!

  SUSIE FINKBEINER, author of Stories That Bind Us and All Manner of Things

  Nostalgic yet on trend, Pudge and Prejudice is equal parts smart and relatable. Allison Pittman’s voice shines with wit and charm in this story that will delight mothers and daughters alike. Grab your scrunchies and your ’80s tunes for this can’t-miss romance!

  ASHLEY CLARK, author of the Heirloom Secrets series

  Humorous and heartfelt. Jane Austen would be utterly delighted in this Pride and Prejudice adaption by Allison Pittman!

  TERI WILSON, bestselling author of Unleashing Mr. Darcy, now a Hallmark Channel original movie

  With its relatable characters who steal your heart, nostalgic ’80s references, and hilarious, soul-stirring voice, Pudge and Prejudice will be your favorite read of the year. If A. K. Pittman’s name is on the cover, I’m reading it.

  JENNY B. JONES, award-winning author of A Katie Parker Production and I’ll Be Yours

  Visit Tyndale online at tyndale.com.

  Visit the author’s website at allisonkpittman.com.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Ministries. Wander and the Wander logo are trademarks of Tyndale House Ministries. Wander is an imprint of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois.

  Pudge and Prejudice

  Copyright © 2020 by Allison Pittman. All rights reserved.

  Cover photographs and illustrations are from Shutterstock and are the property of their respective copyright holders and all rights reserved. Retro design © Itana; headphones © 9dream studio; cassette tape © FabrikaSimf; hair band copyright © Hong Vo.

  Designed by Jacqueline L. Nuñez

  Edited by Sarah Rubio

  Published in association with William K. Jensen Literary Agency, 119 Bampton Court, Eugene, Oregon 97404.

  Pudge and Prejudice is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-800-323-9400.

  ISBN 978-1-4964-4282-6 (hc); ISBN 978-1-49
64-4283-3 (sc)

  ISBN 978-1-4964-4285-7 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-4964-4284-0 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-4964-4286-4 (Apple)

  Build: 2021-01-05 02:44:25 EPUB 3.0

  For Beth—who has been my friend through cruel summers and winters with hazy shades

  Who never, ever let me stop believin’

  And for Rachel—my friend who was willing to take me on as an agent (and Bill, who knew it was time for me to fly . . .)

  And most of all, for Mikey—who knows all of my true colors, and will keep on lovin’ me anyway

  If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me

  Time after time

  If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting

  Time after time

  Cyndi Lauper

  “Time After Time,” She’s So Unusual (1983)

  I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.

  Jane Austen

  Pride and Prejudice (1813)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 8 (b)

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  candor: unreserved, honest, or sincere expression : FORTHRIGHTNESS

  Elyse Nebbitt’s candor, while refreshing, would also prove to be a most troublesome feature.

  IT IS A TRUTH UNIVERSALLY ACKNOWLEDGED that a teenage girl in possession of a double-digit jeans size must be in want of a diet. I’m just not a part of that universe. All my life—my chunky, pudgy, soft-bellied life—I’ve always found something I needed more than a smaller waist. Like to read more books, to learn more words, to know the personal satisfaction of guessing the grocery total before the cashier beeps through all the produce. You know, things that matter.

  I am the Saturn of my solar system, only instead of a body surrounded by floating chunks of ice, I have a single, soft, rippling ring. Nothing a few celery sticks wouldn’t cure, according to my mother. Not all girls are naturally thin, Elyse, she tells me. Every day. Followed by, Boys aren’t likely to take the time to search for inner beauty.

  To the universe, being thin means being right. In my case, it would mean my mother was right, and boys were right. If I’ve learned nothing else in my fifteen years, it’s this: I would rather stand my ground in all my wrongness than step one foot into someone else’s idea of right, even if it means I’m sometimes left standing alone.

  Then September of my Sophomore year, 1984, my entire universe changed.

  My father ripped our family up from our mediocre life in Phoenix to pursue an equally mediocre job in Texas. Northenfield, Texas, to be exact, where he would spend his days doing something called Property Management. Actually, his company had given him three choices: Someplace, Ohio; Somewhere, California; and here. But Ohio was too cold for my mother’s taste and California too expensive for my father’s salary.

  And so, Northenfield, Texas.

  Texas.

  It’s not like I was expecting cowboy hats and gunfights. I watch Dallas. So I knew it had cities and towns, just like we drove through on our way here. I knew it couldn’t be much different from what we were used to in Arizona, but the view from behind the U-Haul wasn’t exactly promising. When we finally came into what would be our “town,” I counted one string of fast-food restaurants and two scrawny strip malls. There was, however, no lack of churches. One after another lined the streets. Methodist, Baptist, First Baptist, Southern Baptist, Lutheran, Sanctification Baptist—each differentiated only by the name and the quippy message on the sign out front.

  BIBLE CLIFF’S NOTES: SIN, BAD. JESUS, GOOD.

  DID YOU “FALL” INTO SIN? TIME FOR BACK-TO-SUNDAY SCHOOL!

  GOD BLESS THE BADGERS

  This last one I wouldn’t understand until we drove past Northenfield’s one enormous High School: HOME OF THE BADGERS. So at least I could rest easy knowing my future classmates and I were blessed by the congregation of Sanctification Baptist Church. When I had a chance, I’d suggest we visit there first, just to keep all of our interests under one roof.

  Our street was in a perfectly average neighborhood, if on the downside of shabby. Older houses—all of them with porches and swings. Rough green yards, huge trees. Like everybody on the street had agreed that they would tidy up later.

  “It looks so normal,” I said to my older sister, Jayne. She and I were in the second seat of the Station Wagon—Mom driving, following Dad, who was solo in the U-Haul. Somehow, after six hours in the car, Jayne managed to look beautiful, her blonde hair in symmetrical, fluffy feathers, her skin miraculously sweat free, her clothes unrumpled to catalog perfection. Some would think this would conjure up some sort of jealous spark in me, but it’s really more of a sense of wonder. Being jealous of Jayne would be like being jealous of a butterfly, who has no more control over its beauty than Jayne does. Everything about Jayne is effortless. Not just her beauty, but her kindness, her goodness. In a way, we are everything each other is not, so we stick together in our weak spots. And that’s important, because in this family, you need a hand to hold in our spinning vortex of chaos.

  The moment the big truck turned onto what Mom called “our” street, Jayne and I each rolled down our windows, trying to guess which would be “our” house. There was no sign out front, and since it was the middle of the day, plenty of driveways were empty. But then, the huge truck with all of our worldly possessions drifted to a stop, and Dad hopped out with all the fanfare a middle-aged man could muster. Mom pulled precariously into the narrow drive, and we were home.

  The house.

  Our place in Phoenix looked like every other house in Phoenix. Small, square, tan. A front yard full of rocks. Little rocks, big rocks. But this—it looked like something out of one of Mom’s movies-of-the-week, where the story is about some young woman inheriting an old house, then there’s a montage of painting and hammering with some hunky carpenter before—voila!—the essence of quaint Victorian architecture is restored. But we had a dad who, as far as I knew, didn’t own a tool belt, and a mom whose housework didn’t extend beyond doling out chores to me and my sisters. So, really, I didn’t know if the house was sadder to see us than we were to see the house. While I knew it was nothing more than two stories of brick and wood and windows, I swear I saw it take a deep breath and sigh as we piled out onto its lawn. Never before had I felt compelled to apologize to a domicile. But for the time being we belonged to each other.

  We are what has been called a “sprawling” family. Mom and Dad, Jayne and me, and three other sisters besides. Yes, five of us. Five Nebbitt Girls. Jayne, as I have mentioned, is beautiful, but that’s not nearly an accurate-enough descriptor. She is sixteen, a Junior, and looks pretty much like she should be in the pages of Mademoiselle magazine. “Five Quick Fixes to Take You from Tolerable to Tantalizing!” Our younger sister Lydia is thirteen and also pretty, but in a much more cautionary way. And by “cautionary,” I mean—lock up your little brothers. Between her long, spiraled hair, her short shorts, eye makeup, lip gloss, and—um—figure, she could pass for at least seventeen. But the only thing “seven” about her is her grade. As in, seventh. But only because she had to repeat kindergarten. I know for a fact Mom finagled the rules to enroll her in eighth here
in Northenfield.

  There are two others, too. Mary and Kitty. The Littles. One is six and one is eight; one likes to read and the other likes ponies. I don’t know much beyond that. They’re always just kind of there, you know? Filling chairs at dinnertime, using the last of the toothpaste, hogging the TV. Jayne and I love them, of course. The way you love a pet—not like a puppy or anything, but more like a couple of hamsters that can capture your fancy for an entire afternoon before becoming nothing but rustling, squeaking noise you have to remember to feed.

  My parents lump us into two groups: the big girls and the little girls. I am, of course, one of the big girls. Two years older than Lydia, one year younger than Jayne, who also happens to be my best friend.

  The Littles, even though they’d been relegated to the backward-facing third seat of the Station Wagon, managed to be the first ones out of the car, climbing over Jayne and me, squealing with delight at the yard and the trees. Perfect for a Swing! Or a Tree House! Or a Fort! In the backyard, if there was a backyard. They ran in circles, tumbling over each other, getting leaves and grass in their hair, and laughing because they had to Pee!

  I swear the house looked at me for help.

  Jayne and I unfolded ourselves out of the car. For me, it was a slow, sweaty process, pulling my T-shirt away from my back and waving it to make a breeze. No one would ever believe we’d come from a shared experience. She wore a pair of pink jogging shorts and a tank top and looked like she could have been a model for an ad for the Diet Pepsi she was drinking.

  “So this is it,” she said, offering me a sip.

  I took a swig. Normally, I hate the taste of diet anything, but I felt a need to build up courage. Apparently Mom did, too, because her hands were still gripping the wheel.

  “Is she ever going to get out of the car?”

  Jayne took the can of soda back. “I think she’s as freaked out as the rest of us.”

  Dad jangled a set of keys above his head and was all, “Hey girls! Let’s check out the new digs!”—like any of us ever talk like that. But it was sweet how he included Mom in his girls, because that seemed to do the trick to get her out of the car.