Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Seven

Nadira

Emerson Academy hada uniform for Mathletes. Or rather, a jacket. A navy-blue corduroy one (which always showed any speck of lint). The Emerson Academy seal was emblazoned on the front pocket and the words Emerson Academy Mathletes stood out in bright gold letters on the back.

I plucked it from the hanger in my closet and felt the fabric ripple under my fingertips. Most of us didn’t wear them to school and chose to only put them on once we were in the safety of the school’s white van, surrounded by other Mathletes.

Not Regina, though. She wore hers all day, not caring about the comments people slung her way. Although we normally didn’t get along, I had to admit I admired her confidence. And maybe I was baffled by it too. I wondered why she insisted on wearing it when skipping it would result in much less notoriety.

Shaking my head, I folded the jacket and stuffed it in my backpack, along with a small lint roller. As I walked down the stairs, I caught the hints of bacon frying and moaned. I loved it when Dad was home. So much better than toast with cream cheese.

He stood in front of the stove, teasing the bacon in the pan. The crisp crackles of sizzling grease hit my ears, a comforting sound all its own.

He looked up from the skillet and said, “Morning, baby girl.”

“Morning.” I glanced around to see if Mom was around, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Mom left for work already,” he said.

“Oh.” I slid into a bar stool at the island. “How was morning weights?” I asked him. His team had to work out from five to six in the morning every day to get strength training in before classes started. That on top of their afternoon practices had to be brutal.

“Good,” Dad said. “You have a Mathlete meet today, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” I perked up, flattered that he even remembered.

“I’m going to see if I can get Tom to take over practice so I can make it.”

My lips spread into a smile. His assistant coach was more than capable of handling one practice. I just hoped he followed through on his word. “That would be great. The meet’s at Clearwater. And you know they always have people come in through the west entrance of the school.”

He nodded, bringing the bacon from the pan to a plate full of paper towels. Grease immediately spread across the dotted white surface. “What time?”

“Three,” I reminded him. Although, one glance at the magnetic whiteboard calendar on the refrigerator showed me I’d already written it there.

Feet pounded on the stairs behind me, and I turned to see my brothers thundering down, shoving each other and arguing over whose cologne was whose.

Carver flamboyantly picked at his hair and said, “You’re just jealous the ladies like my scent better.”

“Please.” Terrell shoved him, making him stumble down the last step. “I got that for Christmas from Nadira. Ask her.”

I blanched, not wanting to be in the middle of the argument but knowing my memory could settle it in a second.

Carver leaned over the counter next to me. “Who did you buy that blue bottle of cologne for? Huh?”

I closed my eyes, knowing exactly who I’d given the blue bottle to. “I gave you the blue bottle—”

“Hey!” Terrell yelled.

“—and I got you a green bottle,” I finished, pointing at him. “I saw it in the drawer with my brushes the other day.”

With a roll of his eyes, Terrell pushed off the table and bounded up the stairs. Dad winked at me and handed me a few pieces of bacon wrapped in a makeshift holder of paper towels.

Carver tried to grab the rest of them, but Dad batted his hand away and gave him a few pieces, then launched an apple at him, testing Carver’s reflexes.

Carver snatched it out of the air and said, “Ha!” sticking out his tongue.

“Nice,” Dad said, saluting him. “Ready to crush the Bears Friday?”

“Of course.” Carver bit into his apple. “Think we can make the point guard cry again this year?”

Dad snorted with laughter. “It’s not his fault the tallest guy on his team was only five foot eight.”

I shook my head. “Y’all need to pick on someone your own size.” It wasn’t really fair for that school to even be in the same league as Emerson Academy. They were a small country school farther inland and didn’t have the privilege of money like we did.

From behind me, Terrell snorted, and a fresh wave of cologne filled my nose as he sat beside me. “Kind of hard to do when you’re six-six.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe that means don’t pick on people.”

He tugged a piece of my hair. “Or just you.”

I batted his hand away just as Dad lobbed another apple.

Terrell picked it out of the air and bit into it. “Try harder next time, old man.”

Dad just chuckled.

I finished the rest of my bacon and said, “We better get going.”

“Yeah,” Terrell said. “Wouldn’t want to keep Mr. Aris waiting.”

Dad launched another apple. This one found its mark on Terrell’s forehead.

I sniggered as I picked up my backpack and made my way out to the car.

“Have a good day!” Dad called after me. “You’re going to do great today!”

“Thanks!” I said and walked outside. As I waited for my brothers in the car, I took off my blazer and put on my Mathletes jacket. Maybe if my dad could believe in me, I could believe in myself.

* * *

As I got out of my car wearing the jacket, I felt more self-conscious than ever. The corduroy material itched at my arms and strained around my shoulders as I walked toward Adriel and Carter. As soon as Adriel saw me, she whistled and said, “Work it, girl!”

Blushing, I shook my head and pulled my backpack on so at least it would cover the giant MATHLETE on my back. It was practically a kick-me sign.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this jacket before,” she said.

I shrugged off the comment and walked toward the school. Even though it was cold outside, Isabella and Tatiana leaned against Grant’s truck, a sad imitation of Ryker’s. Why anyone in our school needed a vehicle that got less than ten miles to the gallon was beyond me.

Catching my gaze, Tatiana lifted her hand and waved, cooing, “Hi, Mathlete!”

My cheeks went pink as the rest of them laughed at the word. At me. I kept my eyes on the pavement, trying to block out their laughter.

Next to me, Adriel muttered, “Don’t listen to them.”

But then Grant called, “Do you ever use your calculator to get off?”, making the guys around him guffaw with raucous laughter. “You can spell ‘boob’ on it.”

Carter growled, “Cut it out.”

“That’s cute,” Tatiana said. “How nice of you to share your boyfriend, Adriel. Since we all know Nadira can’t get one of her own.”

Adriel kept her gaze forward. “Don’t react. You’ll just give them what they want.”

But my fists were clenching at my sides and my eyes were stinging, and I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

Carter bit back, “It’s called common human decency, Tatiana. Why don’t you try it sometime?”

I closed my eyes, knowing what Adriel had said was true. His retort only made them laugh harder at him. At us. At me.

As we drew closer to the school, the giant Ad Meliora engraved in stone over the entrance mocked me. The phrase meant “toward better things” in Latin and was supposed to remind every student at the Academy that we were always to strive for better.

Except the “better” part didn’t apply to every aspect of our lives. We didn’t strive to be better people or to treat one another in a better way. No, we strove to be better than others, whatever the cost.

Before we walked inside, I took off my jacket and put it back into my backpack, trading it out for the blazer. I never should have worn it anyway.