Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Eight

Nadira

We gotinto the school van that would take us to the Mathlete competition, and I sat in the front passenger seat, the space reserved for the captain. It was the best seat in the car, with enough leg room to fit my entire backpack by my feet. But instead of getting out the English homework I should have been working on, I took out my phone.

One new email from Apollo.

I happily tapped to read the message, my English homework a long-forgotten memory.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Nadira,

I’m flattered you think I’m poetic. If you could hear it in my Texas twang, you might not find it so lyrical.

I was always a mama’s boy, which my siblings love to pick on me for. I have a younger sister and an older brother. My dad’s a banker at the biggest chain in Texas, and my mom’s a stay-at-home mom. We basically live in Mayberry. There aren’t a lot of hiking trails at home like there are here, and we weren’t close to a beach either. So I feel like I’m always out trying to soak in what I missed out on growing up.

Last weekend, I went to Seaton Pier because I heard there was good fishing off the dock. Even though the people at BU act like Seaton is the cheap part of town, I loved it. The waters were clear dark blue, like the Air Force colors. I even rolled up my pants and put my feet in the water. It felt wrong not to, you know?

My mom and dad met at Brentwood U, and I can’t help thinking that every spot I go might be special to them somehow. Dad’s told me a bit, but I wish I could ask Mom about it. I guess it’s better not to think about it too much.

What about you? Are you close to your brothers? Your parents?

V/r,

Apollo

I smiled at my phone, hardly glancing up as Mr. Aris started the van and drove us away from Emerson Academy.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Apollo,

My parents met in college too, although, they went to a small private college in Illinois. I’ve never visited it before, but I think someday I might like to. Their jobs brought our family here. I was in sixth grade when we moved to the area, and I met best friends who are more like siblings to me than my own brothers.

My two best friends are Cori and Desirae, but we call her Des. I’m pretty sure Des is going to be a famous singer someday. Cori’s going to rule the world, whatever she does. And we met two other girls this year, Faith and Adriel, who are the sweetest people ever. Whenever I get made fun of at school, they’re always on my side.

As for my brothers... I love them to death, but it feels like we live in different worlds a lot of the time. They’re obsessed with basketball, and even though I understand the game well enough, it feels like always being on the outside of an inside joke, watching them and my dad talk about it.

I’ve gone to a few parties at Seaton Pier, but the last one was busted up by the police. I don’t drink, but I was still lucky I got out without being caught. If my parents ever knew I was at a party like that, I’d never see the beach—or the outside of my room—again. We went to the pier a couple weeks ago to get corn dogs and walk around, and I still felt panicked, just from the memory. Pretty sure I’ll be lying low until graduation.

My mom is very smart. Analytical. Cunning. And she has a good heart. Even though we should get along the best in our family, sometimes it feels like she just doesn’t get it. Like she skipped being a teenager and was born in a pant suit, ready to take on the world without any insecurities or doubts. I’ve never felt that level of confidence. Maybe someday.

Sincerely,

Nadira

I sighed as I hit send. I needed to remember who I was. I wasn’t the picture of Tatiana I’d sent him. The girl blessed with beauty and charisma. No, I was Nadira, the girl gifted with mathematical skills and literally nothing else. Maybe someday a guy who was more interested in brains than beauty would take notice, but until then it was best to just lie low and not get my hopes up. It was the only way I knew to keep from being disappointed.

I moved to set my phone in my bag, but it vibrated in my hand. This time, though, it didn’t signal an email. No, an instant message awaited me, from none other than Apollo Banks.

Apollo: Hey, I noticed you were online.

I stared at the phone as though it were from another planet. Somehow, seeing the letters pop up in front of me, appear on my phone screen, seemed so intimate. So real.

Suddenly, he wasn’t just words in an email inbox or a requirement for a research study or a photo on a social media page. No, there was a person on the other end of my phone. One who cared enough to message me. Who was waiting for a reply.

Apollo: Are you there?

Nadira: Hey, sorry.

I frantically racked my brain, looking for something, anything, to say that wouldn’t let on to the screaming inside my mind.

Nadira: What’s up?

Apollo: Just finished walking the path between my classes so I’m ready for Monday. You?

Nadira: On the way to a Mathlete meet. Which classes?

Apollo: Philosophy and human geography.

Nadira: Those don’t sound like engineering classes...

Apollo: Getting my gen eds out of the way first. It was my advisor’s idea. She wanted me to ease into the harder classes.

Nadira: That’s dumb.

Apollo: What do you mean?

Nadira: I mean, you went to college to study engineering. You should at least get to taste it before it’s too late to change your major... Who’s your advisor?

Maybe I could hint about it to Mom without letting on who’d told me.

Apollo: Dr. Harris. Do you know her?

My lips parted. My mom was Apollo’s advisor? I knew she kept on a few advisees so she could interact with students, but this was too real. My fingers hung over my phone screen as I contemplated a response.

Nadira: Yeah, we’ve met.

Apollo: But next semester, I’ll hit the ground running with my engineering classes.

Nadira: Same here. :)

Apollo: Are you excited for college?

Nadira: That’s an understatement.

Apollo: Why?

Nadira: I mean, why not? High school is awful. Everyone here has a superiority complex. There aren’t that many people of color in my school. I’ve taken every advanced math class I can get into, and I’m still bored half the time. Not to mention I get asked if I make love to my calculator on a daily basis.

Apollo: ...what?

Nadira: It’s a long story.

Apollo: I have half an hour until I need to get to a meeting.

Nadira: Well, in that case... I wore my Mathlete jacket to school today and got made fun of before I even hit the building.

Apollo: Ugh. People are awful. If you went to school in Texas, as beautiful as you are, you would have been homecoming queen.

A nasty pang went through my stomach. He was right. Tatiana had been the homecoming queen, and her friend Isabella was sure to be prom queen. I wished I looked like Tatiana, with her rich russet skin and eyes as wide and charming as a fawn’s. Not to mention her narrow hips and thin arms. She could have used my jacket as a parachute—if she’d ever stoop that low on the fashion scale. I bet she checked that all her life-saving devices were designer before ever stepping foot on a plane.

Apollo: I got made fun of a lot my freshman year...

Nadira: Yeah?

Apollo: I was 98 pounds and tried out for the football team.

My eyes boggled at the message. How had that Greek god ever been ninety-eight pounds?

Nadira: WHAT?

Apollo: Uh-huh. I was a...late bloomer. I grew six inches and fifty pounds the summer after freshman year. Got another couple inches and forty pounds the year after that.

Nadira: Wow. Didn’t it hurt to grow that much? When my brother shot up from 5’9” to 6’6” I felt like he was always taking Tylenol and hot baths because of the growing pains.

Apollo: I still have stretch marks on my calves and shoulders from it. I hurt all over for like a year and a half...Yeah it sucked.

Apollo: You know, until people stopped treating me like crap.

Nadira: Ugh. Why can’t people treat you well because you’re a person and not because of how you look?

Apollo: If someone doesn’t feel good about themselves as they are, they need to find reasons they’re worthy. One way is making themselves look “better” than someone else.

Nadira: What if they are actually better?

Apollo: Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.

Nadira: Well, math is it for me. I’m screwed.

Apollo: Depends on who you’re asking. The people who build your house. The people who run the stock market. The people who rule the world. I bet they don’t think math is such a worthless skill.

Nadira: Yet all the awards that count in high school are based on social standing.

Apollo: Yep. They really prepare you for the real world.

Nadira: Do you like college?

Apollo: Yes.

Apollo: And no.

Nadira: What do you mean?

Apollo: It’s fun to be on my own. But there’s no consistency. One day you have lit class, then next is philosophy. Some days you’re up until midnight studying for three tests and the next week you don’t even have homework. You meet so many people you can’t remember all their names, yet it’s hard to make any real connections. It’s lonely and chaotic. If I didn’t have ROTC, college would be a lot harder than it is.

Nadira: I never really considered that.

Apollo: Yeah?

Nadira: I guess I never thought having freedom could be a bad thing.

Apollo: Me neither. There are definitely upsides too. There aren’t really cliques in college. And I don’t have to get permission to go on a midnight ice cream run.

Apollo: Sorry, I need to get going. But I’ll talk to you soon?

Nadira: Definitely. Have a good day. :)

I rested my phone in my lap, staring out the windshield at the highway passing before us and the houses passing on either side.

Part of me wondered if Apollo would have messaged me if he knew what I really looked like. If he would have talked to me if he had met me as a high schooler.

Then I thought I shouldn’t ask questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.