Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Two

Eleven Years Old

CARSON

Mom’s promise only lasted three months before the fighting started again.

My parents yelled back and forth downstairs, just like they had at the old house. Even worse. They’d been at this for at least an hour, and there was no hope of slowing down anytime soon. The words they flung at each other made me sick to my stomach. Usually Dad was the one who got physical, but Mom could be just as hateful with her words, calling him a deadbeat and a waste of skin.

My chest was tight, and I had trouble breathing, much less sleeping, even though my alarm clock said it 2:53.

Clary’s window had slid open for her to sneak out half an hour earlier.

Gemma’s music was loud—but not loud enough.

I had no idea what Sierra was doing. Was she okay? Should I check on her?

Something heavy slammed against the floor downstairs, and I cringed, stuck somewhere between leaping out of bed to protect whoever it was that had been hurt and running away as far as I could get.

My door cracked open, and I scrambled back on my bed.

“Shh, shh,” Gemma soothed. She came into my room, fully dressed in day clothes. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?” I asked. Not that it mattered. Anywhere would have been fine.

“I have an idea.” She quietly opened my dresser drawers, then flung clothes at me.

I threw them on over the underwear I’d gone to bed in and followed her down the hallway. She paused before the staircase, making sure the yelling was farther away, toward the garage, before continuing to Sierra’s room.

“Won’t Sierra be mad we’re going in her room?” I whispered.

Ignoring me, Gemma pushed through the door where I saw Sierra waiting for us, looking down at her phone. At the sound of the door opening, she jerked away, but seemed to relax when she realized it was us. She walked straight to the open window and began climbing down the lattice on the side of the house.

Gemma easily followed out the window, and I looked back toward the stairs. The yelling had stopped. Maybe it was over? But then other sounds came from downstairs, just as disturbing, and I hurried toward the window.

Sierra sprinted across the grass toward the green belt, and Gemma and I followed. They went past the first, smaller park next to our house, past Callie’s house, and stopped at the bigger park.

“I’m so sick of them,” Sierra gritted out as she climbed the stairs meant for much younger children.

Gemma followed after her. “They should have just left us with Grandma and Gramps. Mom and Dad clearly don’t want kids anyway, and Clary’s gonna wind up pregnant before she even graduates.”

My chest ached at their words about our sister. About our grandparents. I missed them too. Gramps was the only guy in my life who actually cared to have me around. Dad would order me around to get tools when he worked on the car or yell at me to find the remote, but he never taught me anything like Gramps had. Gramps was the one who showed me how to fish, how to set up a tent and start a fire. Without him, I was lost. The only time I felt like I knew what I was doing in our new town was around Callie. Being with her was as easy as it had been with Gramps. I felt like I could just be myself around her, even if we didn’t talk about how horrible things were at my house.

I got on the stairs and walked up to where my sisters lay on the platform. Gemma had a bottle of Mt. Dew in her hand, and I realized I was thirsty too.

“Can I have some?” I asked her.

She tossed me the bottle, and I waterfalled some into my mouth. She usually didn’t mind sharing if I didn’t put my lips on it.

Sierra busied herself, spreading out her glittering gemstones. “Should we call the cops on them?”

“No,” Gemma said immediately. “They would blame us. Remember what happened when Clary called them at the old house.”

I shuddered against the screaming and yelling and punishment our parents had given her.

“Hey, Sierra?” I asked.

She looked up at me, her eyes glittering like her stones.

“Can you...” I bit my cheek, tasting blood with the leftover Mt. Dew. “Can you break the curse in me?”

She and Gemma exchanged a look before Sierra said sadly, “I’m sorry, Cars. It doesn’t work that way.”

No, there was no one coming to help me. There was no way out. There was just a way through. As I lay beside them and looked at the few stars dotting the sky through the city lights, I thought Clary had it figured out.

She had an escape, and I needed to find one too.

CALLIE

“Callie, can you take the trash out?” Mom asked. It was just the two of us in the dining room this morning since Dad had already left for work and Joe was catching up on his assigned reading—much to Mom’s chagrin.

I finished rinsing off my breakfast plate and put it in the dishwasher. “This is what I get for doing my homework?”

Joe glared at me over the top of War and Peace.

“Just be careful not to get anything on your uniform,” Mom said, stacking up the rest of the dishes.

I tied off the kitchen trash bag and carried it to the front door. The trash cans were hidden beside our house, and this was the closest way. I pushed the door open and walked through, then saw the drip on the sidewalk.

“Shoot,” I muttered and hurried off the concrete, holding the bag as far from myself as possible. I carefully lifted the trash can lid and lugged the bag into it. Something about swiping my hands together to free them of invisible germs made me feel better. I didn’t know why.

A scuffing sound came from a few feet over, but I didn’t see anyone walking around me. Then I looked up and saw Carson climbing in through a bedroom window that wasn’t his. My eyebrows drew together. Hadn’t we already talked about training for American Ninja Warrior together? Was he trying to one-up me again?

As I went back inside to finish getting ready for school, I promised myself to confront him at lunch time.

* * *

When I got to the cafeteria and had my tray, I found Carson sitting at our usual spot. We always took the end of a long table, that way we had at least one side free.

He waved at me as I approached, but he looked exhausted.

“Are you sick?” I asked as I set my tray down.

“No. Why?”

“You look terrible,” I said, taking him in up close. Even his hair was rumpled, like he hadn’t had a chance to comb it. “Do you need my extra brush?”

“No.” He yawned and set his cheek in one of his hands. “Maybe food will help.”

I remembered my own food in front of me and dipped a chicken nugget in some ranch. “I saw you climbing in the window this morning.”

His back stiffened. Guilty.

“I knew it!” I accused.

Putting his hands up, he said, “It was Sierra’s idea, honest.”

“Oh, sure, blame your sister,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s fine. I’m still going to win.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Win?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I said. “American Ninja Warrior. You’re trying to train.”

Suddenly, he burst out laughing, so loudly that the people around us noticed and were turning our way with incredulous smiles that said they wanted in on the joke. Well, I did too. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You’re so innocent,” he said, finally cooling down and wiping tears from his eyes.

I hated when people said things like that. If I had a dollar for every time someone called me naïve or gullible, I could have bought plenty of duct tape to shut them up. “Tell me then.”

Just as quickly as his features had lit up, they fell, making him appear more exhausted than ever. He looked to the side to make sure no one was paying attention, then to the right to make sure no one was walking by.

“You know why we moved?” he whispered.

We’d been best friends for almost a year, and he was asking me if I knew why he’d moved in? “Of course. Your mom got a new job.”

He shook his head.

“What?” I asked, confused. “But you said...”

“It’s a lie,” he said bitterly, then he looked away and took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving from the force. “My parents have a...bad marriage.”

My mind flashed to the time we brought them cinnamon rolls, and the way I was never allowed at their house, only outside. “What do you mean it’s bad?”

“They fight,” he whispered. “Things get broken, and when Dad’s drinking...people get hurt.”

My heart felt like it had stalled in my chest, every bit as heavy as a boulder. “He’s abusive?” I breathed. Even the word felt wrong in my throat. I knew he was mean, but not in that way.

Carson nodded. “Last year it got so bad Clary called the cops. Of course, when they showed up, Mom and Dad said it was a misunderstanding. Said Mom tripped down the stairs and that Clary had a nightmare. After the cops left, Dad...” He cringed and took a breath. “He hurt Clary. Mom threatened to leave him, but he said he would do anything—even move away from his family and his friends—if she would stay with him.”

The weight of what Carson told me struck harder than anything of the individual words. It made all of the times he was sent away from the house, the way his mom worked so many hours, the way his sister was always gone—make sense. But none of it should have made sense. Parents weren’t supposed to hurt their kids. They were supposed to love them.

“Carson, I’m...”

“Sorry?” he finished for me. “Don’t be. I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to cheat to win at American Ninja Warrior. If I win, it’ll be ‘cause I’m awesome.”

I rolled my eyes. How could he joke at a time like this? Having said what he’d said? I just reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m here for you.”

His lips quivered for a moment before he bit them together. “Best friends forever?”

I smiled and nodded, wanting to just take him into a hug and make all of the hurt go away. Instead, I repeated his words and meant them with all of my heart. “Best friends forever.”