Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Thirty

CARSON

My sister pushed up from the car and ran to me, wrapping me in a big hug.

I stumbled back from the force of her embrace and said, “Gemma? What are you doing here?”

As she stepped back, I heard the engine of Mrs. Mayes’s SUV.

Gemma waited until she drove away to answer. “Dad called me crying, begged me to help him pack.”

It had been a year since I’d seen Gemma, but she seemed so much older than me with her hair cut in a short bob and her clothes so much more refined than the T-shirts and leggings she always used to wear. That mixed with her words had me totally off guard.

“Dad was crying?”

She nodded, her eyes wide and pale in the streetlamps. “Said Mom surprised him with news about leaving and you beat him up then stole a bunch of stuff from the house?”

Acid rose in my throat. “Of course he said that.”

“But that’s not true, right?” she asked.

Her confidence in me nearly tore me apart. Almost as much as the fact that what Dad told her wasn’t completely wrong.

“And now you’re dating Callie!” Gemma continued, not needing an answer. “Are you staying with her family while the house sells? Is it awkward having Dad next door? Has he threatened you?”

I held my hands up against the rush of questions. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” she said.

“Why don’t we grab some food and talk then?” I looked around for her car but didn’t see any around. “Did you drive to town? Where’s your car?”

She began walking to the passenger side of my car. “I flew in, and Dad picked me up. I told him I was Ubering back to the hotel, but figured I’d catch you instead.”

I unlocked the car, and we got in. “And work? They just let you drop everything to come?”

“I brought my laptop to catch up.”

“Of course.” I smiled. Gemma had thrown herself into work, and I got it. I’d done the same with sports and school.

“Please tell me you’re taking us to Waldo’s,” she said as I started down the highway. “Chester’s still there, right? He has to be what? Ninety?”

“Eighty-four,” I said with a smile. “And he’s still there. Probably won’t be this late, though. Gotta spend some time with the—”

“’Love of his life,’” Gemma finished, making her voice sound old and raspy like Chester’s. She sighed with a soft smile. “I always liked knowing a love like that was possible.”

My throat felt tight as I nodded. “Me too.”

I pulled into the diner’s parking lot, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of Callie and her trademark strawberry milkshakes. Honestly, I thought the things were gross—chocolate was way better—but they could change her whole mood in two sips flat.

“You’re smiling like you’re in love,” Gemma said with a teasing grin. “Things are going well with Cal Pal?”

My lips twitched. I didn’t really feel like talking about it. Not with Gemma. Not after being away from her for so long. “Let’s talk about you,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. My throat clogged as I told her the truth. “I’ve missed my sisters.”

Gemma smiled sadly and put her small hand on my arm. “We’ve missed you too. We just couldn’t stay...”

“Here,” I finished. I got it—I was a casualty of their escape, but tonight I just wanted to be with my sister.

I opened my car door and got out. She smiled up at the sign written in sweeping cursive. “I’ve missed this place.”

“It’s missed you too.” I put my arm around her and led us into the restaurant.

As I’d suspected, Chester wasn’t in his usual booth, but my waitress from the other night was here—Betty. She welcomed us with a smile and asked if there was anything she could get for us. Gemma ordered a Mt. Dew, and I opted for a sweet tea. With all the swimming I was doing lately and the time spent out in the sun, it was hard to keep my energy up, so I took the extra calories where I could get them.

The TV in the corner of the diner played something completely innocuous about local squirrels and a nut shortage, and Gemma dreamily watched it.

“What?” I asked. “Suddenly take up an interest in woodland creatures?”

She chuckled. “No, it just seems like all the news in Manhattan is extremes, you know? So much good and bad happens that there’s not time for anything in between.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t really get the fascination. I tried to stay away from the news—too much pain and mudslinging for me. I’d rather be out, living my life than hearing about other lives being destroyed.

And speaking of destroyed lives... “So what are you doing at Dad’s house?”

She shrugged. “Apparently Mom offered to hire movers to get their things out and sold, but Dad didn’t want strangers going through their stuff.”

I rolled my eyes. “Typical.”

“Yep. So I’m going to help him box up his things and get them loaded into a trailer, then let Mom know when the movers can come in to get the rest.”

“Very practical.”

She smiled, but it quickly faltered. “It was weird being in the house. Like I could feel the aura there.”

“Aura? Come on,” I teased, knowing I’d felt the same way before.

“Maybe it’s just me feeling the memories again. It’s like I’ve been away, created this life for myself, but the second I walked into the house, I was a little girl again listening to them fight.”

That tight feeling was back in my chest because I knew exactly what she meant, except I’d never gotten the taste of freedom she had—could only cling to the hope of something more. I couldn’t wait to move into my dorm at Stanford and know I had a space that was my own, free of my parents.

Gemma covered her mouth and pointed at the TV. “No way.”

My eyes followed her finger, and I read the headline scrolling along the bottom. BREAKING NEWS: Charles Alexander caught for insider trading.

“That’s Ryde’s dad, isn’t it?” she asked, but she didn’t need to, because soon there was footage from a helicopter of police leading their father out in handcuffs while the family trailed behind, holding on to each other. The news anchor continued speaking. “Charles Alexander is a renowned financial banker on the West Coast, as well as the father of movie star Ryde Alexander and recent high school graduate Merritt Alexander...”

I covered my mouth, realizing one of the small blonde specks on the screen was Merritt.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with a sleazy father,” Gemma said, turning to me.

For the first time in my life, I thought I might have more in common with Merritt than I did with Callie.