Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Thirty-Two

CARSON

All day Saturday, I was on edge knowing Gemma was in the same space as Dad. Even though I was working a double shift at the pool, I kept my phone on Mrs. Mayes’s desk so she could let me know if she heard it ring. She thought I was hoping to hear from Callie, but the truth was I just wanted my phone to stay silent. No news was good news when it came to my dad.

My nerves were strung tight by the end of my shift, but when I checked my phone, there was a text from Gemma.

Gemma: I’m riding with Callie to Waldo’s. Everything went okay with Dad. Tell you more later.

My curiosity piqued, but I tried to focus instead on showering off and changing into the spare clothes I’d packed. One of the major gifts athletics had given me was the ability to focus on a specific task and block out everything else. I used that skill as often as I could—my mom called it a man’s “nothing box.” I called it survival.

I stayed in the nothing box until I got to the diner, but when I saw Gemma and Callie in the window, I came undone. The sturdy walls around my fears and worries collapsed, and my eyes got hot just watching them together. I was so thankful Gemma was safe. Thankful Callie would soon be safe from me.

I wiped at my eyes, removing the traces of moisture, and got out of the car. They were sitting at a booth midway into the restaurant, talking to Betty. She greeted me and took my drink order, then left me alone with two of the people I loved most.

I went to sit by Gemma, but she said, “Sit with your girlfriend! I want to bask in this moment.”

I rolled my eyes at her and sat next to Callie. Our thighs touched, and the heat from her body warmed me in ways I didn’t want to admit. Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and put on a happy face. It was what they both wanted from me.

“How was today?” I asked.

Gemma frowned. “You know, same ol’, same ol’. Dad blamed Mom for all of his problems, said it was her fault he got his work injury because she asked for help with you the night before and he was too tired to be safe, and then he threw a bunch of stuff and broke it.”

My fists balled, and my muscles readied me to stand, to fight. “He what?”

“Not at me,” she said. “It was just some of Mom’s trinkets, and it was after he’d had a few drinks. I got in with Callie pretty soon after.”

Callie gently rubbed my arm, trying to ease my stress, but I needed to get far, far away from her because my rage was too close to the surface.

“I have to use the bathroom.” I got up and stormed toward the facilities. Why did Dad have to do that stuff around his daughter? At least Mom was another adult, not someone he’d had a hand in creating. Not someone who’d flown across the country to help him.

I shut myself in the single-stall room and locked the door. Bracing myself on the sink, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to find something I could recognize, but all I saw was my father. The strong chin. The square face. The fury in my eyes.

I turned away and took deep breaths. This was just another reminder of why I needed to get as far away from Callie as possible and make sure she’d have Nick to cling to.

He might have been a poet and had about as much personality as a post, but he probably hadn’t almost killed his dad. Wouldn’t flip into a rage every time he heard about his father’s actions.

Deciding the only way to get past this was to go through it, I left the bathroom and walked back to Callie and Gemma. The second they saw me, they quieted, which just reinforced the fear that they’d been talking about me.

Callie gave me a concerned look and said, “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

Gemma frowned. “Callie was just telling me about your workouts for the swim team at Stanford. It sounds intense.”

I shrugged. “You need to be in good shape to compete.” And I needed to compete to go to Stanford and live independent of my parents. If I picked up a part-time job, I could probably pair that with savings from lifeguarding to cover all of my own expenses without ever needing to call my mom. Right now, nothing sounded better.

Callie leaned against the wall behind her, getting farther from me. “How’s work, Gemma? I still don’t understand what you do.”

She batted a hand. “No one does,” she said with a chuckle. “I actually work in supply chain management so it’s kind of like really complicated inventory.”

“And you like it?” Callie asked.

Gemma nodded. “I mean, it sounds kind of boring, but actually, there are a lot of moving pieces, and I get to work with so many different people. Plus, there’s lots of room for advancement. I’m about six months of good work and online classes from a promotion and a pretty decent raise.”

“That’s amazing,” Callie said, her voice full of light and happiness. I tried to feel the same things for my sister as I echoed Callie’s words.

“What about you, Carson?” Gemma asked. “Did you decide what you’re majoring in?”

“Still upset I can’t major in lunch,” I said to break the ice in my own veins, not to mention the awkward tension that had fallen over the three of us.

It got the response I wanted as both girls giggled.

“And the verdict is?” Gemma said.

Honestly, I’d spent so much time trying to get out of here, I was still murky on what the plan was for after. “I’m stuck between teaching gym and studying business so I can manage a gym or a fitness program. Maybe even coach.” I shrugged.

Gemma tapped her chin as she thought it over. “Business would probably give you more opportunities for growth.”

Of course Gemma would want me to pursue the more lucrative career.

“But, Carson would be amazing with children,” Callie said, nudging my shoulder.

She had more faith in me more than I did in myself. Honestly, the thought of working with children was terrifying. What if I messed up? It could have implications for the rest of their lives.

Betty brought our food, thankfully relieving me of conversation for a little while. Once we finished eating, I offered to take Gemma to the hotel and waved goodbye to Callie. She smiled and got into her car, then drove away.

I went to get into my car, but realized Gemma was still standing on the sidewalk. Her arms were folded over her chest, and she stared at me with an eyebrow lifted. “Something is off. You need to spill.”