Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,65
way to see Ronan and warn him about the police. To keep him from getting in trouble for things he didn’t do.
“Rory,” I whispered, “hold up your paper?”
A curious look in her eyes, she obliged, and I reached into my backpack for my phone. I fired off a quick text to Ronan.
Zara: The cops are looking for DP. Be careful.
Rory’s eyes were full of emotion as she took me in, but I tried to focus on the report we had to write. I couldn’t face the fact that my only link to the guy I’d given my virginity to was now a text message I wasn’t even sure he’d read.
My phone vibrated, and my heart leapt. Had Ronan seen my message? Had he replied?
Message failed to send.
I tried again and receiving the same notification.
I wiped at my eyes and blinked back tears. Rory rubbed my back, but that just made it worse.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and fled to the bathroom. The reality of my situation hit harder than ever. All the hope I’d been holding on to was gone.
I sat in a stall in the empty room and cried and cried. Only when my sobs subsided did I hear a sniff come from the next stall over.
My heart froze. Someone was in here. “Who’s there?” I cautiously called.
A little sigh came first, then Merritt’s voice. “I guess we’re both having a hard day, huh?”
I snorted. “We agree on something?”
She laughed softly, then quieted. “I’m sorry about everything that happened.”
I was silent for a long moment, then said, “Me too.”
Forty
Jordan had a Future Medical Professionals meeting after school, so I didn't really have an excuse not to go to Mrs. Bardot’s office for our meeting. I dreaded it, but the whole day had been hard. How could this be any worse?
As I sat on the bench outside her office and waited by her closed door, all I could do was look at my phone and my failed text message to Ronan, wishing it would go through. That text bubbles would appear on the screen. I frowned. Wishing for things that weren't going to happen didn't do anyone any good.
Since Mrs. Bardot still hadn’t come out yet, I decided to pace the empty halls. I hitched my backpack over my shoulder and walked to the other end of the school before turning around and walking back. On one end, I could hear the kids on the track team doing workouts in the gym, on another, music coming from the music room. All these people had lives, goals, things they were working toward. I hoped this meeting would help me find the same.
As I drew closer to Mrs. Bardot’s office, I could hear her bird, Ralphie, chirping away. She was cooing something to him. “Sweet Ralphie boy. Want a treat? It’s a good thing you’re not a parrot, or that would make being a school counselor really difficult.” She chuckled at her own joke. “It wasn’t me; it was the bird!”
I cringed and knocked on the open door. As I walked in, Mrs. Bardot quickly straightened and stepped away from the bird, as if she didn’t want to get caught. Just the gesture brought a smile to my face.
“Looks like you're feeling a little better,” she said.
“A little.” I turned to Ralphie. “How are you, sweet bird?”
“Brilliant as ever,” Mrs. Bardot answered. “Now, let's get to you.”
Resigned, I dropped my backpack by one of the open chairs and sat across from her. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Well, first of all, I think we should talk about you. I know you said you wanted to work for your father's company. Is that still on the table?”
I glared at her. “Did the news headlines make it look like it's still on the table?”
She frowned. “So it's time for plan B.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I guess.”
“Which is what?” She poised her pen over a blank sheet of paper and waited. Just the fact that I had nothing to add to her blank page frustrated me.
Finally, I said, “If I had a plan B, I wouldn't be here.”
“There has to be something,” she pressed. “What would you have wanted to do if your father hadn’t planned on you joining the family business?”
“I don't play what-if games. Asking that question only leads to disappointment and sleeping in your friends guest bedroom and only having two bags of stuff to call your own.” My voice cracked. “It means missing your dad. Even if he did something really bad.”