Curvy Girls Can't Date Best Friends - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,1
a man who looked as old as my dad yank the for-sale sign out of the ground. He tossed it aside, and a laughing woman came and kissed him.
A boy bent over, pretending to throw up, while three older girls walked toward the front door.
“Joe!” I called to my older brother. “They’re our age!”
He came into my room and pulled his headphones around his neck. “Any hot girls?”
“Ew,” I said, even though the girls were pretty. They each had long blond hair like their mother that rippled down their backs.
I didn’t focus on them for long. My eyes were on the boy. He straightened, and sandy blond hair covered his forehead, brushed over his dark eyebrows. Was he in my grade? He could have been. What was he like? I couldn’t tell anything about him from his plain T-shirt and khaki shorts. Only that he looked like he was my height. But again, that was hard to tell from up here.
I wished I could open my window and lean out to get a better look, but it was the middle of August, and Dad would be so upset if he knew I was letting out all of his cold air. Apparently, all of the house was his and Mom’s...until it needed cleaning.
From downstairs, my mom called, “Joe, Callie, come here!”
Joe and I gave each other a look. Mom always made us greet new neighbors, but I was only wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt from practice earlier today...
“One second,” we yelled at the same time.
Joe ran out of the room, and I had a distinct feeling he was doing the same thing I was: primping.
I ran to my dresser and dug through the bulk of my jeans and T-shirts until I found the ones that looked best on me. I tugged them on and started toward the stairs. Joe came out of the bathroom smelling like way too much cologne.
Fanning my hand in front of my nose, I said, “You smelled better before!”
“Really?” He put his armpit in my face, and I nearly fell down the stairs.
“Stop!” I cried, hurrying to the bottom before I could get more hairy armpit in my face.
He finally gave up, and when we reached the kitchen, Mom gave us an exasperated look. “You two,” she sighed. Then she reached for a carafe of her special homemade strawberry lemonade and handed it to me.
I adjusted the sweating pitcher in my hands as she gave Joe a round glass pan full of cinnamon rolls. She’d been experimenting with different flavors lately, and through the glass, these looked strawberry flavored.
“Can I have one?” Joe asked.
“You don’t think they’ll notice one missing?” she said, turning to get the plastic plates and cups decorated with tiny flowers.
“I just don’t care,” Joe retorted. “They look so good, Mom.”
I rolled my eyes. Flattery was his strong suit. “Kiss up.”
“Callie,” Mom admonished. “No name-calling.”
“Even when it’s true?” I said sweetly.
Smiling, she shook her head. “Let’s get going.”
We marched out the front door and down the sidewalk. Last time we’d done the neighbor greeting, it was for the house across the street where an old couple lived with their creepy cat. It had a scraggly coat and two different colored eyes and curled around my legs the entire twenty minutes we were there, like it had an evil plan to trip me. This family already seemed more promising.
Their front door was open, and we could hear girls arguing inside about who got which room.
“See? You’re not the only siblings who argue.” Mom looked over at us pointedly and knocked on the door frame. “Yoo hoo, neighbors.”
My cheeks reddened. Not only was I standing here with a sweaty glass of lemonade, my mom said yoo hoo.
The woman I’d seen earlier stepped from the direction of the garage. I’d been in this house when it was still listed for sale—it looked a lot like ours but like someone had flipped it the opposite direction and painted it in bright, coastal colors unlike the beige that covered all of our walls.
The woman smiled wide and said, “Hi there. Come inside.”
Mom walked a couple of feet into the living room, and as we followed, I thought we might as well have been standing on the porch.
A crashing sound came from the direction of the garage. Shattering glass.
I flinched, and the Mom said, “Whoops. Must have dropped something.”
It didn’t sound like dropping. The next crash that came sounded like something had hit the wall.