Curvy Girls Can't Date Cowboys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,5
thick mustache. “Sure am.” He grabbed a stack of foam signs and hanging materials. “Let’s get these up in the front windows.”
I said goodbye to Leroy and followed Dad up front. Once we reached the front glass, we took down the posters, and he handed me half the stack. They were branded signs saying things like:
Antibiotic free.
Cage free.
NO Hormones or Steroids.
“Like them?” Dad asked. “Our designer did them—along with some grocery ads supposed to go out next month.”
“They look good. On brand,” I agreed. My parents were all about doing things the “natural” way. Ever since I’d gotten so sick, they’d done everything they could to keep me safe, from tearing out the carpets in our house to only buying the most toxin-free food they could find.
I knew they loved me, but sometimes I just wanted a chance to spread my wings. “Dad?”
He pressed his poster onto the adhesive. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
His hands fell away from the wall, showing the bright and clear sign.
NO Factory Farming.
“What’s up, hon?”
I lifted my shoulders in a big inhale, then let them down. “Mom said I wasn’t living in the dorms while I went to college, and I wanted to know if you’d reconsider?”
He folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head.
That was the look that said he was preparing to tell me no. I had to make my case, and fast. “There are so many good reasons to live in the dorms—I’ll be closer to campus, able to ask my instructors questions more easily when I need to, join groups that meet later at night, build a real community. Plus, sitting in a car so much will be so bad for my cardiovascular health. Imagine how much walking I’ll get in if I live in the dorms.”
Slowly, he raised his hand, signaling for me to stop. “Ginger, I know you think living in the dorms is fun and exciting, but it’s not.” He held up a finger. “There’ll be a bunch of kids with raging hormones packed in together.” Two fingers. “It’s way more expensive than what we’ll pay in gas.” Three fingers. “They won’t be trained in what to do if you have an asthma attack.”
“Dad, I’m fine! How many times can I tell you and Mom that I know how to use a rescue inhaler?”
He shook his head solemnly.
“And so what if there are kids with hormones? Don’t you trust me to make the right decisions?”
He sat back against the window and folded his arms over his chest. “I remember what it was like to be a teen. Making smart decisions in the heat of the moment is easier said than done.”
“That’s an indictment on you,” I argued, my voice raising. “Why should I be punished for the dumb things you did as a teen?”
His voice got low as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “That is enough, Ginger. You will live at home next year, whether you want to or not.”
As he turned to hang up more posters, my heart sank. It wasn’t about saving money or keeping me safe. It was that they didn’t trust me. What could I do to prove to them that I was ready? I needed to find out or miss out on my first chance at being free.
Once we finished hanging the signs, Dad grabbed a few tubs of the ice cream and we headed home. I parked my car behind his, and we plugged them in to charge before going inside.
I refused to say more than a handful of words to him. What could I say? They thought I was just a dumb teenager with no brains of my own, as if I hadn’t learned anything from my illness.
I reached the door first and yanked it open to an explosion of cheers, streamers and twinkle lights.
My mom, sisters, and Aunt Rosie were inside, looking thrilled.
“Your sisters got the audition!” Mom cheered.
“What?” Dad looked between her and the eight-year-olds whose grins practically split their faces in two.
They jumped up and down and cried together, “We got the audition!”
Despite my hard day, I grinned. They’d been practicing these lines forever and did so well on the video I made for them to send in. “Good job!” I yelled and hugged them both. “I’m so proud of you! When do you leave for Hollywood?” I asked. “Who’s taking you?”
“Next Friday!” they cheered. “Mom and Dad are both coming!”
Mom glanced over at her sister. “That’s the other part of