Curvy Girls Can't Date Cowboys
Chapter One
MOST PEOPLE HATED RETURNING to school
after a holiday break. Not me. I was ready to be out
from under the watchful eyes of my parents, have
some space from my three younger sisters, and see
my friends again. While they'd been busy on glam‐
orous vacations or hanging out with their
boyfriends, I'd been stuck in my parents’ house,
existing on Mom’s hourly holiday schedule or
covering shifts at our family’s health food store,
Ripe.
The second my alarm clock went off for that
first day back at school, I sprang out of my bed and
went to the den, where I did my breathing treat‐
ments every morning. Living with asthma wasn't
fun, but it was as much a part of me by now as my
frizzy red hair. Just something I had to deal with.
I sat with the nebulizer on and watched videos
from my favorite YouTubers. They had so much
skill, and I always caught ideas on how I could
make my own videos better. By the time my treat‐
ment was done, I found a new channel to subscribe
to and a cool feature to ask my videography teacher,
Mr. Davis, about. I’d need all the help I could get in
case I didn’t make it into UCLA’s film school on my
first attempt.
Locking my phone, I set it down and put the
equipment away before going into the kitchen,
where chaos had already ensued. (Did I mention I
have three younger sisters?) The twins, who were
balls of eight-year-old energy, were already prac‐
ticing their lines for their next movie audition, while
Cori talked with Mom about the advantages of
eating chocolate with breakfast instead of the
organic and GMO-free raisins our parents always
tried to serve us with granola cereal.
Mom glanced over at me, and I could tell from
the height of her frizz she was already at her
wit's end.
“Morning,” I said.
“Good morning, agave nectar,” she replied with
an exasperated smile. Mom used to tease me by
calling me natural sweeteners instead of “honey”,
and it kind of stuck.
Cori took advantage of the momentary distrac‐
tion to sneakily grab a bag of dark chocolate chips
and walk away. I was so getting some of those
later.
“How was your treatment?” Mom asked. “Did
you make sure all the medicine got used?”
“Of course,” I answered. “I’ve only been doing
this every day for the last eight years.”
“Good. And your inhaler is stocked, right?”
“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound frustrated (and
failing miserably).
“Look, I just know that your asthma gets worse
in the winter. I want to make sure you’re taken
care of.”
“I can handle it. I’ve been handling it.”
“With my supervision.”
A groan was seconds away from escaping my
lips.
“Now, eat your breakfast. You girls are
going to—”
“—be late,” I finished. Turning to grab a box of
granola and some organic soy milk, I rolled my
eyes. She said that every morning, because my
parents apparently thought if you weren't at least
five minutes early, you were late.
“You got some mail, by the way,” Mom said
with a slight smile.
“I’ll grab it on the way out.” I set my bowl
down to get the mail from the counter, but then I
noticed her growing grin. “Why are you so excit‐
ed?” She was never this eager for me to get my
heap of spam college advertisements.
She shrugged and looked toward the ceiling.
“Oh, just a little school called UCLA.”
My mouth fell open, and I basically sprinted
toward the counter where we kept our mail. The
big envelope lay there like a shining beacon of my
freedom. I ripped it open and held the letter inches
from my face.
Ginger, we are pleased to announce you have been
accepted into...
“I got in!” I screamed.
“What?!” Cori and Mom yelled at the same
time.
“I got into the film school!” I cried, jumping up
and down.
Cori came and jumped with me. “That's
awesome, Ging!”
“I need to call your father,” Mom said.
“It's going to be so great,” Cori rushed out.
“You’re going to go to college and meet boys and
get so awesome at videography and become a
famous director! Oh, and you're going to live in the
dorms! I wonder if your roommate’s gonna be like
one of those creepy people who saves all of their
toenail clippings? Or worse—your toenail clippings.
Or maybe she'll be like your best friend forever. I
mean, we all know she’s not gonna be better than
me, but—”
“You’ll still be her roommate,” Mom said,
covering the mouthpiece of her phone.
A popping, crushing, suffocating silence
sounded in my ears. Cori would still be my room‐
mate? “What do you mean?”
Cori said, “I’m not going to college with her.”
“Ginger’s going to stay here, of course.” She
said it so plainly. So matter-of-factly. As if I should
have known this in my bones.
“What?” I managed, feeling like a bucket of ice
water had just been dumped over me. I'd been
banking on college as a source of freedom. My
opportunity to get out from under their rules and
helicopter parenting. They never mentioned me
staying at home.
“There’s no reason for you to live in the dorms
when you can stay here and we can watch you,”
Mom answered. “The first semester of college is
hard, and I don’t want you forgetting a breathing
treatment and being back where you were in eighth
grade.”
I closed my eyes. Not only had being so deathly
ill haunted my past, it was going to follow me for
the rest of my life. But my parents didn’t care about
that—they cared about logic, control. I had to prove
to her that living in the dorms was the smarter, safer
choice.
“It's an hour drive,” I said. “More in traffic.
That’s a lot of gas money and time wasted, plus I’ll
probably be exhausted. I shouldn’t be driving
tired.”
“You probably won't have school every single
day, and you can always grab a latte on the way out
of town if you need to.”
My mouth fell open. I got my wits about me to
argue just when my mom said, “Hi!” into her
phone. “Ginger got in!”
While she celebrated with my dad, Cori met my
eyes with a sympathetic look.
My own eyes stung, and she blurred in my
vision. Rather than cry in front of my captor, I
turned around and walked out the door, knowing
that my entire escape plan had crumbled.
Cori met me out in the car, holding the bag of
chocolate chips. “Want one?” she asked. “Or
twelve?”
A tear slipped down my cheek as I took a hand‐
ful. This kind of a morning called for more than a
little chocolate.
“I just want you to—” Cori began, but I shook
my head and took off.
“I don’t feel like talking,” I said.
She pressed her lips together in a frown but
nodded and used what surely must have been all of
her self-control to stay quiet. Still, she reached over
and rubbed my arm as it rested on the console.
I looked over at her as I pulled into the school
parking lot and gave her a halfhearted smile. No
matter what happened, she understood what I was
going through better than anyone else.
“You’ll figure it out,” she said with complete confi‐
dence and then got out of the car and caught up with
her friends. Only wished I believe in myself that much.
With a sigh, I got out of the car and began
walking toward the school. A guy from the football
team said, “Find your soul, Ging?”
I rolled my eyes. “Find your penis? Or did you
need to borrow a microscope?”
His friends all oohed and laughed at my burn,
but I was so not in the mood. My anger grew and
expanded with each step I took toward the school
and the stupid motto engraved above the
entrance.
Ad Meliora. Toward better things.
I scoffed and pushed through the glass double
doors. How was I supposed to go toward better
things with my parents holding me back? “Toward”
implied movement, and I? I was stuck.
I met my friends at Rory’s locker, where we
always hung out in the morning before the bell
rang. The four of them greeted me with smiles and
hugs. Even though we’d only been a group of
friends for a semester, it felt like I’d known them my
whole life.
“You guys are not going to believe this,” I said
and told them the whole horrible story about how
I’d gotten into UCLA and then how my mom
dropped a massive bomb on me that detonated all
my dreams of freedom.
“You're kidding,” Zara said, her dark eyebrows
furrowed together. “They can't keep you locked up
at home forever.”
I shook my head. “They should just change my
name from Ginger to Rapunzel and call it good.”
Callie put her hand on my shoulder sympatheti‐
cally. “I'm so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”
“You mean other than giving me a spoon to dig
a tunnel out from my room?”
She laughed, and Rory said, “You're one of the
smartest people I know. Surely you could at least
use a shovel.”
Jordan had a small frown on her face, and guilt
immediately struck me. She’d be living with her
mom and commuting to UCLA, too, not because
she didn’t want to live on campus, but because she
couldn’t. They didn’t have enough money for her to
live in the dorms. I opened my mouth to apologize
to her, but the bell rang.
Rory, Zara, and Callie gave me apologetic looks
and said goodbye before starting to class.
Jordan and I began walking toward first hour
videography. With everyone crowding the hallway, I
practically had to walk behind her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, just loud enough for her to
hear me. “I shouldn’t have complained so much
about not being able to live on campus.”
“Don’t be,” Jordan said, turning and walking
sideways. “I totally get it. I know it’s not the same
with my mom as it is with your parents. But
there's a lot of time between now and August.
Maybe they'll loosen up a bit. We could even
carpool.”
“That would be awesome.” Leave it to Jordan to
find the bright side when I couldn’t see through my
disappointment. I shook my head and twisted so I
could pass by someone in the halls. Curvy girl prob‐
lem? Always taking up more space than everyone
else. “But really, I shouldn't have been so selfish and
made it sound like living at home was a terrible
thing. I was just really hoping to get out of the
house for once.”
She held her books to her chest. “I know, but it's
going to work out. You’ll see.”
I appreciated her faith in me, but I couldn’t help
thinking I would be missing out, both for me and
my career. What’s the point in filming people living
their lives if I never had the freedom to experience
my own?
The halls thinned a bit, and I stepped beside
her again. Desperate to change the subject, I asked,
“How was your first Christmas with Kai?”
An easy smile formed on her lips. “Amazing—
speaking of Kai...”
Jordan’s boyfriend approached us, grinning
brightly. “Hey, babe, Ginger,” he added as an
afterthought.
Jordan beamed back at him just as sappily, and I
gave them a salute. “See you in class, Jord.”
They were already tucked against the wall,
looking every bit the perfect couple they were. I
couldn't help but feel like I was missing out on life
and love and adventure. I wanted to experience
things, find something worth filming. Instead, all I
knew was Emerson Academy, home, and a grocery
store carefully curated by my parents.
I reached my typical spot in front of one of the
Apple computers lined around the room and set my
bag in Jordan's chair to save it for her.
The room seemed to charge, and I glanced over
to see Ray Sadler walking in. My heart beat faster,
even though we'd hardly said a word to each other
since he started at the Academy our freshman year.
Although our school uniform required formal
wear, he looked like he had stepped off the farm
with his swagger and confidence. Not to mention
the scar over his right eyebrow and tan from
working outside. He looked every bit as fit as an
athlete, and a part of me recognized all the hard
work he must have done to earn those muscles.
He sat easily in his seat down the row from me.
“Hey,” I said. What did I have to lose? My free‐
dom? That was gone. My pride? What pride?
His lips carved a smile on his chiseled face,
which was way more delicious than my breakfast.
“Hey, Ginger.”
My heart stalled, sputtered to a stop, not only
because he knew my name but because of the
incredible way it rolled off his lips. Realizing he was
waiting for a reply, I said, “How was New Year's?”
“Good.” He shrugged. “Didn't see you at
Merritt’s party.”
My heart lifted. He noticed I’d been gone? “Did
you get out the guitar?” I remembered him playing
at a party on the beach a while back. The skilled
way he’d run his hands over the strings still had my
breath kicking up a notch.
“Of course,” he said. “I don’t go anywhere
without Betsy.”
“Betsy?”
“My guitar.”
A smile came easily. “You named it?”
“Of course. You don’t name your video
camera?”
“Oh, it has a name.” I bluffed.
“What is it?”
Crap. “Um, Cannon.”
The soundwaves of his laugher rolled through
my chest, and I realized I had made him laugh.
Made him smile.
“Rain check?” he asked. “Maybe I can take you
out to dinner and play for you.”
Was Ray asking me out? If it wasn’t a date, it
was definitely date-adjacent. I had to play it cool,
but Ray’s simmering blue eyes waiting for my
answer made it hard. “Sure,” I said lightly. “If I
don’t have to work. The glamorous life of a store
owner’s child.”
He chuckled. “I get that. What store?”
It struck me that I, Ginger Nash, nerdy AV girl,
was having an actual conversation with Ray Sadler.
The school’s hottest (and only) cowboy. And he
actually laughed at something I said. Could this get
any better?
“Ripe,” I answered. “It’s a health food store
near Emerson Shoppes.”
His eyes widened in recognition.
“You've heard of it?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of it,” he said. But it
didn't sound like a good thing.
I was about to ask him why when Jordan walked
into the classroom and sat by me.
“Maybe you can't live in the dorms,” she said,
“but you can definitely hang out this Saturday,
right? Kai and I think we should start a movie night
at his house.”
Ray had already turned his eyes away from me,
but my question for him remained.
