Curvy Girls Can't Date Point Guards
Chapter One
Sadie
Forget birthdays or Christmas—this was the real holiday. The day I could walk into the guidance counselor's office and talk about my plans for after high school. We were one day closer to me leaving Emerson Academy and never going back.
It wasn’t that high school was absolutely atrocious for me or that I was picked on endlessly; it was more the constant feeling of being out of place, like everyone there was oil, and I was water, separate somehow. I lived life from the outside looking in, but in college, that would change.
Everyone seemed to promise that college would be this new place with people like me, who would understand me, see the world in the way that I did. So instead of glooming and dooming over high school, I looked forward.
That is, until I got distracted by the squeak of sneakers.
I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t seen the open gym doors ahead. I stepped toward the opening, thinking it was a little late for gym and little early for basketball practice. But when I reached the doors, I saw Terrell was in there shooting hoops alone.
I found myself captivated by the way he held the ball in his large hands, how he easily dribbled it on the floor without ever once even looking at it. It was like the ball was connected to him by an invisible string, under his complete control.
He pounded the ball over golden hardwood floors, driving toward the basket, and then shot from a corner of the free-throw line. Orange rubber sailed through the air, then went through the net with a snap.
The ball crashed to ground with a boom, then another before he jogged to pick it up. As if he could feel me watching him, he turned his dark brown eyes on me.
My cheeks instantly flushed, and I felt like the deer in the headlight staring at him but not knowing how to look away. If I hid away, I’d look that much guiltier. But staring his way only made my fascination more obvious. Not that it helped me look away.
He was too bright, too handsome—tall with a muscular body, perfectly cut hair...
His lips easily lifted into a smile, making even harder to breathe. “First game’s not ‘til next week,” he called with a cheeky grin.
If I could melt into the floor, I’d be a puddle amongst the flecked tiles.
Instead, I stood still while he looked away from me, breaking the spell to take another shot.
Meanwhile, I continued my path to the counselor’s office so embarrassed puddling on the floor was the preferable option.
As if my turquoise hair and awkward silence wasn’t enough—now I was a dopey stalker too. Great.
Birdie Bardot's office door was open, and the closer I got, the better I could hear her talking to her pet bird. “Ralphie, I really thought that you would like this new food. Why are you so picky?”
He squawked softly, and she tsked at him. “Fine, I’ll go back to the far store and buy the other brand.”
He cooed happily as if he was actually replying to her.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, even if it was between a bird and a teacher, I knocked on the wooden door frame.
I heard the rustling of feathers and then Birdie called, “You're right on time Sadie.”
I peeked through the doorway to find her closing the cage door, home to her large white bird with dark eyes and a grayish beak. My chest tightened a little bit like it always did at the start of a conversation, but I reminded myself that I was okay. “I'm looking forward to this meeting,” I said truthfully. “I’ve been dreaming of studying marine biology in Hawaii since I was seven years old.”
“That's great,” she replied. “We have a lot to cover, so let's get started. Will you close the door?”
Its hinges creaked as I did. “Did you get the application materials I put in your mailbox?”
In response, she flipped open a manilla folder and held up several sheets of paper. “Sadie, your essay may be one of the best I’ve ever read. The way you compared social anxiety to marine life was so creative and unique. However, I have some concerns about your letters of recommendation...”
The high I was on from her compliment quickly turned into a nosedive that had my heart sputtering and smoking toward the ground. “What do you mean?”
She flattened her hands on her desk. “I mean, this program is extremely competitive. One of the things they list as a priority is a record of collaborative work, but there wasn't anything in your recommendations about participation, or contributing to classroom discussions, no extracurricular activities outside of ones that you could do on your own.”
My stare was blanker than a slate of beach wiped even from a wave. “No one ever told me I had to do extracurriculars with other people.”
With a soft smile, she said, “I understand the confusion, and I'm sorry that we didn't catch this earlier. And honestly, your list of extracurriculars is quite impressive. Donating art supplies to local Children's Hospital, community cleanups... and I've seen what a great friend you've been to April since she moved here. However, not a lot of people have had a chance to get to know you the way that April has.”
My eyes were already stinging because I knew what was coming before she even said it. “So, what does this mean?” I asked anyway.
She looked down at her desk and folded her hands together, drawing my gaze to her fingernails painted pink with white daisies. “I think to have the strongest application, you need a stellar recommendation from a teacher or coach that you’re a team player, unless you have a reputable reference from outside of school. Have you worked any jobs?”
I shook my head. “I've helped at my parents’ art studio, but that's about it.”
Birdie nodded slowly. “And all your extracurriculars have been self-initiated. Which is amazing, and that’s reflected in your other letters, but it doesn't show you play well with others.”
I swallowed down the California-sized lump in my throat. “But my applications are due soon. How am I supposed to prove I can do that in the next two months? How will someone get to know me well enough?”
Her pink nails tapped on cherry-stained oak. After several beats, she said, “If you help someone with a problem that they have, they can speak to what you've been able to accomplish. Actions speak louder than words, right?”
“So, I need to find a problem that a grown adult is having trouble solving and fix it for them?” I deadpanned. “Great.”
Birdie cackled and then quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry you just have such a way of cutting to the point. And cut to the point you did. Because that's exactly what I want you to do.”
“And if I don't?”
Birdie looked down to all my application materials. “You can take your chances with these letters, but you may not get the results you want, especially when applying to such a competitive program.”
“I’ll make it work,” I said. Even though I had absolutely no idea how. I didn’t even like sitting in the lunchroom with all my school because it was too overwhelming and put me on edge. How was I supposed to find a teacher to help without it clearly being a way for me to get a letter and not a way to actually make a difference?
Birdie’s large daisy earrings swayed with a tilt of her head. “I know it seems impossible.”
I scoffed because she hit that nail on the head.
“But I think you need to give yourself the chance to surprise yourself.”
Ralphie cooed softly from his cage like he agreed.
Tears pricked at my eyes. “The only ‘surprise’ is that I spent the last four years doing everything I thought I needed to do only to discover it wasn't good enough.” But maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise. I wasn’t talkative enough or comfortable enough in a group to show I could be anything other than a loner.
But if I wanted to go to the college of my choice? It looked like that was exactly what I needed to do.
