Push Girl
Authors: Chelsie Hill,Jessica Love
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Special Needs, #Love & Romance, #Family, #Parents, #New Experience
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I would like to dedicate this book to those who have been affected by drinking and driving, a heartbreak, or are feeling like they have lost the only thing that matters. I want people to know that even if they feel like they have lost the only thing that matters, there is still hope. I hope this book inspires people of all ages to never give up!
—CHELSIE HILL
To my grandmother, Ruth MacDonald, for her unflinching, unwavering, and unconditional love.
—JESSICA LOVE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Endless thanks to my agent, Jill Corcoran, for your belief in me from Day 1, and to Kat Brzozowski and Brendan Deneen, rock-star editors. Working with you all has been a dream.
To Chelsie Hill, thank you for trusting me with your experiences. It was such a pleasure to work with you on bringing Kara’s story to life.
To Elizabeth Briggs and Katy Upperman, my saints and saviors. Your brilliant advice, constant cheerleading, and words of wisdom kept me grounded and going when I needed it most. There aren’t enough thank-yous in the world for everything you’ve done for me, so I hope hugs, cupcakes, and exclamation point–filled e-mails will suffice.
To my Indisputably Awesome girls and my NBC Writers, thank you all for being my support system and my sounding board. Your endless patience for my ridiculous questions and your understanding and encouragement at any time of the day or night are what keeps my head above water and a smile on my face, even when all seems lost.
Finally, to my parents for nurturing my creativity in every form from the second I was born, and to my husband for understanding that I really was doing something productive when I sat on the couch with my laptop for hours on end. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your love.
—JESSICA LOVE
CONTENTS
push girl
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sh 'g
r(-)l\
noun
1. A fierce, fearless woman who doesn’t let life’s challenges get in the way of what she wants.
2. Anyone who overcomes adversity with a never-say-die attitude and sense of humor.
CHAPTER 1
Even a perfect boy was allowed a flaw or two.
At least, that was what I tried to tell myself as I stood outside my dance studio alone, waiting for Curt to pick me up. He wasn’t always late, only when he lost track of time at the gym. So I don’t even know that I’d call his tardiness a flaw, really. More like a small blemish.
But still, it sucked waving good-bye to all my dance friends and saying, “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. You don’t have to stick around for me.” Especially because I wasn’t actually sure when he was going to show up, since I’d spaced and left my phone in his truck when he dropped me off earlier.
But it’s not like he’d actually forget about me. He did that only one time, and it was totally an accident.
Craning my neck to get a look at every vehicle that pulled into the parking lot was making me into a crazy person, so I decided to keep myself busy by running through the routine I’d just spent the past hour rehearsing. It was a lyrical dance for the upcoming fall recital, and the other seniors and I each had pretty significant solos during the middle of it. I started taking myself through the moves, but the dance studio was in a shopping center with a grocery store, a nail salon, and an insurance office. Not exactly the ideal location to break it down in the parking lot. So instead of a full double pirouette as I moved through the routine, I pulled my right foot up to my opposite knee and rose on my left toe, hitting the fingers on my right hand to my left palm twice. A pointed toe hovered just above ground level for a beat to indicate a kick; a small kick with my hands out to either side for a jeté.
My muscles ached to dance full out, to kick as high as I could and leap up into the air, but the sidewalk wasn’t the place for a show. If only my class wasn’t the last one of the night; actually practicing in the studio would have been a much more productive use of my time.
I’d run through the entire routine four times by the time Curt pulled his lifted truck into the parking lot, honking the whole way.
“Finally,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag from the ground and walking toward the passenger side. But I rearranged my face into a smile when I crawled up into his truck.
“Sorry I’m a little late, babe,” he said after kissing me on the cheek. “Today was back and shoulders, and you know how I get into those lat pulldowns.”
“It’s cool.” It wasn’t cool, but one look at Curt Mitchell’s big brown eyes and rock-solid biceps made me forget my irritation over waiting alone almost thirty minutes as the streetlights flickered on. I could never stay mad at him. What could I say? His hotness did strange things to my head.
“You left your phone.” He cocked his head toward the center console. “It was beeping at me the whole way over here.”
Huh, that wasn’t normal. Usually the only person who ever blew up my cell was Curt. However, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he had texted me a bunch of times and then wondered what that beepy noise in his truck was. I grabbed my phone from the console and scrolled through my texts.
“So, how was rehearsal?” he asked, turning the volume down on the playlist I’d made for him. “Learn any new moves?”
“Great,” I said, not looking up. “The lyrical is really coming together. I need to do some more work on my solo, though.” I spared him the specifics, since I was pretty sure he cared about the details of my dancing about as much as I cared about hearing the play-by-play of his lat pulldowns.
“What’s so interesting over there?” He jabbed a playful elbow into my shoulder. “You’re staring at your phone like it holds all the answers to life’s problems. Everything okay?”
The texts waiting for me weren’t interesting. They were annoying. My mom, whose only job seemed to be keeping her nose up in my business at all times, wanted me home immediately after I left the studio, but she didn’t give a reason. Looked like no post-rehearsal make-out time for me and Curt today, since we were already running late. Thanks for the salt in my game, Mom. Then, one from my kinda-sorta best friend Amanda, and my ex-boyfriend Jack with another one of his ridiculous “fun facts.”
1
IN 5,000 NORTH AMERICAN LOBSTERS ARE BORN BLUE. HAPPY FRIDAY!
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just a bunch of stuff I don’t want to deal with.” I tossed my phone into my bag and kicked it for good measure. “But I do need to go straight home. Looks like Dance Mom’s in a mood again.”
Curt shook his head. “What’s up with her lately? She’s really cracking down on you.”
“Oh, it’s always something with her and Dad these days. They’re fighting like cats and dogs.” I stuck my thumbnail into my mouth and chewed on it for a second. “Do your parents do that? Fight?” Curt and I had been a couple for almost a year now—eight months and three weeks, to be exact—and after we got home from hanging out at school, we would text and chat online and talk on the phone almost all night. For some reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to share anything serious with him. I’d try to bring up my parents or things that were bothering me, but I’d always chicken out as soon as the conversation got too real.
