Be Strong & Curvaceous Read Free Page B

probably if I said anything, she’d get all uneasy about it, and it would mess up what they had going.
    Better to mind my own business.
    And what was I doing thinking about art and boys, anyway, when I was supposed to be thinking about prayer circle?
    I sat next to Lissa just as the door opened and Shani Hanna came in, with Jeremy right behind her.
    “Hey!” Gillian grabbed her in a hug, and hugged Jeremy, too, for good measure. Not that I noticed him complaining. “Did you just get here?”
    “Yeah. There was so much traffic coming north from the airport that I thought I’d miss it. How are you guys?” Shani hugged each of us in turn. Today her hair was french-braided in a circle like a crown around her head. It suited her perfectly.
    “Great, now that you’re here.” I grinned at her. “Are you sure you don’t keep a personal stylist in your closet?”
    “No kidding,” Lissa said. “No human female can be this good with her own hair. You have a different ’do every time I look at you.”
    “Ease up,” Shani said, pretending to hide behind her hands. “I told Gillian when I was at her place. I spent, like, thousands of hours on my own when I was a kid. The housemaids used to hang out with me, and we had this mini-salon going in my bedroom. We’d spend hours learning how to do hair and makeup and reading
Essence
and
Cosmo
by the inch.”
    I thought of the way our place had been when I was a kid. Noisy, flamboyant, with relatives coming and going all the time. My dad had bought his parents a house down the street from us with his first million, and their place was the same as ours. No relative was allowed to come through the San Jose airport without at least staying overnight. And since my grandparents each had half a dozen siblings, that made for a lot of houseguests.
    Now we’re down to three bedrooms and two baths in the condo, and my grandparents are gone and the houses sold. Even so, when Dad is in town, we have a lot of company. Poor Shani. From what she’d told me, growing up in that big mansion in Chicago must have been like growing up in a walk-in freezer. She did pretty well for being brought up by housemaids moonlighting as nannies, if you ask me. On top of a great sense of style and genius with her hair, she’s sassy, smart, and has a comeback for everything.
    She and Gillian are just the way I’d like to be. Fearless.
    Again with the monkey brain. I needed to settle my thoughts. What was wrong with me? It was like my mind was doing total God avoidance. Not that I was really trying to avoid Him. But you know how it is with big decisions. You put them off until they either go away, solve themselves . . . or become Really Big Issues. I seemed to have arrived at door number three while I was aiming at doors one and two. Which happens a lot with me.
    “It’s seven, you guys,” Gillian said. “Let’s get started. I guess we don’t have to do intros this time, do we?”
    We joined hands and Gillian started us off. As she prayed, I felt myself squeezing Lissa’s and Jeremy’s hands tighter and tighter. Shani passed. After her came Jeremy. I only had a few minutes to make up my mind—to walk up to that choice and face it head-on. To say yes—or no.
    Poor Jeremy. As he finished praying, he gently tried to take his hand out of mine. I’d squeezed so hard it had turned red.
    I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
    Ten seconds went by. I tried again. Nada.
    “Carly?” Gillian asked softly. “Are you okay?”
    “I don’t know,” I managed. “Just give me a minute.”
    They did. Lissa’s hand squeezed mine with reassurance. “Father,” her voice came strong and sure, “please reach out and put Your hands around Carly. She needs You.”
    And suddenly I knew that was the answer. As simple as that—I needed God. And He, for some reason, needed me, too. And wasn’t that the coolest thing?
    “Father,” I said, my voice getting stronger with every word, “thank You for