“Isabella Bradshaw!”
“Agh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
That little girl’s potty mouth will get her in so much trouble.
“I wanted a fresh start,” she mutters. “I was about to start high school, and everyone knew Dad. The people who didn’t knew he had a daughter named Bella, who was starting high school, and everyone was basically walking on eggshells. I was a freshman; that’s hard enough, but then I was also the daughter of the teacher who died, at school—at that school, actually. It wasa lot, so I introduced myself as Izzy. I like it, and my friends like it too.”
I wipe away a tear.
“Please don’t cry. This is why I didn’t tell you. You already carry so much. This one is on me.”
“Honey, it’s not your job to watch out for what I can handle. I cry, okay? I’m a crier. I’m fine with that. But what I need from you is to tell me these things. I’m sorry you were hurting.”
“I’m always hurting, Mom. It hurts.” She looks out the window. She’s being so vulnerable, even with Holden here, so she must trust him.
I’m glad she does. I’m glad she has him in her life too, even if I didn’t know.
“I know.” God, my poor girl. “But at least you wouldn’t be hurting alone. We can hurt together.”
“That is so depressing.”
“No, sweetie, not depressing. Sad." I sink into my seat, closing my eyes and letting the cool air caress my cheeks. “It’s okay to be sad, though.”
“I know.”
Time passes, and nobody talks, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s more like the car is a buffer for the space we all need in this moment. “So now that you know about the whole Izzy thing, can you not call me that? I like to be Izzy at school and Bella at home. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. It’s your name. Whatever you want, I’m happy to do, especially if I can still call you sweetie pie.”
“Please don’t. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“But you’ll be my baby forever.” I open one eye to find her rolling hers, covering her chest with her arms, a soft smile spreading on her face. That’s a lot better.
“Hey, Coach Clay?”
“Mmhmm?” It’s the first time Holden has made a sound since we got in the car.
“Can we, like, not talk about the whole I got my period and my mom’s new boyfriend, who is also my coach, had to come get me ever again?”
He coughs.
I gasp. “Bella, I did not tell him what happened.”
“Well, great. I need a do over. Can I call a do over? Can I go to sleep? Wake me up when September ends, please.”
He chuckles this time. “You like Green Day?”
“She loves Green Day,” I reply. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Sure, sure.” She places her bag over her face.
“I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t have said anything either way. I promise, you’re safe with me. Even though there’s nothing wrong with getting your period.”
“Please stop. Stop. Thanks, but I’m done. I need a hole in the ground so I can fall into it and stay there forever. Hockey? Who needs hockey? I don’t have to go ever again.”
“That would make me really sad, actually. I enjoy coaching you.”
She groans, and I let out a quiet laugh.
