“I prefermotivationally assertive,” she said with a wink, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
After she left, the house was quiet again, but not empty the way it used to feel.
I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the little desk by the window. The sketchpad was right where I’d left it, buried under unopened mail.
I hesitated only a moment before flipping it open.
My pencil moved almost on its own, the way it used to. A circle. A line. A swoop of motion.
When I looked down, a tiny roller derby girl stared back at me. She was all elbow pads and fierce grin, hair flying behind her as she skated full speed toward something just out of frame.
I smiled. For the first time in a long time, drawing didn’t hurt.
It felt like breathing.
8
ELEANOR
The smell hit us before we even parked. Charcoal and grilled meat and sunshine on fresh-cut grass filled the air.
Ava pressed her face to the window, frowning slightly. “It’s loud.”
“It’s happy loud,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “You’ll see.”
Belle had texted directions to the Grim Reapers’ “Spring Picnic,” which turned out to be more of afestival.A dozen tents dotted the park, each one buzzing with laughter. Kids zipped past on roller skates, music played from a portable speaker, and the air shimmered with that warm, messy kind of joy that happens when people actually like being together.
I pulled into a spot under a tree. “Okay, bug. Ready?”
Ava shrugged, fiddling with her headphones. “Maybe.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
We climbed out, the grass soft beneath our feet. Belle waved from near the grills, wearing a tank top that saidBruise Controlin glittery purple letters and holding a plate of burgers like a trophy.
“Eleanor! Ava!” she shouted. “You made it!”
Ava gave a tiny wave, half hiding behind me.
Belle grinned and pointed her spatula toward the food tables. “We’ve got burgers, dogs, and pork chops. Drinks and sides are over there, and Mel’s famous chili, chaos is everywhere else. Welcome to the family.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “It smells amazing.”
“That’s because I’m cooking,” Belle said proudly. “Now grab a plate before Sonia steals the last potato salad.”
As if summoned, a woman with a buzzed haircut and aviator sunglasses walked by, holding a paper plate stacked precariously high. “It’s not stealing,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s strategic preemption.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “Sonia!” she called. “Save some for the civilians!”
A woman turned with kind eyes and a sharp grin. “You must be Eleanor. Belle’s been talking about you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” Becca said with a laugh, offering her hand. “I’m Becca. My wife, Mel, is wrangling our son somewhere . . . small human, rainbow tutu, theatrical tendencies?”
I smiled. “Leo. We met at the Penguin Project rehearsal.”
Her grin widened. “Oh, then you’ve met my favorite chaos gremlin. Good. He’s somewhere near the snow cone stand. If you hear singing, follow it.”
