Page 63 of Loving Ladybug: Part One
“There’s my room.” He pointed to a door that was cracked open. “Here’s yours.”
The room was set up like a basic, pleasant guest room, with a comfortable-looking bed, a dresser, a desk, and anincredibleview of the city. There were also a bunch of weights, some resistance bands on the chair.
“I’ll move my stuff. We can go to Home Things, too. Tonight, tomorrow, Sunday, whenever. Then you can choose sheets, towels and pillows, all that. We’ll either order a car or borrow Dimitri’s.” He put my bags on the chair.
“Clark. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” I set the box on the desk and wrapped my arms around him. It was a lot. Oh, maybe Home Things had a coupon.
“You’re so fucking welcome, Ladybug.” He squeezed me tight. “That’s what friends are for. Also, I found beautiful editions of the Intrepid Space Explorer Series for you. They won’t replace the ones he ruined, but they’re nice.”
“You did? Thank you.” I brightened. He remembered? Those books had meant a lot to me in my teenage years and one of the few things I’d brought with me when my name had been changed and I’d been hidden. They were my comfort books.
“What’s in the box? Not trying to pry, but it's pretty.” He eyed the carved wooden box I’d put on the desk. It was a decent size; a little larger than a box of skates.
“Something I found after you helped me clean everything up. I figured Austin took it out of spite.” Which was weird. Wrecking everything in here would hurt me a lot.
Not as much as losing my only picture of my mom though.
I opened the metal latches on the box my host dad in Rockland had made me when I graduated high school.
“It’s my hockey box. Here’s my ring I got for winning the NYIT championship this year.” I handed him the little velvet box. Because of NACA rules, they weren’t very expensive. The golden ring sparkled with maroon and gold stones–the Kings’ colors and had our logo and the year. My name and position was inscribed on the inside.
“That is so cool,” Clark said. “I have one from my community college division win.”
“Me, too.” We’d won our respective community college divisions the same year. I handed him that box, too. That ring was much nicer. My community college wasn’t under NACA rules. The alumni association had gone wild, springing for nice rings and an amazing party.
“I wonder what the Knights’ championship rings will look like,” he added. Since the Knights had won the PHL championship they’d get rings when the team had a dinner for them in the fall, when the team officially got the championship cup for the year.
Though the cup had been taking turns with the members of the team. Carlos had posted pictures of Lucky in it when it was his turn. Clark had taken it for a ride on a tractor.
“I have my jerseys from both those wins, too,” I added. Signed by the team. I brought those out, along with my other team jerseys, most signed, from high school, junior hockey, and the youth international team I’d played on one summer.
There was also the shirt I’d gotten the time I’d attended a developmental camp for the Mexico City Tigres–and one from a high school camp the Rockland Daredevils ran. I also had some signed pucks; including a couple from before I’d been Gwen that I couldn’t bear to leave behind.
“Is this Callahan?” He held up a signed Knights puck.
I nodded. He was almost as good as Maria Barilla and had been a Knight, too. “My nonna and her neighbors brought me to games sometimes.”
“I’m so happy your ex didn’t ruin your special mementos. We could always display things if you want.” He looked at the bare walls.
Display things? Was I staying? Though I wouldn’t be mad if he kept my broke ass all year.
“Why don’t I help you put everything away before we go eat?” he offered.
“Thank you. I have the best friends.”
For that, I was grateful.
Chapter Twenty
Gwen
Ismoothed my hands over the lavender beaded dress, which had a high slit, a low back, and vintage feel, as I swished back and forth, getting a look at myself in the full-length mirror. Yeah, I looked cute.
My hair caught my eye. The stylist had given me a chin-length fluffy cut, which had been dyed amethyst purple, and a little layered to help my undercut grow out. I wasn’t sure if it was the retro way she’d styled it, or how they’d waxed my eyebrows and done my makeup, but I looked a lot like my nonna when she was young.
I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Part of me still feared being noticed. Still, I wasn’t going to make it as a hockey player ifI didn’t put myself out there. I had to step into the light and hope my dads didn’t notice me, until I was too big to mess with.
Of course, I was flattering myself. The dads probably knew exactly where I was. Hopefully, they’d continue to leave me alone so I could live my life. I texted Clark a picture.
