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I feel the tension coiling tighter inside me, butthey're right. Kids should be free to enjoy the game, not weighed down by adult battles. "I get it," I say, softer this time, "the last thing we want is to make our kids pay for adult issues."
"Exactly," Jessica agrees, her expression softening.
"Anyway," I shift gears, stuffing down my distaste for anything connected to Victor Stone, "I'm organizing weekly meetings for those who want to fight the development. We need to stand together on this. You guys in?"
"Of course," Samantha says firmly. "Anything to help."
"Same here," Jessica chimes in, "though I'll have to juggle it with the hockey practice schedule."
"Understandable," I nod, knowing all too well the struggle of balancing acts. "We'll figure it out. The more voices we have, the louder we'll be heard."
"Absolutely," Samantha affirms. "We've got to at least try, right?"
"Right," I echo.
The school bell's shrill ring cuts through our conversation, and suddenly, a swarm of kids bursts from the school doors. I crane my neck, scanning for that familiar mop of chestnut curls that match my own. Then I spot her—Olivia, my little clone, with those same bright brown eyes that seem to catch every sliver of autumn sunlight.
"Mommy!" Her voice carries over the din as sherushes toward me, backpack bobbing with each enthusiastic stride.
"Hey, sweetie." I sweep her up into a bear hug, feeling her small arms wrap around my waist in a grip that could rival any superhero's. She smells of crayons and the faintest hint of the cafeteria's pizza day.
"Hi, Ms. Samantha, Ms. Jessica, Ms. Emily," Olivia chirps, releasing me just enough to wave at the other moms, who are now enveloped in their own reunions.
"Hi, Olivia," they answer in chorus, smiles lighting up their faces as they corral their own offspring.
Together, we all funnel out of the school gate and into the parking lot. The buzz among the kids is electric, their excitement about the hockey team palpable even from several feet away. Olivia's gaze flits between me and the group of her peers gushing over positions and goals—I can tell she's drinking in every word.
"Bye, Avery! See you next week?" Samantha calls out, herding her son toward their much newer SUV.
"Wouldn't miss it," I reply, waving them off before ushering Olivia toward our old Corolla. It sits there in the corner of the lot, paint faded to a dull blue that whispers tales of years gone by.
"Okay, Bessie," I murmur, patting the car's hood affectionately before sliding in behind the wheel. The engine groans to life after a second of coaxing, a familiar symphony of clinks and clatters joining the hum.
"How was school, Liv?"
I glance at her in the rearview mirror, catching the slight furrow in her brow. "Good, but..." She hesitates, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her seatbelt. "I have something I want to tell you."
"What is it, sweetie?" I ask her.
I can sense her trepidation, and I try to give her some encouragement. "Whatever it is, I promise we'll handle it!"
She lets out a dramatic puff of air and then says the last thing I thought I'd ever hear out of my child's mouth. "I want to play hockey this year."
Chapter Five
Avery
As I pullinto the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, I twist in my seat to steal a glance at Olivia. She's got her knees pulled up to her chin, which is classic for my usually shy ten-year-old. Her big eyes are hidden behind a fringe that's gotten too long again.
"I think that's great, sweetheart," I say, trying to keep it light.
She tucks a wayward curl behind her ear before looking up at me, and I'm hit by a wave of surprise—Olivia prefers to listen rather than speak up, but today there's an unusual spark in her gaze.
"Mom," she begins, her voice steadier than usual, "you know that I can tell when you're fibbing, right?"
I shake my head and smile. Even at ten years old, she's already got me figured out.
"You got me," I tease her. "I guess I'm just shocked, is all. You've never wanted to play sports before."