Page 47 of A Second Chance for the Beta

The apartment is so spacious. Sometimes, Dante and Ella discuss moving to one of the houses, but they both seem to like their flat, and so do I. It’s modern with lots of space. There are many people around us, yet when we leave the packhouse, we are amidst nature. It has the best of both worlds for me.

I rummage a bit through the place and finally decide to check out the second balcony on the second floor. I have not been there yet. Somehow, I always forgot about it. I take my sketchbook and the pens Dante and Ella gifted me when I started school here.

The balcony is small and comfy as opposed to the spacious one on the first floor. It’s awesome that they actually have a two-floor apartment. So fancy.

I make myself comfortable on a soft chair and start doodling in my sketchbook. I’m all into anime recently and love drawing my own anime characters. I’ve drawn myself already, and then go on to draw an anime version of my friends and then of Dante and Ella. Oh, this reminds me, I could make a whole little comic about the pack and my life here.

That would be fun!

With newfound motivation and finally a real project in mind, I start to work. When it gets a bit too cool to sit outside, I head back inside, deciding to take a break. I check out the other rooms on the floor until I stumble into the last one. It almost feels like an attic. It’s a room with lots of sunlight, and there are lots of pictures there. I didn’t know Ella and Dante are collecting paintings. One of them is of a middle-aged man throwing a little girl into the air and catching her again.

Something about it touches my heart.

“That’s my dad, your grandfather.” Ella’s voice suddenly reaches me, making me spin around in surprise. She steps closer, her gaze on the painting. “And the girl is me. I was a baby when he died, and we never shared this moment, but in my mind, this is how it would have been if we lived a normal family life.” She rummages through some other paintings and shows me one of her… and Mom. And then there is one with Mom and a little girl, which I assume is me because she is dressed in a cute dress with little owls on it. “It helps,” Ella says quietly. “To imagine how it would be if they were still around us.”

“I like this in particular,” I say quietly, pointing at a painting with Ella, Mom, and me on it. We are all at a lake. I’m jumping into the water while Mom and Ella are dangling their feet in it.

“Why don’t you take it for your room?” Ella offers. “It’s yours if you like it.”

“Really!?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you paint them?” I ask quietly.

Ella nods. “Art was my main subject at college.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say.

“You draw too, don’t you?” Ella says, gesturing towards my sketchbook.

Suddenly I feel self-conscious. “It’s just doodling. Nothing compared to your talent. Mine are just comics.”

“And?” Ella asks. “It’s still art. And I, for one, love comics.”

“It’s mostly manga style,” I admit. “I… I’m working on two little projects,” I explain, deciding not to tell her about how I wanted to draw us and instead talk about my second project. “I’m drawing a magical girl manga. It’s silly.”

“What’s it about?” Ella wants to know.

“A young girl that can turn into an owl at night,” I explain. “She fights for children in need and is never afraid.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Ella says to my surprise. “If you ever feel like showing me, I’d feel honored.” She pauses. “Why do you like owls so much?”

“Because they are cool,” I say. “Okay, they are not as smart as other birds, but they are persistent and hard to get rid of. They are hunters; they aren’t the prey. They can be active at night and turn their head 180°. And they can fly. Isn’t it amazing to be able to fly? To stretch your wings and just fly into the sky.”

Ella stays silent for a while before she nods. “I see why you like them.” She smiles. “But now come, dinner is ready. That’s why I was looking for you in the first place.”

“Ella,” I say before she can turn around and leave.

Ella turns around and eyes me curiously. “Yes?”

I swallow down my pride. “Sorry for always worrying you and for punching that idiot in school. I knew it was stupid. And sorry for being such a little shit sometimes.”

Ella grins. “You are really something,” she says. “It’s okay. Let’s try to do better next time.”

“Got you,” I say.

Ella has made a casserole for dinner. It looks slightly overcooked, judging by the burnt cheese on top. Dante and I exchange a short gaze but don’t say anything. Ella hates cooking, but she said she wanted to try to make more home-cooked stuff for me. If it were up to me, we could eat with the pack anytime, but something tells me this is important for her.