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My happy place had always been by the ice rink, it wasn’t so much wanting to play on it as it was the way the air was always a bit chilly, obviously because it was close to the ice, but it also held a special place for sense memories. My dad would always take me to games, and they were always so exhilarating.

Part of me knew it was possible for the Orcas, the college team to show up and play, but since school hadn’t even started up again, I figured the chance was slim.

I’d been in the middle of writing up ideas I could pitch for the college paper, The Caldwell Chronicle. I’d managed to get into the paper at the end of the last semester, there was a lot of hoops to jump through and submitting an article, which didn’t get published, but they must’ve seen some promise in me to give me that opportunity.

Bloo kept me company in the stands, but as soon as the team began playing and shouting at one and other, I had to leave. It was like being back at the diner, unsure if they were looking at me at all, and sweat trickling from my brow trying to avoid raising my eyes to see them. And when I did, I locked eyes with them.

“You finished up already?” Michael, the ice hockey coach said to me as I walked past him in the stands.

“Yeah, I was just um—catching the essence of the rink,” I said. “I’m hoping I’ll be able to write for the sports section of the college paper. I just wanted to see where the best place to watch the games from were.”

“Always up by the glass,” he said. “That’s where the real magic happens.”

My teeth clenched. That’s where I’d always be sat with my dad, right up near the glass. One of the earliest memories I had was smacking the glass and then one of the players went flying up into it, scaring me, but only because he busted his face, and I think he lost a tooth as well.

“But if you are serious about reporting for the team, you should chat with the captain,” he added, gesturing to the tall, handsome man in the number ten jersey. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to give you a statement even.”

“Right. I’m not even sure if they’ll assign me to the team, but I’ll make my case,” I said. I was torn from wanting to be in the stands, secretly reporting, to the coach now knowing who I was, and him forcing me into being social with the team captain. I’d probably become mute in the moment.

“I haven’t seen anyone else come in doing research, so if you want a word putting in, I can,” he said.

He didn’t even know me, and yet, he was almost willing to go to bat for me with the college paper. I thanked him and before I could really break down into a puddle on the floor, I walked off, but not through the entrance I’d come, through another door that looked just like the exit. It was the back of the rink where the offices and locker rooms were.

I kept my head down and walked right through it until I came out on the other side. I’d completely lost where I was from the mental map I’d made. Luckily, the campus was well signposted, and I made my way back to the center of the campus where I found a nice bench to sit.

My phone rang, and it was my mom. After the third ring, I answered.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m doing fine, just getting all my stuff ready.”

“ Hey, honeybun, you didn’t text back last night. I got a little worried, didn’t call the cops though. ” She laughed it off like it was something she hadn’t done before. She had, twice.

“I texted you back, I just didn’t text back again.” I held Bloo close. to my chest, running my fingers across the light bumps the crochet loops formed. I tried counting them as my mom talked at length about whether I needed anything and telling me, once more about all the perils of independent living and the type of laundry detergent I needed to buy because of the time when I was six and I got a rash. “Oh, mom, sorry, I’ve got to go. The shuttle bus is coming, and I need to go grab groceries.” The shuttle bus really was approaching.

“ One last thing, if you do buy a bike, buy a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads, because you know you can never be too safe, ” she said, as if it wasn’t already ingrained in my brain and behind my eyelids.

“I will, I promise. Love you.”

“ Love you more, honeybun. ”

Hanging up, I always felt this cool air wash over me. Relief, but I felt bad for that. She was only doing what she knew best, and I couldn’t hold that against her.

My brain was a ball of mush by the time I was back at the house, going over everything, again and again, repeating scenarios like someone had a sour taste in their mouth because of something I said or did. Like, leaving the ice rink. I didn’t know if they took it as a sign of disrespect.

It wouldn’t leave my mind, but after getting back to the house, it was quickly replaced with my housemates who encouraged me to hang out. They wanted to get to know me, and I couldn’t say no to them again, I’d already told them no last night.

Donna, Tara, Elliot, and Sam, they were already such a strong friendship group. I didn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes by trying to become one of them, and I also didn’t want to tread on my own toes by committing too much time to them, especially when the friendship wasn’t going to last.

The four of them were in the dining room. Donna had her MacBook open, Elliot, I think, had a large stack of science texts in front of him, and Sam and Tara both had fresh notepads. I felt like I was becoming part of a study group, for a class that hadn’t even started, and I hadn’t joined.

“So, what are you studying?” Donna asked. “When we texted, you mentioned writing, so are you on the creative writing classes?”

I nodded before blurting. “Yeah, it’s my minor, I’m studying journalism, you know, something that could get me a job once I graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Everyone is always so worried about finding a job the minute school is over,” he grumbled. “Just enjoy live and do what you want. Don’t put so much pressure on it.”

Tara scoffed and whacked at Sam’s arm. “Do not listen to him. He’s on a sports scholarship, so he’s going to coast by while we’re buckling down and getting work done.”

“What sport?” I asked.

“Track and field,” he said, nodding he head with a big smile. “I’m pretty fast.”

“And now, he can’t hustle you,” Elliot said, looking over his stack of textbooks at me. “He’s always challenging people to foot races in exchange for stuff, like he nearly had me out of a hundred bucks when we first met. And I love to run.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t recruited to run track here,” Sam said.

I knew it was only playful bickering, but it had me hunching at the shoulders, wishing to cover my ears and cringing internally. “I’m gonna head out, actually, I need to go grab groceries.”

“If you grab candy, please keep it in your room,” Elliot said.

Looking around the table, I didn’t know what he was trying to say from that. “Uh. Sure.”

Thankfully, Donna caught my glance. “It’s because he’s trying not to be tempted to eat candy, or whatever.”

Elliot whacked a hand on top of his books. “My future career as a nutritionist depends on it, I’m not going to give into chocolate when I can just eat an apple.”

Before leaving the house, I went to my room and let out a couple of deep, controlled breaths. Bloo was permanently attached at my chest. I needed to get my room fully sorted so I could play. I hated not being able to regress into my little state, it was important for me to have somewhere I could relax and let free. Plus, I was desperate for some candy now, just a little sugary snack, and a juice box. That would’ve completed me.

Before I could leave the house, Tara stopped me in the doorway. She immediately noticed Bloo in my jacket and gestured to him. “Are you ok?” she asked. “I got homesick in my first year, but second year should be fine.”

“It’s a comfort thing,” I said, tucking him under my arm. “I’m not missing home though. It’s got like—essential oils in it, so it’s relaxing.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s absolutely genius,” she said. “Well, if you ever need help with anything, let me know. I’m pretty good at seeing cues in people.”

“Psych major, right?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s right. So, if you ever want to talk, I’m your girl.”

I could only offer a smile. It was probably not advised to seek psychological advice from someone still in college, and not from someone I was living with. I didn’t need them knowing all the nitty gritty details going on in my brain.

Maplehaven was true to its name, a haven that had a nice sweetness in the air, and that could’ve been because of how close to a bakery I lived, and the proximity to everything else. There was a grocery store, and even a small hobby store, filled with all types of craft bins. I resisted temptation today, but I knew I would be rifling through the yarn bins any day now for a bargain. Chenille yarn was expensive and if they had a deal on that softness, I’d sniff it out.

From the small store, I grabbed a multi-pack of apple juice, a candy bar, and a frozen pizza I’d probably make once everyone was in bed, or out of the house. I’d already fielded a comment about no candy, I didn’t need any more judgement on what I was going to eat.

My room was my safe space, and the more I decorated it, the safer it became.

In a onesie with Bloo and some of my other crochet creations, namely octopus and jellyfish, they were easy to make, and I had a fascination with the ocean, guarded way behind a fear for it. They were named and renamed over and over because nothing ever stuck, except for Bloo.

Even in my safe space, I felt the need to keep my voice down. I didn’t need anyone asking if I had guests over, or what was happening in there. All I needed were my headphones, a good YouTube video of one of my old favorite cartoon classics, and my big bag of yarn. Alongside my crochet hooks and stitch markers.

Once school started, I’d be busier and so would everyone else.

My brain had always been an enemy whenever I was trying to convince myself of something good. It would lambast me with negative thoughts and insults people could hurt me with. The most frequent one I heard my brain hurl was weirdo, but lucky for me, I was drowning it out with catchy theme tunes and counting stitches.

“This is going to be a big octopus,” I said, after not paying too much attention to the double crochet I’d been making inside of what had been a magic circle. “A big octopus.” I giggled as the word sounded funny on my tongue.

The crocheted plushies were sitting around me on the bed, probably having a meeting about what I was making, and how by the end of it, it could’ve probably sucked them all inside it like a small tote bag. It reminded me of an actual tote I’d tried crocheting, but stopped because I didn’t have the material to line it with.

The second my fingers put the hooks down, I was deflated with the recollection of what happened in the ice rink earlier. The way they all stopped on the ice to look at me, and the way the coach had asked if I was going to be the reporter for the ice hockey team.

I wished. I needed to wait to find out.

The Caldwell Chronicle was a dream, but not everyone got what they wanted, least of all me.

I’d probably end up in the lifestyle section, or talking about events happening on campus. The sports section was the biggest, naturally, we had so much going on at the campus with a football field, ice rink, Olympic-sized swimming hall, track, and basketball to name a few off the top of my head.

Glancing up at the ceiling, I imagined glow in the dark stars on it. I’d need to place an order for them or find them in a store and try not to feel embarrassed when the cashier scanned them. “Please,” I said quietly to myself. “Please let me get a good section at the paper.” I paused, pushing my bottom lip out in a pout. “Pretty please. If you’re listening.”

It was sometimes how I spoke to my dad. He might not have been listening, but I swore he was my guardian angel now, and I knew he wanted it for me as well.