“Excellent. I love a music-driven child.”
“I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“I’m on my way.”
I hung up and started the engine. The van rattled slightly before settling into its familiar hum. Free day. No schedule. Justcoffee, my best friend, and a child who believed punk rock could save the world.
I pulled out of the parking lot and told myself this was enough. That I could take one morning off from calculating survival. That I could just exist in someone else’s living room without doing the math.
The lie was weak. But it held . . . for now.
Eleanor’s front door opened before I even knocked.
Ava stood there like a tiny little Wednesday Addams.
“Belle,” she said with a small nod before opening the door wide and inviting me in.
“Hello, tiny human,” I said, with a light shoulder pat. “You look aggressively awake.”
“I reorganized mom’s vinyl collection,” she informed me proudly.
“I heard. Visionary.”
Eleanor leaned against the doorway, coffee mug in hand, watching me over the rim.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I’m going for the grunge chic look. I think it’s working.”
She hummed, unconvinced.
The house smelled like coffee and something sweet. It was safe and lived-in. The kind of space that held you instead of testing your structural integrity.
Ava tugged on my sleeve before I could even set my bag down.
“Can we see your van?” she asked, eyes wide.
Eleanor’s eyebrow twitched.
“Of course we can,” I said brightly. “It’s basically a studio apartment with wheels and questionable insulation.”
Ava smiled and padded to the door before slipping on her black Crocs with little ghosts in the holes. We trooped back outside, and I opened the side door with a flourish.
“Welcome,” I announced, “to #vanlife.”
Ava climbed in immediately, kneeling on the little bench seat and inspecting the fairy lights.
“You have curtains,” she said reverently.
“Privacy is very chic.”
She ran her hands over the small rug. “This is cozy.”
“It’s minimalist,” I said.
Eleanor stood just outside, arms crossed loosely, taking it all in.
When I’d decided to live in my van full-time, I’d work hard to convince my team that it was what I wanted. That I would spend the summer in the van, travelling between derby Bouts and living a carefree life. Some of them believed me . . . and some of them saw right through it.
