The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,15

few hours spinning in circles, figuratively and literally.

Roll Down was a roller disco and a weekly tradition for my parents and me, along with weekend trips to our favorite dessert bar—where they served the tastiest macaroons—and summer bike rides through Central Park.

Bike riding was always my mom’s idea. She had this vintage mint-colored bike that she loved with a basket in the front that she decorated with fresh flowers whenever I wasn’t riding the handlebars. I’d hurriedly snap pictures before the moments I knew I would want to relive could pass me by. I’m not sure when I fell hopelessly in love with her bike, but she would often promise that one day, it would be mine. My mom loved everything vintage, from retro diners and drive-ins to rotary-dial telephones, vinyl record players, and Mary Janes. She collected so much that stepping into our home had been like stepping into the past.

Now it was all gone and so was she.

Dad’s only passion was running one of the many bodegas clustered in our old neighborhood. Viva Las Deli was a piece of home for those who had hailed from Vegas and was the best sandwich shop and convenience store on our block. My dad made a mean hero, and people would drive across the city in a hail storm just for one of his mouthwatering subs. When I was growing up, the bodega was one of my favorite places to be during the summer because it usually meant all the cherry popsicles I could eat. And when I wasn’t ruining my appetite, as Mom would scold, I was running around the neighborhood chasing memories.

Photography for me wasn’t about the art—I didn’t know shit about lighting, angles, or which high-end camera performed best. It was about my need to possess all the things beautiful so I could admire them later. It was like catching butterflies.

At least, that’s how it began. The night I’d met Wren was the first time since my parents left that I felt that long-forgotten urge.

When I finally walked through the door a little after seven, Eliza jumped up from the kitchen table covered with her. “Louchana! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? My parents will be home any minute!”

“You’re a little young to have a heart attack, aren’t you?”

“Hey, man, I watch House,” she said, referring to the medical drama whose reruns she couldn’t get enough of.

I snorted, and she giggled in return. “I think you just have the hots for Hugh Laurie.”

“What’s not to like? He’s tall, handsome, and his character can get me out of gym class. I’ll even put up with his grumpiness if he can save me from sixty minutes of Coach Brown’s screaming.”

“Coach will choke on that whistle before that happens.”

Eliza sighed and got this look in her eye as if imagining it. “One can only hope.”

I joined her at the table where she goaded me into helping her with her Algebra homework. I had a knack for math that Eliza exploited every chance she got.

“I wish you wouldn’t skip school,” she fussed as she packed up a couple of hours later. “You’re easily the smartest kid at our school. You could go to Harvard.”

“A couple of A’s doesn’t make me a genius.”

Eliza waggled her finger and tsked. “Humble and smart…forget Harvard. You could rule the world, Louchana Valentine. Or at least be president.” Her eyes suddenly widened, and I knew she wasn’t done. “You could date Nick Jonas!” she squealed as if that were better than being president.

I shook my head, amused and unable to hide it, and she returned it with a frustrated frown.

“I saw your transcripts, Lou. You’ve never dropped below an A. Not even for a single B.”

The front door opened, and Cathleen and Dan walked through with a smile and carrying a box from Sal’s that turned Eliza’s frown upside down. I was happy for the distraction but not nearly as much as I was for pizza.

“Hey, kids. We brought cheese.”

“With pineapples?” Eliza said hopefully.

“With pineapples,” her father confirmed and ruffled her hair. He reached to do the same to me and failed to hide his hurt when I stood up from the table, subtly dodging his hand.

“I thought we could all eat together,” Cathleen suggested as I headed for the door.

I could hear the hope in her tone and hated myself when I said, “I’ve got homework but save me a slice, will ya?” I didn’t stick around to hear her answer and ran