#i drew a head shot of host holly also as a warm up

[creaturefeaster]

oh god here

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Future Management Chapter 3

A/N: Hi again!  Sorry this took so long.  It’s been a crazy week.  I hope you guys are still enjoying this (and thank you to everyone for the love of my last chapter)! Please let me know what you think of this next part!

 Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Ben Hardy had been together for the better part of a decade.  After hitting a rough patch, the two of you decide to end things. However, one small surprise keeps you two connected more than you thought.

 Warnings: Cursing, angst (I swear it’ll get better), fighting (verbal)

Catch Up: Prologue (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188795655663/future-management)  Chapter 1 (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188846514968/future-management-chapter-1) Chapter 2 (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188923255568/future-management-chapter-2) 

Taglist: @lovebirdy93 @jonesyaddiction @im-an-adult-ish @taylorroger-s @amy-brooklyn99 @springholland @stassaurus  @hahaboop @tcnystqks @bloatedandlonly @doctorwhatwhenandwhere  If I missed you I’m sorry! Please let me know if you want to be added.  

The next morning, Ben and Eliza came with you to the recording.  

Ben had made breakfast, but barely talked to you outside of something for Eliza.  You were wondering how him seeing Jackson again would go if he was still this mad at you, even though he had no right to be mad.  Mostly because you weren’t actually dating Jackson, but also because, just like you had to remind yourself, the two of you weren’t together anymore.  

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jackson smiled at you in the studio.  

“Hi, Mr. Jack!”  Eliza waved from Ben’s arms behind you.  

“Well, hi there, Miss Eliza. How are you doing today, darlin?”

You grinned at her but noticed that Ben’s jaw had tightened.  

“Good! Mummy said we can go home and play princesses after dis!”  

“Well that should be a whole lotta fun, huh?”  

Eliza giggled and shook her head yes.  You watched as Ben moved his arms so that Eliza was even closer to him.  

“Y/N? Jackson?”  A woman with a headset asked.  

“Yes?” You both replied.

“Can you follow me? We’ll get you in hair and makeup.”

“Alright,” you turned to Ben and Eliza.  “Mommy and Mr. Jack have to go with her, but you and Daddy can…”

“Oh, Jaz?”  The woman said to another.  She stopped and looked at the group.  “Can you take these two to Y/N’s dressing room?”  

You saw this ‘Jaz’ woman look Ben up and down and then smile.  You nearly saw red.  

“I sure can, follow me, you two.”  

You gave Eliza a kiss on her cheek.  “Mommy will see you soon, okay?”  

“Okay! Bye, Mummy! Bye, Mr. Jack!” Eliza waved at both of you and then Jaz led them away.  

“She’s really cute,” Jack told you as you followed the woman.  

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Ben doesn’t seem to like me much,” Jackson said with a dry chuckle.

“It um…takes him a bit to warm up to people.  He’s really a good guy.  A great father.”  You replied as you walked into the hair and makeup area.  

Jackson just hummed noncommittally and sat down in one of the chairs.  The two of you spoke with the cosmetologists as they fixed your makeup and hair.  

The interview was going well.  You and Jackson talked about the movie and how it was working together.  The two of you had always gotten along easily.  It made it easy to work with and do all these interviews.

You were about to wrap up when one of the hosts brought it up.  It wasn’t really off limits, but it still kind of shook you when somebody brought it up.  

“Now, Y/N, how is it being back in London?  You used to live here, yeah?”  

You fidgeted with your hair for just a second, a nervous gesture, before fixing a smile on your face.

“I did, yeah.  I love being here!  It’s so different from New York, but at the same time it’s still that go go go of a big city.  And it’s that same modern feel and yet you know how much history has happened here as well.  It’s beautiful.”  

“That’s very true,” the female host, Holly nodded.  “You sometimes forget how historic this city is.”  

You could tell she was trying to hint to her cohost not to bring it up again.  Thankfully, he picked up on it.  

“It is, indeed, a beautiful city.  Now, back to the film.”  

You and Jackson finished the interview mentioning a part of the book that you wish could’ve been in the movie.  

“Not to give too much away, but there’s this scene towards the end of the novel, in the last couple chapters I think?, and we just couldn’t make it work.  It was written so well on the page and we tried four or five different ways to get it perfect, but we just couldn’t, so we had to scrap it. Maybe that will be an extra on the Blu-Ray or something.”

“I remember that day,” Jackson laughed.  “Everybody was trying to get it exactly like it was on the page.  Maybe if we had just taken a little more creative license it would’ve worked better, but like Y/N said, it was so beautiful on the page that we wanted to do it justice.”  

“Well now we need to know what it is!”  

You looked at Jackson and then gestured for him to continue.  

“Oh great, make me do it,” Jackson nudged you with his arm.  You laughed and pushed him back, letting your hand linger for maybe just a beat too long.  “Again, we don’t want to give too much away, and it’s not like it’s the climax of the film, but Y/N’s character and mine are in their home, and she has a dream.  I’ll leave it at that.”  

“Oooh I remember that part!” The Holly’s voice rose in excitement.  “I loved reading that!”

“Me too!” You matched her tone.  “And we tried, we really did, it just didn’t work with the story we were working on and everybody agreed to let it go because the same thing could be conveyed with a conversation between our characters,” you shrugged and then looked to the audience.  “If you’re one of those people that doesn’t read the book because a movie is coming out, may I suggest breaking that rule just this once?  That scene itself is worth it.”  

The other three on the set vocally agreed with you.  

“Well we can’t wait to see the film, it sounds amazing and you two are just great.  If your chemistry here carried on set, I think we’re in for something great!”  Holly smiled at both of you and then turned to a camera.  

“’See You Around’ comes out next Friday!  Stay tuned and Meghan May will be showing you how to get rid of those pesky earwigs in your garden.”  

The audience applauded and then the same woman that showed you and Jackson hair and makeup appeared.

“And we’re clear!”  

“Thank you both, so much,” you offered your hand to the hosts.  They both took and shook it in turn.  

You and Jackson came off set and Eliza ran right up to you and hugged your leg.  

“Good job, Mummy!”

You bent down, trying to keep your balance in your heels.  

“Thank you, Lovebug! Did you have fun watching Mommy?”

Eliza nodded and then looked up at Jackson.  “You did good too, Mr. Jack.”  

“Thank you, Miss Eliza.”

“Well, we should probably get to lunch.  Eliza will need her nap soon,” Ben’s voice came from a few yards away, a little too loud.

“Daddy! Can Mr. Jack come over to lunch?”  

Jackson looked over at Ben and you noticed Ben’s eyes harden.  

“I don’t think so, Birdie.”

Eliza pouted and looked at you.  

“Mummy?”  

You ran your hand through her hair.  You opened your mouth to answer, but you were cut off.  

“You know what, Miss Eliza?” Jackson drew Eliza’s attention.  “I’ve actually got plans for lunch, but I’ll be sure to see you one more time before I leave.”  

Eliza was still pouting but nodded.  

“Okay, Mr. Jack.”  

You stood up and gave Jack a hug and kissed his cheek.  

“I’ll see you at the premiere tomorrow night?”

“Sure will,” Jackson fixed you with a huge smile.  He smiled down at Eliza.  “I’ll see you soon, Miss Eliza.”  

“Bye, Mr. Jack!” Eliza hugged his legs before moving back to you.  

You bent down and picked her up.  She played with your necklace, already over the crushing disappointment.  

“I’ll see you later,” Jackson said again.  He looked to Ben.  “Nice to see you again, Ben.”  

Ben just waved before Jackson left.  

You shot a glare at Ben before you started making your way out as well.  You and Ben were silent, listening to Eliza talk about one of the nice people that had given her a lollipop (“But Daddy said I can’t have it until lunch”).  

You buckled Eliza into her car seat and then got into the car, still ignoring Ben.  Thank God Eliza kept talking because the tension in the front of the car was palpable.

Lunch wasn’t much better. You made Eliza a turkey sandwich, along with fruit snacks and carrot sticks. You and Ben avoided each other as much as possible.  Once Eliza was done eating, Ben put her down for her nap.  

You thought about pouring yourself some wine but decided alcohol wouldn’t help anything.  Ben walked back down the stairs and then set his hands on the counter.  You watched him for a moment.  

“I don’t like him.”  

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest.  

“Why?  What has he done to you?”  

Ben looked at you for a long moment.  “Are you sleeping with him?”  

“Ben!” You hissed, trying not to raise your voice for fear of waking Eliza.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“Why does it matter? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not married anymore.”  

Ben opened his mouth a couple times before inhaling sharply through his nose.  

“I know, I just would like to know who is around MY daughter.”

You stared at Ben, dumbfounded.

“First of all, she’s OUR daughter.  Second of all, you’re kidding, right?”

“Look, if she gets attached to ‘Mr. Jack’ and he ends up being a bad guy…”  

“Ben, I’m not dating Jack!” You were getting angry.  Did he honestly think that you would do ANYTHING to hurt Eliza?   That you would let people that would hurt her even be able to LOOK at her?

That made Ben take a moment back and then he cleared his throat.  

“I…I mean, he’s still around her.”

“Yeah! And so are Gwil and Joe and Luc…”

“They’re different!”

“Why?! Because YOU know them?! Last I checked, they were also your coworkers before they were friends and…”

“So you’re comparing my best friends to some guy that you just flirt with and…”

“WE WERE IN A MOVIE TOGETHER!”  You hated yourself for yelling, but you couldn’t stop it.  “YOU KNOW HOW THOSE INTERVIEWS GO! THEY WANT TO SEE YOU GET ALONG WITH YOUR COSTARS!” You were fuming.  He was mad because you got along with your coworker? How dare he use Eliza as an excuse for not liking somebody!  

“WELL YOU PLAYED IT REALLY FUCKING WELL!  HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH HIM OR NOT?!”

“MAYBE TAKE MY GODDAMN WORD FOR IT?! OR NOT EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO WORRY ABOUT IT!?”

“BECAUSE IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, THAT’S HOW!  WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE IF HE AND I ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER?!”

“BECAUSE I…!”

“Mummy? Daddy?”  You and Ben turned toward Eliza.  She was holding her stuffed ladybug close to her face as she stood at the doorway to the kitchen.  She looked about ready to start sobbing.  

“Oh Birdie, what are you doing awake?” Ben’s voice softened, even though his chest still heaved.  He walked over and picked up Eliza.  You were quickly behind her, rubbing her back.

“I h…heard you and Mummy yelling,” Eliza’s voice shook, full of tears.  

“Oh Lovebug, Mommy and Daddy are sorry,” you cooed, continuing to rub circles on her back. “We um…you know how Mommy and Daddy play pretend?”  You asked her.  That was how you explained what you and Ben did.  It was the easiest explanation for a three-year-old.  

Eliza nodded, tears still threatening to fall.  

“Well, that’s all we were doing.  Playing pretend.”  

“You both said bad words,” Eliza whispered, almost as if she spoke louder she would break whatever tentative peace you and Ben had reached.    

Ben pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

“We did, and we’re sorry, love,” Ben rocked with a Eliza a few moments.  Once she seemed to be calmed down, he asked “Do you want to go upstairs and get some more sleep?”  

Eliza shook her head, burying her face in the crook of Ben’s neck.  

“How about we watch ‘The Princess and the Frog’ and cuddle on the couch?”  You offered.  The Princess and the Frog was her favorite movie and you knew it could soothe her.  

She peeked over at you.

“Can Daddy cuddle too?”

You looked at Ben and then back to Eliza.  Why did she have to look so much like him?  You tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Of course, sweetie. Why don’t you and Daddy get comfy and…”

“No, here,” Ben slid Eliza into your arms.  She buried herself deeper in your arms.  You and Ben exchanged a look.  “You and Mummy can get comfy and I’ll get everything ready.”  Ben kissed Eliza’s nose and led you to the living room.  You and Eliza started making a nest of blankets and pillows as Ben got the TV and Blu-Ray player ready.  

“Mummy?”  Eliza asked as you got her wrapped in a blanket.  

“Yes, honey?”  

Eliza was suddenly shy, which was something she never was.  You rubbed her back again.  “What’s the matter, Liza?”

She shook her head as Ben came over with the remote.  

“Ready, lovies?”  

You ignored the term of endearment as you burrowed yourself deeper into the hoard of blankets and wrapped your arms around Eliza.  Ben pressed play and then placed one arm on top of yours and pulling Eliza (and you) closer to his chest.  

If the two of you had still been married, this could’ve been how you spent the last three years. Cuddling on the couch, Eliza between you, watching Disney movies while the dreary English afternoon went by.  Maybe after she was asleep, Ben would take her upstairs and then when he came back downstairs, the two of you would snuggle, just the two of you, maybe finish the movie if it wasn’t over yet.  

Eliza was singing along to the songs, and you noticed Ben was keeping the beat with his thumb near your elbow.  You hated how…normal this all seemed.  

You hated that you ached for this.  

Eliza giggled at the fireflies in the movie started up their song.  The last thing you remembered was Ray and all his family singing “Gonna Take You There” and the feeling of Ben gently rubbing your arm.  

Ben watched as your eyes fluttered closed.  He’d missed that sight.  He’s missed almost everything about you.  Maybe that’s why it had been easier to pick a fight with you about Jackson.  If he thought about the bad things, he wouldn’t beg you take him back.  He felt awful for taking out his frustration on somebody who honestly seemed like a good guy and had been nothing but nice to Eliza (and you, as much as it annoyed him).

And poor Eliza.  No child should have to hear their parents argue like that, whether they were together or not.  Ben glanced at her.  She was trying so hard to stay awake, but the song was a soft love song and it was lulling her to sleep.  

“Get some sleep, Birdie,” Ben placed a kiss in her hair.  

“No, Daddy,” Eliza muttered, but her eyes were already closed.  

You’d always said that Eliza looked more like him, and maybe she did, but she acted just like you. She was sweet, and smart, and warm. She had her stubborn side too, even at three.  It pained him when he saw her act like you, or when she used American terms for something because it just reminded him that much more of you.  And when she talked about you, the way her face lit up when she saw you, it just made him miss you that much more.  

Ben watched the rest of the movie, even though he basically knew it by heart.  

“Because Tiana, she is my Evangeline.”  

Ben looked over at you and sighed.  

[mariequitecontrarie]

All of Me: Chapter 16

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle and Emma go shopping in Portland to prepare for a big night out with Gold and Neal at the Storybrooke Winter Gala. Emma runs into an old high school rival and shares a secret. Rating: T A/N: Guys, it’s been 84 years! Much love to @galactic-pirates and @magnoliatattoo for putting up with me. Artwork by the talented @wizzygold @a-monthly-rumbelling: “I’m not dressed for this.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | 

Stay with Me (bet. Ch 9&10) | Spiked Chocolate (bet. Ch 16&17) | Pieces of Me (Q&A)

ON AO3

“The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” - Marcelene Cox

***Three weeks after Belle has moved out of her parents’ house and into Marco’ s.***

Belle picked up the telephone to call Gold at the newspaper, her day planner spread open on the desk.

Yes, it was old-fashioned, writing things down on a calendar and lugging the thick planner around in her bag, but she liked old-fashioned. She liked books, and fountain pens, and the rustle of paper—both crisply new and faded with age. Besides, she didn’t trust iPhone calendar apps.

She’d forgotten Daddy and Edith’s anniversary one too many times thanks to those finicky electronic calendars. Whenever it happened, she rushed to write a card at the last minute but instead of being grateful, Edith seemed to enjoy shaming her for “neglecting her family.” Personally, Belle felt anniversaries were about the couple celebrating each other…but her thoughts were veering way off course. If she ventured down the dark road of worrying over Edith, she could end up in bed with a box of snowball cakes for the rest of the day.

But falling into depression was less likely now that she no longer called her father and Edith’s house home. After three weeks of living with Marco, there was no denying how much better she felt; the freedom of coming and going as she pleased was a heady sensation. Sometimes Gold joined her at Marco’s house in the evening and the three of them played Scrabble together. Once, she had insisted Marco not cook dinner after cooking at the restaurant all day long and dragged him to Emma’s house for a family dinner where Henry chattered about school and his friends and made everyone laugh until their sides ached. 

But most often, Marco would come home from the restaurant and the two of them would eat a pasta and salad dinner, and then spend the evening in the comfortable quiet of his small, cozy living room. His overstuffed couch and chairs were such a contrast to the hard, slick leather furniture Edith filled her house with, and Belle loved sinking into the corner of Marco’s huge couch and covering up with a fluffy throw blanket.

Sometimes they would make small talk about their days but on most evenings, Marco would be bent over a notebook making notes for the next day’s specials at the restaurant, and she would pull out her laptop to research books to add to the library. Usually, either the Cooking Channel or HGTV played in the background. She’d had an older television in her bedroom at her parents’ but no cable connection. Marco, however, had a new flatscreen and Belle indulged in her love of watching House Hunters International, which combined two of her favorite pastimes: seeing home interiors and a peek at exotic destinations.

Gone were the days of being chased into her bedroom, hiding her diary, and hoarding snacks. Some days, the years spent in Edith and her dad’s frosty household seemed like a bad dream. 

At least twice a week, Belle offered to pay Marco rent. It didn’t seem right to eat his food and live in his space and offer nothing in return. But he refused every time she asked. “No,” he had said this morning over breakfast, flipping eggs with a stubborn twist of his lips. “We are family, Bella. La famiglia. And when life is hard, family is a soft place to land.” Her eyes had burned with grateful tears, but she kissed his cheek and ate her breakfast and let him fuss over her until they went their separate ways—he to the restaurant and her to the library.

Besides, she thought as she punched in Gold’s number, she didn’t have time for wallowing.

She needed to talk to Gold about the annual Storybrooke Winter Gala today. On impulse, Neal had bought four tickets and insisted he and Emma and Belle and Gold make a double date of the occasion. He’d even arranged for their next-door neighbor, Ana, to watch Henry.

Every December, the Mayor’s Office hosted the gala to benefit the city schools. This year, all proceeds would go toward school Arts programs—music, theatre, writing, and art workshops. Emma and Gold usually attended every year, Gold to cover the event for the Times and Emma to capture photographs to accompany the story. Belle had never been invited to the ball before, though, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Part of her didn’t want to be seen in public with so many shiny glossy people she couldn’t measure up to, but another side of her was excited to play princess for an evening.

She glanced again at the date and punched in Gold’s phone number. Today was Friday, November 16th. Thanksgiving was next week, which meant the gala was only three weeks away. There wasn’t much time to get ready. Finding a dress could be difficult and she would probably need to take it to a tailor, too. The thought of shopping for formalwear made her palms begin to sweat.

“Gold,” he answered on the first ring.

“What are you wearing?” she asked in a rush, followed by a breathless pause.

He answered with a laugh, the deep, rich sound making her spine tingle. She imagined him setting down the newspaper proof he was holding to turn in his chair to peer out the window toward the library. Since her office was in the back of the building he couldn’t actually see her, but she felt the admiring burn of his eyes all the same.

She heard a rustling sound as he set down the pages. When they talked or spent time together, he always gave her his full attention. It was certainly a refreshing change from Sean distractedly glancing at her during one of his marathon video game sessions and asking her to repeat what she’d said for the third time.

“A naughty call in the middle of the workday?” Gold drawled into the phone. “Sweetheart, men dream of these sorts of calls from their girlfriends. It’s not even my birthday.”

Belle blushed. She hadn’t stopped to think how awkward the question would sound out of context, but now that it was out, she teased him right back. “Mmmm nothing naughty to say today but just wait till it is your birthday,” she said. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes?” He drew out the word, filling it with expectation and making her giggle.

She could almost see him leaning forward across the desk, a mischievous gleam in those caramel eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 14th,” he answered promptly. “And tell Marco I prefer ice cream cake.”

“You prefer every cake,” she shot back, smiling into the phone. When it came to baked goods, Gold had an enormous sweet tooth. “But I think it can be arranged.”

“That’s excellent news. Just don’t tell Marco how many candles to put on it because the thing will be melted before we have a chance to slice it.”

Belle knew he was still self-conscious about the difference in their ages. She also knew exactly how to soothe him when he worried. “Then it’s a good thing I prefer mature men.”

“Indeed,” he said, sounding pleased.

She flipped her planner forward and marked his birthday on the calendar in bold, red ink, surrounding the date with fat, bright hearts. The birthday of the man she loved was an important day—far more worth remembering than the wedding date of her stuffy stepmother and emotionally unavailable father. At least she knew Marco wouldn’t snoop through her things and read her planner or her diary. But she was digressing again.

“Now, back to my question,” she ordered, feigning sternness. 

“You have my full attention, General French.”

She laughed and rubbed the thick holiday gala invitation between her fingers. Its embossed gold lettering and sprigs of holly in metallic ink screamed expensive. Everyone knew the Storybrooke Winter Gala was the social event of the season. From the chilled seafood towers bursting with crab claws and lobster tails to the elegant champagne cocktails, no expense would be spared.

Belle fanned her warm cheeks with the cardstock, her clammy fingers leaving damp smudges at the top of the matte stationery. “The invite says formal attire, but you’re almost always formal. Were you thinking suit or tuxedo?”

 “At the moment, I’m in my usual. I did opt for the socks with the turkeys today as a nod to next Thursday.”

Belle giggled and dragged her teeth over her lower lip. His Thanksgiving socks were adorable and he was being terribly sweet in his attempts to put her at ease. She wanted to go to the gala, but she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin who had never been anywhere. Gold had attended fancy dinners and parties all over the world. He’d been to a State Dinner with the President, for goodness sake, while Belle had never ventured beyond the Portland city limits. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we can show up in sweatpants and be all ‘sorry, I’m not dressed for this.’” Oh, how she wished.

“Sweetheart, you can wear anything you like. You’re gorgeous no matter what you have on. That said, I’m not really the proper person to offer advice on evening gown selections. Why don’t you talk to Emma?”

She sighed. “Honey, I have talked to Emma. We’re both going shopping and we both need to know. It’s not like we can ask Neal for guidance.” Exasperated, she pushed a curl off her forehead, wondering why she had to explain this. “You know what he’s like. Emma said, ‘Neal would dust corn chips off his construction clothes, zip a hoodie sweatshirt over it, and head out the door.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

Gold burst out laughing. “Sounds like my boy. I’ll make sure he’s dressed appropriately.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “there’s not much of a boutique circuit here in Storybrooke and I’m not exactly a candidate for Rent the Runway.” She sucked in the inside of her cheek as soon as those last words were out. Since they’d started dating, she’d been making a concerted effort not to say self-deprecating things about herself. At least not out loud.

Gold hadn’t seemed to notice her negativity, though.

“Which would you prefer I wear? Tux or suit?”

The image of whirling on the dance floor with Gold in a sleek black tuxedo was doing crazy things to her insides. “Tux,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Tux sounds good.”

“Tux it shall be then. And Belle?”

“Yes?” She was still picturing Gold in black tie and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

“Love,  I meant what I said: you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. We’re going to the gala so we can dance and eat shrimp cocktail and support the Arts, not so you’ll worry over competing with silly girls and stupid women who wouldn’t know true beauty if it ran over them with a sleigh.”

“I wish you and Emma and Neal were going to be the only ones there,” she murmured, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known about the gala and been given every opportunity to decide against going. The event had been on the calendar for weeks, yet the closer it came the more she fretted about fitting in. An inexplicable craving for belonging tightened her chest.

Gold hummed into the phone. “This is about more than a dress, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the weight of his understanding settle over her like a comforting mantle. Her head lolled forward until her forehead rested upon the top of her desk. The smooth, cool grain of the wood felt good against her flushed skin and she forced out another lungful of air. Gold didn’t deserve to be at the wrong end of her short fuse. She tried to tell herself she belonged at the gala because he’d invited her, but the heart didn’t always believe the head—no matter how sensible the head was being.

“It matters to me that I at least look like I belong, even if it isn’t true,” she admitted.

Gold was quiet for a long moment. “It is true, sweetheart. For as long as I draw breath, you will always have a place to belong. If Marco, Emma, Neal, and Henry were here, I know each of them would say the same. I also know it’s going to take more than hearing the words to make you believe it. You have to know the truth deep down. I love you so much, and I only hope and pray that one day you’ll see yourself the way we see you.”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling a sob. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“It’s nearly five. I’m coming over to the library.” Through the phone, she heard the distinctive click of his pocket watch as he snapped it closed. “When I get there, I’m going to kiss you till you’re breathless, then take you out for a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

Belle smiled and wiped her tears and her worries away with a tissue from the box on her desk. “It sounds perfect.”

“So we’re here.” Emma sucked down the dregs of her iced latte in a noisy slurp and wiped her hands on her black jeans. “Portland. Boutique Row. What do we do now?” She tossed the cup in the trash can inside the door.

Like aliens on a foreign planet, they hovered inside the doorway of Posh, the largest formal boutique in the city.

Belle eyed Emma suspiciously. “I thought you said you knew about shopping.”

“Yeah, for denim and dry fit. Where to get the best doughnuts. And the occasional piece of leather. Not evening gowns.”

“But you’ve been to this gala before?” she pressed.

“Yeah, as the photographer. No one pays attention to what you’re wearing when you’re behind the camera. I got away with black pants and a dress shirt three years running.”

Belle looked her friend up and down. Perspiration was dotting Emma’s temples. Her cheeks, ruddy from the winter air outside just moments ago, were ashen. She knew that deer-in-headlights look: Emma was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Belle ran her teeth over her lower lip, discouragement slithering around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. “Are we in trouble?”

“It’s possible,” Emma acknowledged, then shook her head hard enough to cause her ponytail to sway. “No. No! We’re two grown women. We can handle one small town formal.”

“You make it sound like war,” Belle said wryly.

“It’s worse. Other women. Rich, polished, cold as ice.” She rolled her eyes at a chic blonde dripping in Chanel and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag bigger than Belle’s suitcase. “Maybe we should invest in suits of armor.”

“Or maybe we should eat them for supper.”

Emma snorted, their laughter breaking the tension. It was rare for Emma to be intimidated, and Belle patted her shoulder. Misery loved company, and somehow knowing she wasn’t alone in her insecurity gave her hope for more than the hunt for an evening gown. “We can do this, as long as we do it together.”

Emma’s reached for Belle’s hand and squeezed. “Right. Together is better.”

”Exactly.”

Emma gave a long, slow whistle and they moved into the store like two people tied together in a three-legged race. “Where should we start?” Belle stared at the array of gowns and began to shuffle through the racks, heading in the direction of the plus sizes. She’d come here expecting to have maybe two choices in style but after a few minutes of browsing, to her surprise, there were many gowns in her size—short and long, tight and flowing, beaded and glittery. And though she hadn’t tried on a solitary dress, she was still convinced there wasn’t one in all of Portland designed to flatter her physique. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from zero choices to too many. So many dresses, so little time, and so much Belle.

Even the eggnog lattes and cream-stuffed doughnuts she and Emma had feasted on in the car on the way here left her feeling hollow. She was at her worst at formal events—the last one she’d been to was her high school senior prom and not one person had asked her to dance. She’d gone stag simply so she didn’t have to sit in the house with her father and Edith. With the exception of going to the refreshment table to sneak brownies, she had sat in the corner the entire time.

But she wasn’t in high school any longer. She had a handsome escort in Gold and friends to spend the evening with. The steeply priced gala tickets had already been purchased and paid for and supporting the Arts in their schools? She couldn’t think of a more excellent cause. Besides, backing out three weeks before the event was paramount to announcing you had no interest in seeing Hamilton. It simply wasn’t done.

She squinted in the direction of the lingerie. Spanx were what she needed—something to suck her in and smooth her out—injected with industrial-strength elastic.

“Black. Black is the slimming choice,” Belle decided aloud, pushing through the rack toward a plain A-line silk sheath gown.

At least if she stuck to basic black, she and Gold would match. Like two penguins. One sleek and sophisticated, the other round and plump, carrying a lot of blubber around to make it through the hard, cold, South Pole winter.

“No black! Black is the safe choice,” Emma countered, smacking Belle’s hand when she reached for the hanger on another simple, nondescript black gown with clean lines.

“And that’s bad why?”

“Because it’s drab and washes you out. Go for color. Like gold.”

“Suddenly you’re a Pantone expert?” Belle winced. “A gold dress? Isn’t that a touch…cliché?”

“Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

Belle nudged Emma in the direction of a tall, willow-thin woman with striking black and grey hair and the pointiest red stilettos she’d ever seen. “Maybe we should ask someone. I think she works here.”

Emma squinted and slid more dresses down the rack. “The one with the scarf on?”

“It’s a poncho.” She knew that much.

“Wait! Wait! Try this emerald one! Gold will go crazy when he sees you in this!” Emma whipped a dazzling, jewel-toned gown with a daring thigh-high slit off the rack. Belle stared at the stunning gown then glanced back at the saleswoman. “Five minutes ago you didn’t know anything about dresses.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I know my father-in-law and he’s going to love that dress. Well, he’d love you in a life-sized paper bag, but this dress will make even Mr. Smart Ass Newspaper Dude speechless. God, I can picture him drooling already!” She thrust the dress into Belle’s arms and gave her a playful shove. “Go try it on. And remember, the only person who has to know how beautiful you are…”

“Is me,” Belle finished. They’d had this conversation often during their walks over the past few months, and Emma had reminded her yet again on the two-hour drive here. She fingered the rich velvet skirt with trembling fingers. Now she had to walk the walk. “I’ll try it. What color are you looking for?” she asked, backing into the fitting room.

“Black.” “Emma!” she whined.

Emma yanked the fitting room curtain closed with a laugh. The dress was crushed velvet with full-length sleeves, hard to find, even in the middle of a brutal Maine winter. She slid into the gown, the silk-lined velvet feeling decadent against her skin. Even without the back completely zipped, she liked the look. Emma was right, she realized, turning this way and that in the three-way mirror.

The scoop neck hugged her shoulder blades, emphasizing her thinnest feature—her shoulders—and the color made her blue eyes sparkle and skin creamy even under the garish fluorescent fitting room lights. It was a few inches too long for her 5-foot, 1-inch frame, but the skirt length was easily remedied at a tailor. Not hating it, she took a deep breath, lifted the skirt so she wouldn’t trip, and opened the curtain. She hoped Emma was nearby because she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Those stupid little fitting room closets were designed to thrust you back out onto the floor where commission-hungry salespeople could tell you how good you looked and convince you to buy.

“Em,” she called out, “could you zip—” She swallowed the rest of her words. Emma was face-to-face with a dark-haired woman, and looking even more nervous than she had when they walked into the boutique. “Emma? Emma Nolan?” The stranger wore a smart navy pantsuit and a light blue silk blouse, and her blood-red lips spread in a wide smile. Everything about her, from her perfectly coifed hair to her buffed, nude pumps, screamed suave and important.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” “It’s me, Regina Mills. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. We graduated together from Storybrooke High! I sat next to you in Mr. Walsh’s English class.” “Oh, hey.” Emma kicked the carpet with her boot, looking anything but thrilled to meet an old high school friend. “Good to see you. You remember Belle French, I’m sure. She graduated the year after us.” Regina frowned at Belle, making a small scar on her upper lip stand out. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a...bell.” “It’s fine. We didn’t really travel in the same social circles anyway,” Belle said.  Regina pouted, as if trying to decide if Belle’s remark was a put-down.

Well, she could interpret the comment however she wished. Belle didn’t care for the change that had come over Emma since Regina had appeared or the barely-veiled insult that she wasn’t worth remembering. Now that she’d had a good look at her, she remembered Regina well enough. Then again, it was hard to forget the most popular girl to ever come out of Storybrooke High School. Student body president, prom queen, and girlfriend of Daniel Colter, captain of the football team. Belle would have called her a high school cliché, except that Regina had carried her smooth, flawless reputation into adulthood. She was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen close-up.  “I’m just in town for meetings today. I’m an attorney and planning to run for office next term.” Regina’s frozen smile was back in business. “I’m thinking start small with state Senate and work up from there. So, Emma, what have you been up to since graduation? I haven’t seen you since we walked across the stage.” “Um, well.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the racks of dresses. “Emma is a gifted photographer,” Belle said, sliding to her friend’s side. If Emma wasn’t going to boast about her accomplishments, she sure as hell was going to do it for her. “How exciting!” Regina’s grin was wolfish, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you exhibiting your portraits at any galleries?” “Uh…” Emma looked at the floor. “No time,” Belle put in. “Right, Em? You’re much too busy with your son, Henry and your husband, Neal.” “Oooh, a husband.” Regina’s eyes flashed again, reminding Belle of a shark circling its prey. “Is he a doctor?” “Nope.” “Hmmm.” She tapped a red nail against her jaw. “A lawyer then?” “He’s in construction,” Emma said, looking to Belle for help. “For your information, he runs his own construction company. He’s built most of Storybrooke’s new buildings in the last ten years.” Belle glared at Regina, daring her to make another cutting remark. “So he’s a working man,” she said, managing to make the term sound neither positive nor negative. “Yeah. Yeah. He’s great.” Emma’s laugh was feeble and she ducked her head.  Regina clapped her hands. “This has been fun, catching up. We should do this again sometime.” She flashed another gorgeous, winning smile, and moved in the direction of the lingerie. “Best of luck on the campaign trail,” Belle called after her. Waiting until Regina was out of earshot, Belle whirled on Emma. “Excuse me, but what the hell was that?”

“Never mind. We have shopping to do.” Emma cleared her throat and tried to slide past her, but Belle held her ground.

“The shopping can wait. Who died and crowned Regina Mills queen?”

Belle had zero patience for people who clambered for social standing and pronounced themselves better than others. Having been so often on the receiving end of other people’s sarcasm, Belle rarely talked down to people. But standing up to bullies didn’t count. Something about watching Emma cower in front of Regina caused an angry fire to blaze in her belly. Maybe she was lousy at defending herself, but she’d be damned if she’d let anyone walk all over her friend. Emma shrugged and studied the dresses. She was pretending not to care about the awkward encounter, but Belle knew better. “I don’t like small talk. ‘Hi. How are you?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, I’m fine, how are you?’ News flash: nobody’s fine.”

“Em…”

“No matter how she makes it sound, Regina and I weren’t friends in high school, we were competitors.” She rolled her eyes. “She reminisces about Mr. Walsh’s English class like that was the only time we saw each other. I guess she forgot about the four years we spent one-upping each other on the cheerleading squad, softball team, and the debate team. Always trying to be smarter, stronger, and skinnier than the other. We were out for blood.”

“Then why are you letting her get under your skin?”

Emma sighed and pulled on her ponytail. “You know Cora Mills?”

“Cora Mills, the mayor? Of course.” Belle suppressed a shudder.

Regina’s mother, Cora, had been mayor of Storybrooke for as long as Belle could remember. Cora was a cold, calculating woman, but what she lacked in lovable qualities, she made up for in efficiency. She ran Storybrooke like a machine and no one could argue with her methods, not even Gold, who was paid to search out everything. From the few times Belle had met her, she realized Cora wasn’t mean so much as devoid of emotion.  Beyond a perfunctory review of the library budget once a year, Belle was fortunate to rarely communicate with the Mayor’s Office and even when she did, it was strictly emails between Belle and Cora’s assistant. The library and its services were beneath Cora’s notice; so long as Belle didn’t ask for too much money, she stayed under her radar—which was exactly the way she liked it.

Emma wandered to a bench next to the row of fitting rooms and plopped down. “My mom always wanted to be like her, you know.”

“Really?” Belle would never have expected sweet, kind Mary Margaret Nolan to want to emulate Cora Mills.

Emma smirked. “Once, a long time ago, Mom even tried bidding against her for Mayor but she was too nice. She was laughed out of the first debate, and it’s a good thing because the town would have walked all over her. Since Mom couldn’t be like Cora, she decided the next best thing would be for me to be like Cora’s daughter, Regina. I spent every day of high school trying to beat Regina for one reason: because my mom couldn’t beat hers.”

“Wow,” Belle said. “I would never have known. Your mom is such a great teacher and your parents are like a fairytale marriage. Talk about relationship goals.”

“Exactly. The thing with my mom is she’s incredible just as she is,” she said. “Former prom queen, straight-A student, a born teacher. She’s smart and pretty and married to the perfect, charming husband. And she loves Storybrooke—but not for me.”

“But your parents live in Storybrooke.” Confused, Belle furrowed her brow. “That seems like a bit of a double-standard.”

“Yeah.” Emma shook her head. “’Why do you want to take pictures of engaged couples and local pet adoptions?’ she said, mimicking her mother’s innocent tone. “She would rather I was out on the front lines of some war documenting the dying.” “Like Gold used to?” Belle nodded in sympathy and claimed the empty side of the bench. She knew all too well the feeling of being expected to be someone you couldn’t be and dashing parental hopes in the process. “She feels like you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple life.” “Bingo! And she resents the hell out of Gold for telling me what it’s really like out there. I think that’s why I’m closer to him now than I am my own parents. He understands weakness and failure in a way I don’t think they can. I’m not some conceited little bitch who’s hiding in the bathroom to throw up everything she eats to fit in anymore, but sometimes that really sucks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Belle’s heart clenched in sympathy. Sometimes she still got sucked into the vortex of her own self-pity and forgot that everyone—even gorgeous, wonderful Emma—was fighting a battle. Trying to be yourself was hard work. It was so much easier to toe the line of people’s expectations, to do and say what made others feel comfortable and safe. “So there’s Regina, first conquering the state of Maine, then the world.” Emma put her head in her hands. “And here I am...not running for a spot even on the PTO. Married with a kid and pregnant again.” “You’re pregnant?” Belle slung an arm around Emma and dragged her against her side in an awkward hug. “Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing!” “Ya think? Emma sniffled but looked hopeful for the first time since they had entered the boutique. “Really? I wasn’t expecting another baby. It just happened.”

“Henry is going to be a big brother!” Belle squealed, excited enough for both of them. “Does your mom know yet?”

“Are you kidding?” “What did Neal say?”

Emma shook her head and touched her belly. “You’re the first soul I’ve told.”

“Me?” Belle crowded closer to Emma and drew her head down on her shoulder. She smoothed Emma’s hair back from her temples, soothing her the way her mother used to when she was little while she tried to process the news. To think she was the first to know about the new addition coming to the Cassidy household. She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever been first in someone else’s confidence. At least not...well there’s Gold, of course.” She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. “I know what you mean. I’ve had friends. Acquaintances. Then when I met Neal he satisfied any need I had for friends. He’s a great husband and I love him to pieces, but it’s not like this. Like us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Belle.”

“Me too,” she said, tears scalding her eyes. She’d known it was true—had felt the stirrings of their bond deep in her spirit ever since their first real conversation at Henry’s birthday clambake. Between family dinners, walks, and girls nights out, the invisible force between them only grown stronger. Somehow acknowledging their friendship out loud made it seem more solid. Precious. As important to her as her love for Gold, but in a different way.

“Now stand up,” Emma said, fishing into her pocket for a crumpled tissue. “I wanna see this dress!”

Belle shot to her feet and smoothed the skirt, her fingers fluttering around the waist and hips while Emma zipped up the back.

“I love it,” she said, motioning for Belle to twirl around.

“Really? You don’t think it makes me look like a medieval strumpet?”

“Hell no!” Emma whistled as Belle turned around again. “You’re stunning. All we need now are Spanx and shoes. And maybe some lingerie for the after-party?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Belle’s face flamed at the thought of wearing a negligee for Gold. “What about you?”

“We’ll get to me after lunch.” She patted her still-flat tummy. “There’s a place down the street serving yummy cheese-covered waffle fries and this kid wants some now.”

Belle’s stomach growled in answer. “Lead the way.”

Their waiter was clearing the lunch plates at the café when Belle heard a knock on the window. She did a double-take as her father waved through the glass with a sheepish smile. Her turkey club sandwich, which had tasted so delicious a few minutes ago, now lodged in her stomach. What was he doing here in the city?

“I’ll grab the check, Belle. You go talk to him,” Emma urged. “If I see things are getting bad I’ll come outside and rescue you.”

Nodding, she gathered her coat and made her way outside, wondering what would bring her father looking for her in Portland of all places, when she hadn’t seen him once on the streets of Storybrooke in the three weeks since she’d moved out.

The air was frigid even in the sunshine, and she seemed to grow colder with every step she took toward her father.

“Daddy?” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s the Portland flower show.” He brushed a bit of pollen off the sleeve of his coat. “I was in the neighborhood and saw you having lunch in the window.” “Ah.” Her dad attended the vendor-focused flower exhibition every year. She should have prepared for the possibility of running into him in town, but she’d completely forgotten it was this weekend.

“We haven’t heard from you in weeks, darling. Edith was devastated when you collected your things and left us.”

Belle gave a noncommittal grunt and thrust her cold hands in her pockets. Edith was devastated? Perish the thought her own father actually missed her.

“Marco treating you well?”  he asked gruffly.

“Like family,” she retorted, her voice carrying a sharpness she hadn’t intended.

Her father’s face paled and she instantly regretted her tone. There was no call to be so mean-spirited, especially when it somehow succeeded in making her feel worse instead of better.

He sniffed. “Will we see you for Thanksgiving?“

Belle looked into the clear blue sky, distancing herself from his hopeful gaze. "Marco’s cooking a huge feast, so I’ll be eating with him and Gold and the Cassidys.“

“Christmas?“

She blew out an exasperated breath and hugged herself again. “Let’s push through one nightmare holiday at a time, okay?“

He huffed. “I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”

“Are we still talking about holidays, or are you referring to other bad situations?” She thought back to the horrible family dinner she’d put Gold through when she’d tossed a roll at Edith’s head and stormed out. “I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t.”

“You’ve changed, Belle. Is this…is this Gold’s influence on you, then?” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, this giant of a man shriveling down to a pathetic shell. “When did you become this way? So stubborn. So willful.” His lips shook as he spoke. “If your mother were alive, she…”

“But she’s not, Daddy,” Belle interrupted. “Mother hasn’t been with us for years. She’s not here to tell you what to do and what to say, and for that matter neither is Edith. You’re the one who changed. It’s as Erskine said, you don’t even see me. Maybe you never did.”

“Belle!” Emma jogged over to the rescue, her breath a white cloud in the cold afternoon air. “Hey, Mister French. We really gotta get going if we’re going to finish shopping and I promised Henry I’d be home in time to tuck him in.”

“Great. I’m freezing anyway.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and mustered a sad, parting smile for her father. After years of trying to gain his attention and approval, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again and at the moment, she didn’t care. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

###

[junker-town]

See you soon, Hannah Roberts

How one of Team USA’s potential breakout Olympic stars is handling the wait.

Luscious green trees surround the outdoor skatepark and grandstands at the UCI Urban Cycling World Championships in Chengdu, China. Freestyle BMX star Hannah Roberts — atop her pink bike, rocking a black full-face helmet — drops in and pedals hard toward a spine ramp. As she launches off the ramp, Roberts begins a 360-degree spin. In the middle of her rotation, she uses the handlebars to whip the bike around separate from her body, becoming the first woman to land a 360 tailwhip in competition.

The historic trick, thrown down on her sport’s biggest stage, epitomized Roberts’ young career. She has never stopped building to bigger and better things.

Rather than give the crowd a fist pump, or take a breather to soak in the momentous occasion, Roberts immediately hits a vert ramp and busts a flair — a backflip with a simultaneous 180-degree turn.

The year before, she took a disappointing third in the event, behind fellow Americans Perris Benegas and Angie Marino. On Nov. 10, 2019, Roberts avenged the loss, winning her second world championship at just 18 years old with a score of 90.0 out of 100.

After wiping away tears, she stood above the rest on the podium, smiling as she accepted a gold medal and a stuffed panda with a leaf in its mouth. She wore UCI’s iconic rainbow jersey, bestowed upon world champions of every cycling discipline since the 1920s.

Just one week earlier, she had won her fourth straight FISE World Cups Series, which also held its final event in Chengdu. Roberts left no question whether she was the best women’s freestyle BMXer in the world.

“I wanted to have the rainbow jersey going into the Olympic year,” Roberts says. “It was more for myself. I put so much work in, and I was so focused on showing that I wasn’t going to take second or third again. I wanted that year to be all about me, so I threw down some of my bigger tricks.”

Her mother Betty made the trip to Chengdu to watch, after she and Roberts had spent half a year apart. In order to train for the world championships, Roberts effectively emancipated herself from her mother and father in June 2019 while she was still 17.

She moved in with long-time medical trainer Trish Bare Grounds and Trish’s 18-year-old daughter, Olivia, 750 miles away in Holly Springs, North Carolina. As she moved, she changed her diet. More importantly, she strictly budgeted her modest income. Being a teenage action sports prodigy with international acclaim isn’t as lucrative as one might think.

There was no giant check waiting at the podium in Chengdu to signify the €10,000 in prize money she earned, but the win was huge for Roberts. Just four months prior, she wasn’t sure she could sustain her freestyle BMX career into her mid-twenties unless the sport became more financially stable.

The World Championships are one of the few annual competitions to award equal prizes to men and women. By comparison, when she won the final contest of the world series, the Men’s Elite winner took home €8,000 while Roberts received €1,500.

And though Roberts’ accomplishments show how far women’s freestyle BMX has come in recent years in terms of talent and viability, they are also a reminder of the wage and sponsorship gap that persists between male and female athletes. As impressive as Roberts and her peers have been, the most famous annual extreme sports event, the X Games, still won’t let them compete.

The now-postponed summer Olympics were supposed to be a launch pad for the sport and for Roberts. The games drew an estimated 3.6 billion viewers for the Rio Games in 2016. Freestyle BMX will be an event for the first time ever in Tokyo, and Roberts is the clear favorite to take home gold.

“Women are the future of our sport,” says Nina Buitrago, a pioneer of women’s BMX who continues to be one of the sports biggest advocates. “They’re very marketable, and it’s a big thing that BMX has needed for a long time. It’s just incredible that with something like the Olympics, it’s catapulted all of us in to try to progress more and just own our journey.”

Roberts is ready to lead the charge; unfortunately, there’s only so much she can control. She did everything right heading into the 2020 games — kept herself afloat financially, trained relentlessly, won everything she needed to and then some.

But she couldn’t predict the coronavirus pandemic that has put her Olympic dreams, and those of countless others, on hold until 2021 at the earliest. Roberts is used to addressing her problems through sheer willpower. Being forced to wait, a budding star without a showcase, has been an entirely different challenge.

In South Bend, Indiana, around the back of an old brick chocolate factory, past a chain-link gate and barbed-wire fence, and at the other end of a parking lot with cracked concrete, sits an old mattress factory-turned-world-class skatepark. The indoor park known as “The Kitchen” is closed most weekdays, but on an unusually warm Monday afternoon in February, the front door is unlocked. Roberts is home for the first time in more than six months to enjoy her formative skatepark.

That evening, she will ride with three boys between the ages of 11 and 14 who she has mentored for years. Roberts was invited to the park for a private session for them and their parents. She practically had no choice — she happened to be in town, and they were blowing up her phone all day begging to celebrate.

The official Team USA Instagram account posted a photo of Roberts earlier that afternoon announcing she was the first American to ever qualify for the Olympics in freestyle BMX.

View this post on Instagram

WATCH OUT, 18-year-old @hannah_roberts_bmx is the first American to qualify for the Olympics in BMX freestyle ‼️

A post shared by Team USA (@teamusa) on Feb 3, 2020 at 9:33am PST

“They’re supposed to be in school,” Roberts says, “but they were on their phones during the day and took screenshots, sent it to me and asked, ‘Did you see this?’ The first three times I told them ‘no,’ but finally, I just responded, ‘Do you want to ride tonight?’”

For hours, Roberts and her young pupils film each other on their phones while they attempt high-flying tricks into a large yellow foam pit and eat slices of greasy pizza. She’s proud of how they have improved under her tutelage. Their parents comment on how much she has inspired them. Roberts also expects this will be one of her last carefree runs before she transitions to a training regimen suitable for an Olympic athlete. She sits and soaks in nostalgia from her surroundings instead of sending her own tricks into the foam pit.

“The last four years of me living here, I rode with every one of these kids almost every day,” Roberts says. “I’d pick them up from their house if they needed a ride or I’d take them to a skatepark. If I wanted to make a day trip to Ohio just to ride something different, they were always in my car going with me.”

According to her mother, Roberts is at her happiest when she’s working with kids, though she still fits within a broad definition of “adolescent” herself.

“[Hannah] was the first girl I saw do a tailwhip. Once she has a trick, she can just do it. It’s not like it’s luck.” - Nina Buitrago, freestyle BMX pioneer

Roberts grew up in the 4,000-person town of Buchanan, Michigan, a few miles north of the Indiana state border and a 20-minute drive from South Bend. Decades ago, Buchanan’s rolling terrain gave birth to RedBud MX, one of America’s signature motocross tracks and now an annual stop for the Lucas Oil Pro Motocross Championship. In the fall of 2018, the track even hosted Motocross of Nations, which is billed as the “Olympics of motocross,” drawing riders from all over the world.

The fact Buchanan produced a world-renowned extreme sports athlete like Roberts isn’t a surprise. But Roberts is unique because her success never came on a dirt bike. If not for her father’s disapproval, Roberts might have given motocross a real shot, but the closest she ever came was working a taco stand at RedBud MX during her summers.

Her passion for BMX was passed on from her older cousin, Brett “Mad Dog” Banasiewicz, once an up-and-comer on the Dew Tour. In 2012, as a shaggy black-haired 17-year-old, he won his first Dew Tour park event in Ocean City, Maryland. The following week, his professional career came to a devastating end. During a practice session, he landed on his head while attempting a 720° and wearing an uncertified helmet. He temporarily lost the use of his left arm, and his motor and speech skills will never fully recover.

“It was horrible. To me, he was gonna be the next Dave Mirra,” says Daniel Dhers, one of the most decorated BMX riders of all-time. “He just learned how to compete. He had all these tricks that he’d worked on for years. He had the looks, and he could talk, and was funny. If he were riding today? He’d be the guy in the Olympics, for sure. That would be crazy because then it would be him and Hannah.”

Via Hannah Roberts

Roberts herself has suffered numerous broken bones, but fear of suffering an injury like Banasiewicz doesn’t hold her back.

“You can take all the safety precautions in the world, but it still could happen,” Roberts says. “Brett fell on a trick that he’d mastered, that he’d been doing forever. It was five seconds and everything changed.”

Before the injury, a 16-year-old Banasiewicz self-funded and, with the help of his friend Glenn Salyers, designed The Kitchen. They equipped it with enormous ramps, foam pits, and “resi” ramps, which are covered in foam and a thick sheet of black rubber. By the time she was riding at nine years old, Roberts had access to one of the nation’s premier skateparks.

Swiss-American freestyle rider Nikita Ducarroz, five years Roberts’ senior and a likely qualifier for the 2020 Olympics for Switzerland, remembers trekking to The Kitchen from her Southern California home for a competition as a teenager. She almost froze at the magnitude of its jumps.

“The ramps at The Kitchen are huge,” Ducarroz says. “I remember going there, and I couldn’t even cruise the boxes and [Hannah’s] doing tricks over them.”

By middle school, Roberts was already performing tricks that seasoned veterans with sponsorships had never seen.

“She was the first girl I saw do a tailwhip,” Buitrago says. “Once she has a trick, she can just do it. It’s not like it’s luck.”

But as much as The Kitchen spurred Roberts’ BMX education, she eventually realized she had to leave it behind.

For years, Roberts believed members of her inner circle credited The Kitchen for too much of her success, disregarding her work ethic and determination. And she could only spend so much time mentoring other young BMXers without sacrificing her own progress.

“I love riding with the locals,” Roberts says. “I love helping them, but it comes to a point where, in every session, if you’re focusing on other people riding, which I love to do, your riding starts to fall.”

Roberts gave up her passion for mentoring, at least temporarily, to better her career. She had felt the pain of losing the 2018 World Championships and the rainbow jersey. She never wants to let that happen again.

Holly Springs — a pine tree- and strip mall-filled landscape similar to every other suburb in the Raleigh, N.C., metropolitan area — has quickly become the new mecca of freestyle BMX. That’s largely thanks to Dhers, who owns the massive indoor-outdoor skatepark known as the Daniel Dhers Action Sports Complex. Dhers, 35, is a five-time X Games gold medalist originally from Venezuela.

From the front, the DDASC looks like an office building or outlet store, industrial gray brick and dark windows covering the outside. The inside doesn’t look like what a typical sports fan might expect from an Olympic training facility. Plywood and two-by-fours are the predominant decor. But the 37,000-square-foot complex is considered one of the largest and best family-oriented, year-round skating and biking facilities in the world.

After spending her entire life in the Midwest, Roberts moved to Holly Springs to train at the DDASC because, unlike most other Olympic athletes, the best BMX riders like to train side-by-side, pushing each other.

The park officially opens to the public every weekday from 3 to 8 p.m. Dhers and the other pros do most of their riding in the morning to avoid crowds of young kids on scooters, but they often make exceptions on Tuesday evenings.

Recently, Roberts was joined by two other women riders: Ducarroz and Benegas, the winner of the 2018 World Championships. Roberts and Benegas are teammates and rivals. Their tug-of-war relationship only intensified after both became near-locks to qualify for the Olympics.

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“It’s very competitive now,” Roberts says. “We call it winning practice, which makes no sense because it’s practice, but everybody wants to win.”

The male riders include Dhers, Marin Ranteš of Croatia, American Justin Dowell and Australian Brand Loupos. All have finished on the podium at major UCI and FISE BMX events over the last two years.

During training sessions at the DDASC, each rider takes turns dropping in from the deck and riding for 30 to 40 seconds at a time, watching each other and offering criticism and encouragement. On one run, Roberts lands a tailwhip onto resi with relative ease. She then rides around the skatepark to pick up speed and hits the same ramp, performing a 360° tuck no-hander in which, while letting go of the bike, she leans her stomach against the handlebars before grabbing them again and landing.

Much of her competition would be thrilled with this short run, but Roberts is just getting started.

“Backflip bar spins over spines is her warm-up trick in sessions,” Ducarroz says.

Unfortunately, the sport of freestyle BMX hasn’t progressed as quickly as its athletes.

Freestyle BMX has been around since the mid-1970s, but didn’t achieve international prominence until the late 90s and early 2000s, after the X Games were started. Yet, to this day, women BMXers aren’t allowed to vie for a medal in the competition.

Instead, the most that X Games organizers have been willing to give them is an unpaid demonstration, the first of which occurred in 2014. For 10 years before that, X Games offered a girls BMX clinic. The riders hope that, one day, women’s freestyle BMX will have its own competition, similar to what women’s skateboarding and snowboarding have enjoyed for years.

It’s a big risk, especially the year before the Olympics, to ride at an event where you won’t make money ... [The X Games] are just a big slap in the face” - Hannah Roberts

“We’ve been working on this relationship with X Games for so long,” Buitrago says. “I feel like we’re so close, but they just were like, ‘Well, we’re just going to offer you another demo again.’ The deal that we made was [that] women are down to do the demo, so long as every year we’re working towards having an actual contest.”

But everyone has their limits. In 2018, when she was16, Roberts became the first prominent female rider to bail on the X Games, deciding her skills were worth more than a free hotel room and limited exposure. Some of the other professional riders protested her decision, saying it wasn’t best for the sport, but her mind was made up.

The following year, the entire women’s class agreed to boycott the event.

“It’s a big risk, especially the year before the Olympics, to ride at an event where you won’t make money,” Roberts says. “We barely get a crowd. They have it at like 9 or 10 a.m., so nobody’s really there. No events are going on. It’s just a big slap in the face.

“People should really open their eyes and realize that the class [of women] is growing. That people are getting better and it will take time for us to be on the same level as the men just because of the support. It’s hard to make [BMX] a career.”

Roberts learned from a young age that practice, more than exposure, would propel her career.

At the DDASC, Dhers is the unofficial coach of the group. He periodically pulls riders aside for extra one-on-one attention while they train. When Roberts first moved to Holly Springs, her day-to-day riding was inconsistent. One day, she might push herself beyond her limits, risking injury and wearing herself out. The next, she’d spend too much time on her phone or drinking an energy drink. Dhers and the other pros helped her change her mentality by pushing her to take a more mindful, calculated approach to practicing new tricks.

Now she’s deliberate about how much time she spends sending a trick to the foam pit, only moving to resi once she feels she’s ready, then moving to a wooden ramp when the trick is nearly perfect.

“I used to just send things [on a wooden ramp] and then go back on resi and then go back in the foam and work on them, which was a terrible idea,” Roberts says.

Her new mentality has paid real dividends. For instance, on a six-week training trip she took to Australia after her victory at the World Championships, Roberts learned more than two dozen new tricks, including what she called five or six “big tricks.” During that time, she traveled throughout the country, staying with Australian rider Natalya Diehm.

Roberts knew she had to evolve. She noticed other women catching up to her, and the number of competitors increasing exponentially. She’s stubborn according to those who know her well. She got to the top of her profession as a teenager, after all, even before she got to Holly Springs.

According to Dhers, Roberts’ persistent ‘send-it mentality’ came from her Kitchen days, riding massive ramps with no one to tell her she shouldn’t. On ramps that size, riders must possess a certain degree of fearlessness to commit to a trick. It was there she learned a fundamental lesson of the sport.

“If you baby it, you die,” Dhers says. “You don’t make it.”

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The Covid-19 pandemic first hit the freestyle BMX world Feb. 22 when FISE and the UCI canceled the World Cup event scheduled for May in Pu Yang, China. A few weeks later, a second World Cup event in Hiroshima was postponed indefinitely. After a period of insisting the games would be held as scheduled, the International Olympic Committee finally announced on March 24 the postponement of the Tokyo Games until 2021.

In the days following the news, Roberts spent more time in her bedroom than at the DDASC, moving back and forth from her bed, to playing video games, to her desk to email Team USA and other sponsors.

Focusing on a few companies at a time, she figured out which of her sponsorships were most impacted. The Milk Processor Education Program, the group behind the “Got Milk?” campaign, adjusted their contract with Roberts, but her contracted sponsorships within the BMX industry — Tioga, Alienation, Hyper Bike and Snafu — were still intact.

“It’s still just a little frustrating going through all the emails and making sure that we’re all on the same page and we all know what’s happening, who’s getting paid when and what is expected of me,” Roberts says.

Perhaps the biggest frustration was the notion that all the hard work she’d been putting in towards the Olympics — the stringent riding schedule, changes to her diet, dedication to the gym — wouldn’t pay off like she had planned.

“I was happy that the committee put in the consideration for athletes’ health,” Roberts says, “but it’s also disappointing and nerve-wracking because you have to keep the Olympic mindset for the next year and deal with all the same stuff over again.”

Thankfully, Roberts will not have to requalify. She will represent Team USA at the Olympics in 2021. And she’s still training.

Because of the pandemic, skateparks all across the country are closed to the public, including the DDASC. But all the pros agreed that if they only saw each other, and had all groceries and food delivered, that they could continue to practice together. Dhers turned the upper deck of the skatepark into a mini gym, equipped with dumbbells, a pull-up bar and two plastic trash cans attached at opposite ends of a workout bar.

Roberts still rides for three to four hours a day with the group, but she works out at home in the afternoons using exercise bands. She also tries to get up at 6 a.m. every morning for cardio and stretching. The UCI rainbow jersey hanging in her bedroom closet helps keep her focused.

“When I don’t feel like riding in the morning or when I don’t feel like getting up and going to the session or the workout, I look at it and it gives me that extra motivation,” Roberts says. “It’s like, ‘I don’t want to lose this again.’”

This should have been the year when Roberts’ profile skyrocketed. Through no fault of her own, 2020 feels like a step back, a disheartening tumble after a redemptive 2019. Still, it’s difficult to know how much an Olympic gold medal would elevate her career.

“CNN could pick it up and then boom, she’s a famous superstar, or no one could pick it up and then nothing ever happens,” Dhers says. “How many Olympic gold medalists are there for the women in other sports and no one knows they exist?”

Roberts doesn’t seem to be banking on superstardom, at least. For now, she’s being frugal, saving almost every dime from her contest winnings.

Certainly, the more visible Roberts is, the more popular she and the sport can become. For years, Roberts has been considered a leader in freestyle BMX because of her strong example. That ‘send-it mentality,’ again.

“One thing I’ve learned is that when you see a woman do something, you’re like, ‘oh, my gosh, it’s possible,’” Buitrago says. “For whatever reason, you see guys do the same trick but when you see a woman do [a trick] that you haven’t ever seen them do before, you’re like, ‘Oh, my God. Yes.’”

But Roberts doesn’t focus much on the stakes, only on how she’s pushing herself at any point in time. Others may see unlimited potential, and an opportunity for fame and possibly fortune, but her goals are intrinsic.

“I don’t necessarily want to be the best woman BMX rider,” Roberts says. “I would rather just be a good or great BMX rider, in general, rather than having the woman or the man label on it.

“I just do whatever I think is possible and if it works out, it works out. And if not, try it again.”