Dear Ava(31)

He picks his coffee up. Worry lines his face. “I’ll work on this, okay? I promise.”

Later, after I’ve gone out and picked up lunch, I head up the stairs to check on Dane. I don’t see him in his bedroom or his bath, so I head to mine, and that’s where I find him. Huddled under my covers, clutching a pillow to his chest. The blinds are up and I ease them shut then put the TV on mute, letting it play. For some reason, I bring up a blog on my phone about how to watch the Star Wars movies in chronological order of events, and I click on A Phantom Menace. I wince. That’s the one with Jar Jar Binks, and I’ve seen it, but this time, it will be with fresh eyes, and I’ll think about Ava and her enthusiasm, her lips on mine—

Shit.

I bring the movie up on the TV, and soon I’m sucked right back into my childhood when I watched it with Dane and Dad.

With a sigh, I sit down on the side of the bed with him next to me. Even while sleeping, it’s clear by his drawn expression and the paleness of his skin that he isn’t really resting.

He’s going to be okay, I tell myself as I watch the movie.

He will. He’s all I have, and I’ll make sure of it, no matter what.





15





“Welcome back to the hellhole, Louise,” I murmur as I get out of my car and pat her. Another week has slowly passed by and it’s the start of a new one, but I’m still freaking here, digging my heels in.

Today is week three, and I’m going to get through it. I AM.

With a sigh, I jog through the parking lot toward the entrance. My hair is up in a high ponytail and swishes against my back. It’s scorching hot today, and I whip off my blazer and drape it over my arms before heading in. My shoulders shift inside my snug shirt, moving around to loosen the seams. It’s not a good fit for me, and I guess I’ve filled out more since last year. I could put in a request for a new uniform since all scholarship students are allowed three new ones each year, but there hasn’t been time.

Several Sharks, maybe seven or eight—Knox, Dane, Chance, and Liam included—lean against the wall in the foyer when I open the door. Girls encircle them.

“Slut,” comes from a low male voice in their group as I pass, and the girls giggle, the sound grating and clawing, but I keep walking.

Tyler, I remind myself. He’s the endgame.

A low thump comes from behind me and I turn around to see that Knox has shoved Brandon against the wall, pinning him with one hand, the other at his neck, knotted in his collar. Their backpacks lie scattered on the marble tile. Knox’s face is flushed and Dane pulls at his arm, trying to talk him down.

As I stand rooted to the spot—dammit, why am I standing here watching them?—Chance’s gaze sweeps over the hallway, probably checking for teachers, and stops on me.

He freezes, his nostrils flaring as he studies me, taking in my face.

I flip him off. Childish. Don’t care. Screw them all.

“Ignore them. Testosterone-addled morons,” Wyatt murmurs next to me and tosses an arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him, needing reassurance.

“Do you have any clue how much I adore you? If you weren’t gay, I’d kiss you,” I say on a long sigh, taking my gaze off the Sharks.

He brushes a hand over his gelled hair then taps me on the nose. “I’m irresistible to all sexes. I could pretend I’ve had a sudden change of heart, tell everyone your beauty turned me straight and all I want is you. Would you like that, locker neighbor?”

“You’re only offering to make me feel better. And don’t you have a teensy little crush on your teammate Jagger?” He mentioned it grudgingly at lunch one day when I asked how baseball was going.

A grunt and a thud sound come from where the Sharks are, and Wyatt stares over at them. “Don’t look, but Knox just slammed his fist right into Brandon’s face. And again. Shit.”

I flinch, and of course I look. There’s a circle around their group, and it’s impossible to see what’s going on.

“Chin up, love. Don’t let them see you even care about their petty squabbles.”

I groan. “It’s about me. Someone called me a slut when I walked in.” I turn my face away from them. “Is… Do you see Knox? Is he okay?”

“Oh, it’s breaking up. Mmmm, his fine ass is good, nary a scratch, but he’s pissed as hell. Brandon is bleeding like a stuck pig and holding his nose.” He laughs. “Oh, and here comes Trask, so they’re all scurrying like rats. Time to adios! Let’s scram.”

He pissed off the team, Dane said.

I shove down the ache that blooms in my heart for Knox—even if he has been ignoring me in class, only speaking when we have to and barely looking at me.

As we head to our lockers, someone catches Wyatt’s gaze and he turns red. Craning my neck, I see Jagger. Lean and muscular with buzzed hair and an easy grin, I don’t know him well, but he seems nice. He isn’t part of the popular inner circle, so there’s that.

I poke Wyatt in the arm, trying to forget the scuffle. “Did you have a good weekend? Hang out with the baseball guys?”

He smiles.

“Any progress?”

His eyes linger on his crush. “Nope. He’s not out of the closet, obviously, or I’d be all over that, but I get this feeling from him when he looks at me, ya know? We went to this pizza place Saturday, kind of a teambuilding thing, and he sat next to me. He smells so good…” He lets his voice trail off and sighs wistfully.

Leaning against my locker, I settle in next to him as we both watch Jagger talk to a girl who lives in the room across from me at Arlington Dorm. Her name is Camilla, a cute senior from California. With short, pixie-style blonde hair and delicate features, she has a soft, quiet, reassuring air about her. I’ve attempted a few conversations with her, but she just frowns and rushes back into her room. I get it. Besides Wyatt and Piper, no one wants to be my friend.

“Is he seeing Camilla?” I ask. I can’t recall ever hearing they were a thing, but then, I’m not in the know anymore.

Wyatt shakes his head. “He doesn’t date anyone.” The first bell rings. “Come on, let’s head to the assembly in the gym.”

I start. “No class?” I battle down the disappointment of not getting to sit next to Knox for an hour. I’ve said I’m going to forget him, and I totally should, of course, because that’s what a normal person should do…

So why do I feel this deep emptiness inside when I think about our conversation in the auditorium?

Why is he still fighting his teammates over me?

“Yeah, they announced it Friday at the end of the day. A few college recruiters will be in the gym, mostly Ivy Leagues like Harvard, Yale, yada, yada. You’ve really been spacey lately. I didn’t see you around much this weekend.”

I frown. I’m not surprised I missed the announcements. I’m usually anxious to get out of here at the end of the day.

“Worked two shifts at Lou’s and hung out with Tyler.” The group home sponsored a garage sale this weekend, and I helped out with that too.

A voice comes over the speakers telling us to go to the gym, and we head that way. Along the way, a group of Sharks jostle around us, and Wyatt takes my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

Half an hour later, I’d made the rounds with a few of the local state universities who’ve set up tables, grabbing brochures and talking. Several of them are promising, and likely where I’ll end up. I avoid the Vandy table, but I can’t keep myself from gazing at it longingly. Blowing out my breath, I look around the room. Piper’s deep in conversation with someone from UT, and Wyatt mentioned he was going to check out the baseball rep from one of the colleges. Jagger’s next to him, and I don’t have the heart to bother them.

The bell for our next class rings, and it seems as if the assembly may go on for a while. I decide to head out and see if we’ll have class in second period. Walking out the gym doors, I exit down the steps into the blaring sunlight and take in the campus, the sprawling, elegant buildings and lush landscaping. Such a pretty place. “Too bad every single day is a freaking nightmare,” I mutter under my breath as I take the last step on the stairs—

Something hard whacks me in the back of the head from behind, solid and forceful, shoving me forward. I teeter, grasping for the handrail, but miss it. I yelp as my body falls, my legs folding as I careen down, knees landing on the concrete to keep my face from hitting first.

“Cunt,” a male voice says from behind me, and before I can twist around from my prone position or catch my breath, he puts his foot on my back, pressing me back down. “That’s where you belong, bitch, at my feet—and don’t you forget it.” His voice is low and growly and tense, laced with anger.

“Stop!” I yell, and the pressure disappears from my back.

He mumbles a curse and runs.

I cover my head and whimper as darkness tugs at me, and I’m in the woods again, those dark trees rubbing their ghostly fingers together, hard sticks and cold leaves under me, and I can’t move, can’t move, can’t move, and he’s on top of me, and I can’t breathe, can’t see his face, can’t stop him, can’t talk, can’t do anything and I want to make him stop, please, please, please, please—