Dear Ava(9)
“It’s a heck of a lot better than what everyone else calls you.”
“—I will smack your face.”
There’s silence as Knox and I stare at each other.
He shakes his head. “You’re mouthy.”
“Get used to it.”
Mrs. White holds her hand up, her eyes bouncing from me to Knox. A little titter comes from her. “I never expected you to be so vehement about your options. Is everything okay?”
Oh, I’m not backing down now. I nod. “Yes.”
Knox sighs.
She grins. “Good! I love the, um, enthusiasm. Let me see… Oh, I have it. There’s a number in my head and each of you gets to pick between one and ten. Whoever guesses closest to the one in my head gets to choose—”
“One,” Knox says, interrupting her while glaring daggers at me.
“Five,” I snap.
She gives me a sheepish look. “I picked one. Sorry, Ava, it’s Knox’s choice, so Dirty Dancing it is. I’ll leave it up to you to decide on the topic, but I like Knox’s idea about societal differences, or perhaps a discussion of how the romance in the movie has managed to capture the hearts of several generations?”
“Societal differences,” I call.
“Romantic aspect,” Knox says over me.
We glare at each other.
Are you for real? my eyes say.
Oh yeah, his gleam back. And this is going to be so much fun.
She laughs. “Whichever you want. Maybe you can come up with something more original. You need to have it watched and notes turned in two weeks from now.”
She walks off, and Knox faces the front. “She always picks one, by the way. I beat you.” A dark chuckle comes from him.
I bristle. “Romantic aspect over lightsabers? And here I thought you were a dude.”
‘“Patience you must have, my young Padawan.”’
I stare at him. “Oh, you jerk! You just did that just to get at me, didn’t you? It wasn’t about the movie—it was about you being all Let’s make Ava uncomfortable.”
He grunts and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Everything isn’t about you. Patrick Swayze was my mom’s favorite actor, and Ghost was the one movie she’d watch over and over.”
My ears perk up. “Was?”
He clamps his lips tight.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he mutters.
I narrow my eyes at him. Oh, it’s definitely something.
I pick up my pen and twirl it around. “Keep your secrets then. I don’t—”
“My mom died when I was twelve.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, as if he’s surprised the words came out.
I blink rapidly, trying to realign what I thought I knew about the inscrutable Knox Grayson. How did I not know this?
“Happened before you came to Camden.”
Okay, so he lost his mom. Don’t feel sorry for him, Ava. Fuck that. He’s Knox, a Shark, and he doesn’t deserve my—
He gives me a tight nod, interrupting my thoughts. “People die. Life is tenuous, and we get no clue as to when it’s going to be over. Not that it even matters. No one really cares.”
No one really cares.
“Super dark, Knox.” I clear my throat. “Back to the paper—”
“Right. I imagine you don’t want to spend any time with me that you don’t have to. We’re just going to pretend to watch Dirty Dancing together.”
“I can’t imagine being alone with you.”
He doesn’t answer, and I turn to look at him. He’s toying with his laptop, rubbing his fingers absently across the silver keyboard, looking at nothing. Suddenly, he frowns. “Because you’re afraid of me? It wasn’t me.” An odd look fills his eyes.
I study his wavy dark brown hair, the silkiness of it. The guy who raped me had dark hair, I think. Maybe I’m wrong, and I can’t trust those memories…
I say quietly, “I just don’t like you.”
“Thank God.” He jerks out a piece of paper from his notebook, scribbles a number, and passes it over to me. “Here’s my cell. Don’t share it, or we’ll have a problem. Maybe we can watch on the same night and talk about what topic we want to write about when it’s fresh.”
Oh.
Oh.
Knox Grayson never gives out his number. I know because every girl since freshman year has tried to get it, to sext him or whatever. I’m not one of those. Rumor is he’s warned all his buddies if they share it, they’ll be sorry.
I take the scrap of paper, instantly recognizing that the digits aren’t the same as the ones in the letter that’s been lingering in the back of my mind since I found it. Well, at least my “secret admirer” isn’t him.
“No problem. One night this week? Watch around nine and chat at eleven?” I exhale. “The younger kids get the TV after dinner, and I have to wait for them to go to bed. I don’t have one in my room. I could watch on my laptop if you want to do earlier, but I prefer the TV.”
“Younger kids? I thought you only had one brother.”
I flinch. How does he know about Tyler? I barely talked about him in the years I was here.
“I live at Sisters of Charity. I only have one brother—actually he’s my half-brother—but there are twenty little ones there and then the older kids.”
“Wait? You’re still there? I thought you’d—”
I give him a glare. “Where else would I be? I turned eighteen this past January, and they’re letting me stay for now but it isn’t permanent. I asked for a dorm here, but I don’t know if that will work out…” My voice trails off and I lapse into silence. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear the details about me coming back to Camden.
He frowns, his brow wrinkling as if he’s in deep thought. He gives me a dismissive glance. “I see. Fine. Just text me when you want to watch it. Whatever.”
I stare at the number. Texting him? Screw that. If he thinks I want any kind of contact with him, even if it’s via a phone, he’s deluded.
But, shit, his number!
So many possibilities. Girls’ bathroom, announcing it in class, posting it online, the newspaper—hell, flying it on a banner behind a plane. I sigh. A girl can dream…
He’s leaned into my space, that stupid ocean cologne drifting around me. “If you write my number in the bathroom, I will make you pay, Tulip.”
I smile innocently. “Me? Never.”
“Mmmm.”
Thank God the bell rings only a few moments later. It felt like the longest hour of my life, and I dash out of there like a greyhound at the races.
5
After class, I take off for the restrooms. My stomach growls yet it’s uneasy at the same time, my nerves tense and ready for anyone who gets close to me. In hindsight, I should have eaten the toast and eggs the nuns set out, but I was wired. Everything hinges on today. If I can make it…
I find the last stall and sit down.
One class down.
Five periods left.
Pulling the locket out from under my shirt, I brush my fingers over it. Cheap and old, I found it on the floor at one of the various shelters Mama and I wandered in and out of. I recall asking around to see if it belonged to anyone, but no one claimed it, and since there wasn’t even a picture inside, I finally decided it was meant to be mine. I snap it open and stare down at the tiny picture of Tyler, his big eyes and spikey brown hair. We look nothing alike. “Such a sweet baby,” I murmur. “We got this, bozo.”
One final breath then I leave and walk down the hall, staying on the right-hand side near the line of lockers, headed toward the headmaster’s office. Everyone walks and talks around me. Piper has zipped off to her second class, and I won’t see her until lunch.
Sometimes the loneliest place on earth is in the midst of a crowd.
But that’s okay. I’m here and that means something.
I enter the office, and it’s frantic with students and teachers milling around. First day craziness.
“What is it, doll?” says Mrs. Carmichael, the office secretary. Unsurprisingly, she looks flustered, her faded brown hair up in a tight bun with a pen tucked behind her ear. Little strands stick out everywhere. Slightly plump, she’s wearing a flowy blouse with giant pink flowers on it.
I clear my throat. “Headmaster Trask asked me to come in this morning. My name is Ava Harris. I would have come earlier, but I barely made it to my first period.”
She blinks, her back straightening, obviously registering my name. Yeah, I’m her.
I gaze back at her blankly. Please don’t pity me.
She nods. “I see. Are you sure he didn’t mean the end of the day?” She looks over at the headmaster’s shut door. “He’s very busy on the first day back.”
Someone, a deliveryman, bumps into me as he carries in a large box full of printed pamphlets and places it up on the counter. She signs for them, obviously forgetting about me, and I start to argue and let her know he told me I was to come in the morning, but I decide to let it go. I’ve had enough confrontations today.
RING!
The bell dings over the intercom, and I watch tardy students through the glass doors, darting around and running to class.
I let out a sigh. My other class is on the opposite side of the building. I turn back to ask for a hall pass, but she’s arguing with the deliveryman, telling him the colors are all wrong.