Dear Ava Read online Ilsa Madden-Mills

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Young Adult Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
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The final bell rings. We’re late to class.

She doesn’t move, smiling still.

I tilt my head toward my locker. “You think that bothers me?” It KILLS ME. Loneliness sucks at me and I clench my fists. “What a joke. At least it’s not, oh, I don’t know—a violation of my body. Yeah, that is so much worse. Plus, the missing comma is deplorable. Whoever wrote it is an idiot.”

“Stay away from the football players, Ava,” she calls to my back as I walk away. “And I don’t just mean Liam. Knox too. He belongs to us. Don’t forget it.”

How can I forget?

On trembling legs, I walk to the office and find Mrs. Carmichael. In a toneless voice I stare at her flowered blouse and tell her what’s on my locker, and she murmurs words I barely hear. “Oh, no, terrible…kids these day…so sorry for you. I’ll get maintenance on it, I’m sure we have something to remove it…” Blah, blah, blah.

She hands me a note to class and I accept it then run to the bathroom, finding the last stall and sitting on the toilet, my legs tucked up so no one can see me. My stomach rolls, thick and heavy, and I shove it down.

I call the elementary campus and ask for Dr. Rivers. Time passes, but I don’t care how long it takes until her voice is on the line and I ask to speak to Tyler. She tells me no, they don’t pull students from class to talk on the phone. I tell her I need to hear his voice just for one minute, and can’t I please, please, please just talk to him, and eventually I say I don’t think I can get up and go to class until I hear his voice. There’s a long silence until finally, Tyler comes, and I hear him talking to Dr. Rivers, some shuffling, and then his tiny breathy voice on the line, saying hello, and I close my eyes.

“How’s your first day, bozo?” My voice isn’t right, but at least I have it.

“Balls! It’s amazing!” I feel the smile on his face all the way from his school. “We’re doing science and I got a partner and we got to lay down on this long paper and outline each other and now we’re gonna use yarn to make the blood vessels! Isn’t that cool? Isn’t it?” He sighs.

“So cool.”

He goes on and on and we make a plan for him to come eat tacos with me and Piper tonight, and it’s well past the minute I told Dr. Rivers, and then he’s gone and she’s on the line, asking if I’m okay, and should she call Mr. Trask, and I lie and tell her I’ll be fine. I hang up and touch my cheeks to make sure they’re dry; they are, thank God, because please, I don’t want to cry.

Not here in this godforsaken place.

Walking out of the stall, I look at myself in the mirror. Pale. Too skinny. Dark shadows under my eyes. Black hair. I’d be goth if not for the bright uniform. From my purse, I fish out my red lipstick and slide it on, considering my reflection. I can be strong for Tyler. I can make this shitty road mine. Own it. Use it. And someday, someday, I’ll have a beautiful road, smooth and easy and perfect.

“So you aren’t going to let these assholes get to you, Ava?” I say to the scared girl in the mirror.

“No. Not yet. I’m not quitting. Only cowards quit.”

Whipping out a marker, I leave a little message on the wall with hearts around it.

Then I walk out and go to class.

11

I’m nervous when I pull into the parking lot of Lou’s. My heart is jumping in my chest at the prospect of seeing her, and it’s so wrong. Chance flashes through my head, his broken words to Ava and, shit, just the way he stared at her with his heart in his eyes. About time he tried to apologize, but I wasn’t surprised she refused him. Considering what happened to her and how he let her down, I’m not sure forgiveness is in the cards.

There’s a wall around me, but she’s got one up too.

She’s the eye of a hurricane, the winds of her pain whipping around her.

I pop my visor down to look in the mirror and straighten my freshly showered hair, tugging on it to soften the right side of my face. Here goes nothing. I exit and stop for a moment in front of the glass door, checking my reflection. Jeans and a tight shirt that shows off my arms—check. Cologne she says she hates but really loves—check.

This isn’t a date, asshole.

Uh-huh.

So why am I rippling with anxiousness?

My palms are clammy when I open the door to Lou’s, which is in a really shitty part of town.


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