I nod.
Ty opens the door. Through the metal security screen, I can barely make out his face, but I do see his eyes are huge. “Ava?”
“Let them in, Ty,” a woman says from behind him. Ty undoes the lock and swings the door open.
I step onto a worn carpet with a lot of stains. Ty shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles aside, staring at the floor.
“Hi. I’m Liz. Thanks so much for bringing Ty his homework.” Her shoulders slump forward. “We don’t have internet quite just yet, so we can’t get it from the website.” She’s wearing a Denny’s waitress uniform, and I wonder if she’s on her way to work or just getting home, or both, since Ty said she had two jobs. She looks familiar—I must have seen her at school.
I look around. There’s a wide-screen TV set on a bookcase filled with a gaming console and an old encyclopedia set. Two stacks of library books sit beside it. There’s a small sectional sofa and a small dining table for two. It all looks like it came from IKEA. I wonder if Ty loves IKEA as much as I do.
She invites us to sit down, and Nana Linda turns around two dining room chairs for us as Ty and his mom take the couch. The sofa’s really only big enough for three if they sit close together, and I guess Nana Linda doesn’t want to squeeze into personal space.
Liz sits next to Ty, her back straight, as though she’s trying not to mess up her uniform. She looks both younger than my mom and older, too. She pats Ty’s knee. “He’s feeling much better today, aren’t you?”
He nods, staring ahead. I don’t think he’s told her about what happened to me. I mean, I guess there was no reason to. I open up my folder and get out his homework sheets. “Here. Mr. Sukow says it’s due Friday.”
He takes it without a word and sets it on the coffee table.
My whole body clenches like a jar that’s impossible to open.
“Well.” Liz looks at me and then at Ty. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Some water would be lovely.” Nana Linda stands. “I’ll help you.” She retreats into the kitchen space with Liz.
I shift in my chair, my heart pounding. Now I have two choices. I could let things be. Or I could try to change things. I didn’t come here to do nothing. Maybe I’ll make things worse—but how much worse could they really get?
Ty’s still staring at the floor. I clear my throat and look around the room. There’s a laundry basket filled with clothes. On top is a T-shirt that says NAVEGANDO POINT CUPCAKES. “Hey. I like that place.” I point. “Liked, I guess. It’s gone, did you know?”
“I know. My mom worked there.” Ty’s mouth turned down.
“Oh!” I look over at Ty’s mom. She was working when Dad and I bought all those cupcakes—that’s why she looks familiar. And that’s why Ty had a cupcake. “I saw her there. That was one of my favorite stores. I’m really sorry.” I remember what Ryan told me about his bullying days, about how he had some stuff going on. Ty’s got some stuff going on, too.
He gives me a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s not a big deal,” he mutters. “Not compared to what happened to you.”
Oh. Now’s a good time to say this. “I wanted to tell you that what happened to me wasn’t your fault.”
His jaw clenches and he blinks like an owl. Then, slowly, he lifts his head and makes eye contact.
I continue. “I have this heart condition. It was a lot of different stuff.”
We’re silent for a moment. Then Ty says, almost without moving his mouth, “I’m sorry.”
I nod at him, waiting for him to keep going.
“I wanted to stay, but your brother told me to get lost.” He grimaces. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” Ty crosses his arms, crunches his legs in. “I shouldn’t have . . .” He trails off. “I shouldn’t have assumed things about you.”
“Like what?” I want him to say the things out loud.
“Like that you’re snobby, or spoiled. Or quiet.”
I throw up my hands. “Quiet shouldn’t be a negative word, you know. It means I’m thinking.” I shake my head. “My mom says if your lips are moving, you’re not listening.”
His eyebrows are practically touching his hairline. “Those are the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”
I lift my chin, pretending to be tough. “Better get used to it.” I’m feeling lighter. As if I might be able to be comfortable around him. “I should have told you from the beginning how I felt, but I was afraid.”
“You?” Ty’s eyes widen. “You were afraid of me?”
I nod.
He gives a small, disbelieving laugh. “Nobody’s ever afraid of me. I’m just the little smart aleck in the back.” Ty smiles. “I guess . . . I was actually kinda afraid of you. I thought you were always judging me or something.”
“Totally not. Well, not usually.” We both laugh. I shrug because I’m not sure what else to say. “Anyway. You might be more afraid of me now that I talk to you. You released the kraken.”
He snorts, then smiles a little. “I can’t wait to see what that looks like.”
Nana Linda and I say goodbye to Ty and his mom, then follow the path back out to the car. It’s twilight now, and the apartments are filled with dishes clinking, people talking, and kitchen lights shining through windows.
Some people stand on the path, smoking, and Nana Linda steers me wide around them since smoke makes my chest ache. I would have a hard time living here.
I think about how where I was born and where I live had nothing to do with me. It had to do with the fact that Jīchan and Obāchan just happened to buy a house here a long time ago, when it was cheaper, and raised Mom in this area, so she grew to love it. And that Mom and Dad had families who supported them through college, and that they also bought the house a while ago, before prices went sky-high.
It’s so weird to think about luck like that. I could have just as easily been born into another family, in another country. Not been me at all.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Nana Linda says.
I open the car door. “It’ll be more like a quarter.”
Nana Linda drives me home. “Did your talk go well?”
“Yeah. I think we’re okay.” I remember how I talked to Ty. How I acted like I was in an improv scene, kind of, when I told him what I thought.
I turn to face her. “Nana, do you think if I pretend to be tough, then I’m only fake tough?”
“No.” Nana Linda reaches over and pats my knee. “You’re just calling on an inner strength, Ava. Everybody’s afraid. Courage is driving right through the fear.”
Maybe being brave isn’t about not being scared. It could be about dealing with something you can’t change, like my heart. Or it could be about deciding something’s important enough to you to face being afraid for a little bit. Like with me and Ty.
She shakes her head. “I used to be afraid all the time, but I just got on with things.”
“Of what?” I can’t imagine this.
“Well, when I liked your grandfather.” She blushes. “We had been spending time together as friends. I knew I liked him but I thought he just needed someone to talk to. And your grandmother hadn’t been gone too long. But one day I told him that I thought he was a wonderful man.”
“And that did it?” I’d never heard this story.
“No, your grandfather didn’t get the hint. What did it was when I went on a date with another man, and then he realized he wanted to be the one doing that.” Nana Linda smiles.
“And the rest is history.” A burbling fountain erupts inside me, and both of us start giggling. For no particular reason at all.
Chapter 31
We walk into Navegando Point with Miss Gwen, Nana Linda, Dad, and Ryan’s dad behind us. Ryan’s dad has a professional camera with a long microphone on it. We find a spot on the grass between a juggler and a tarot card reader, next to the concrete path and the short seawall, and get in a circle. People keep stopping to take photos of the boats in the harbor and the Coronado Bridge i
n the distance. On the grass, families picnic. Little kids run around shouting. Along the edge, entertainers perform. A woman ties some long yellow balloons into a wiener dog for a little kid. A few people search the ground with metal detectors, looking for loose change and I don’t know what. It’s a Saturday, so it’s crowded, with everyone gathering around the juggler. A cool breeze lifts up off the water, feeling nice on my sweaty scalp.
I see Becca standing with her mom, Mrs. Ladigan. They’re both wearing flowered sundresses. “Hey!” Becca gives me a hug, which surprises me but makes me feel welcome. “You look so pretty! That’s a great color on you.”
I tug on the collar of my turquoise shirt. “Um, thanks. So do you.”
She smiles and I introduce her to the others. Becca’s turning out to be nice, now that I’m getting to know her. I wonder if she thinks that about me. I hope so.
Mrs. Ladigan shades her eyes with her hand. “Let’s go over to that area.” She points. “So we’ll have the sea in the background and the sun in front of you.” She strides over there and we follow her like baby ducks. She gestures at the water. “There are some sea lions swimming around—maybe grab some footage of that.”
We run to the wall to watch the sleek brown forms gliding in and out of the water. “Arf, arf, arf!” Chad imitates their barking. Which they’re not actually doing at the moment because they’re too busy swimming.
Ryan’s dad swings into action, filming them.
“Perfect,” Mrs. Ladigan says. “Then get the buskers.” She points at the juggler and the other performers.
Miss Gwen’s improv team is already here, ten other people standing in the park. They’re all ages, from their twenties to their seventies. “Can’t wait!” a tall man with a beard says to us. “Is this Ava?”
I nod and shrink behind my dad. Luckily there’s some chaos as the grown-ups circle into their team and we circle into ours.
“I’ll warm you up,” Miss Gwen says. “Zip!” Miss Gwen points at me.
“Zap!” I point at Jonathan.
“Zop!” He points at Cecily.
After the warm-up, Miss Gwen has us huddle together, something I’ve seen Luke do with his team during soccer games. “What’s rule number one of improv?” Miss Gwen makes eye contact with each of us.
“Have fun!” we chorus.
She smiles. “Yes! And remember—support, support, support. Have each other’s backs. Ready?” She puts her hand out into the circle. The others put their hands on top of hers. I imitate them, not knowing what’s happening. “Count of three. Fosters Freeze Cult.”
“One, two, three, FOSTERS FREEZE CULT,” they shout.
We watch the grown-up team. They start with an improvised rap, then do some short-form games, like the ones we warm up with. Ryan’s dad films them and a crowd gathers around.
Miss Gwen signals us. “Two minutes,” she says.
We gather together one more time. “Got your back,” Cecily says.
Chad pats me and smiles into my face. “Got your back.” It sounds like a promise.
This is what we’re doing? I’ve never told anyone that in my life. It feels awkward, but also good. I pat Jonathan. “Got your back,” I say to him, and he grins. And we keep going like that until everyone has said that to each person.
We line up single file. The other team finishes and Miss Gwen steps forward. “And now here we are with our fabulous middle school team, the Fosters Freeze Cult!”
I freeze. Cecily gives me a gentle shove. “You’re good, Ava.” Then I move forward, finally.
Ryan is going to be the “host,” which means he’s the one who’s going to actually talk to people. “Good afternoon!” Ryan steps forward with his loudest Ryan voice. “We are Fosters Freeze Cult! A group of middle school improvisers here to entertain. Improv means everything we’re doing is totally made up on the spot. We will do this show once, and it will never be seen again.”
Some people pause to see what we’re doing. I realize we’re going to have to be extra loud with all the noises around.
It is super weird to have an audience standing so close, not to mention the huge black camera pointed toward us. My arms and legs start tingling as if my body’s getting ready to panic. Mr. Matt says sometimes I just have to push through my feeling of being uncomfortable. Aversion therapy, he calls it. If you’re afraid of spiders, you keep looking at spiders until you’re not afraid anymore.
It’s hard for me to do when I’m by myself.
Cecily makes eye contact with me and smiles. Now I don’t have to be by myself. If I fall, they’ll catch me. They’ve got my back.
And I’ve got theirs.
“First I’m going to need your help,” Ryan continues. “Could I get a suggestion for the last thing you did at Navegando Point?”
“Rode the carousel!” someone shouts.
“Carousel,” we repeat. “Thank you.”
Chad steps forward. “The carousel reminds me of the time I spun around so many times I threw up.”
“That reminds me of eating too much ice cream,” Cecily says. “I only made that mistake once.”
“That reminds me of when I was eating ice cream and a seagull took it out of my hand,” Chad says.
“That reminds me of when I got lost here when I was little,” I say, the memory surfacing. I’d been scared and ended up in the cupcake shop. The owner gave me a mini strawberry cupcake and had me sit down until they found my parents.
“That was scary,” Dad says.
That breaks it. “Scary!” we all repeat.
The others walk away and I’m left standing there with Cecily. She’s tossing imaginary stuff onto the ground—birdseed, I guess. I decide I’m walking a small dog on a leash. Cecily looks at what I’m doing. “Find any treasure?” she asks in an old lady voice.
I understand that I’m holding a metal detector, not a dog. I grunt at her. Somehow I’m Luke again. “Just some coins so I can buy a treat.” I set down my metal detector. “I’m looking for the cupcake shop. It used to be here.”
“Lots of things used to be here,” Cecily says. “My husband. My children. My will to live.”
“Oooh,” the crowd says.
I sigh. “I have to find it.” Suddenly it’s the most important thing to this kid, and I remember all over again what it was like to feel so scared, then so happy when I got the mini cupcake. And what it was like to be here with my whole family, when we were all little. There’s a new hole now because the cupcake shop is gone.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Cecily’s just looking at me, waiting for me to continue.
“I couldn’t find any coins.” Real tears come to my eyes. “I don’t have enough money to buy something else, and now I can’t get my parking validated!”
“Oh, sweetie.” Cecily holds out her arms to hug me. “I’ll validate you.”
The crowd laughs. We hug. And the crowd goes quiet, watching me and Cecily have our emotional little moment. Something in the air has changed. I guess it’s like watching someone get proposed to or break up in public—everyone has to stop what they’re doing and watch.
Just then the developer lady, Brett Rosselin, appears out of an empty restaurant. She marches toward us, her spiky heels leaving holes behind her on the grass. “What’s going on here?” Ryan’s dad swings his camera around.
“Shush,” a woman in the crowd with a big camera dangling around her neck says. “They’re performing.”
Brett ignores her. “I know you,” Brett says to Nana Linda. “You disrupted our meeting.”
Mrs. Ladigan steps forward, her arms crossed. She reminds me of a vice principal. “They’re not causing any harm or doing anything illegal.”
The woman takes out her phone. “You’re not allowed to perform without a permit. I’m calling the police.”
“It’s not your business to check on us,” Nana Linda says.
“Besides which, people are allowed to perform here as long as they don’t block the righ
t-of-way. Which they aren’t doing. You only need a permit at Balboa Park.” Mrs. Ladigan looks ready to throw down with Brett.
A crease appears between Brett’s eyebrows. “We are in control of this property now, not you. There are laws.”
“The Port of San Diego has jurisdiction, not your development company,” Mrs. Ladigan says, her voice all vinegar.
“Just let the kids perform,” someone says.
“They’re not hurting anything.” The juggler comes up next to us.
The balloon lady shakes a bright blue balloon sword. “Let them be free!”
Brett turns from everyone and takes a step away. “Hello? Yes,” she says into her phone. “This is an emergency. There’s a crowd—a gang—of teenagers here damaging my property and being disorderly.”
What? I hope the microphone catches her. This is just an outright lie. First of all, I’m not even a teenager. Second, if we’re damaging property, then everyone in this park is, too.
“You’re being ridiculous.” Mrs. Ladigan’s face reddens. Brett ignores her, talking to the police.
My stomach goes hot as I get an idea. Either a no-good, awful, terrible idea, or the last one I ever have because it will kill me dead.
It’s the kind of thing Zelia would do, actually, if she were here. But she’s not and I am. Maybe I’ll be better, maybe worse.
Only one way to find out.
I step forward and take in a deep breath. Get ready because Ava Andrews is going to talk. “But you’re the one hurting everything.” I point at her as dramatically as I can. “She’s going to tear down Navegando Point!”
She rolls her eyes. “Not me personally.”
“They’re going to put up a high-rise hotel,” I inform the crowd.
“They raised the rent so most of the shops have closed,” Cecily says.
“That’s because they can’t compete,” Brett says sharply.
Chad steps forward and sinks dramatically to his knees. “No more cupcakes!” he wails.
“No more parking!” Ryan shouts.
“No more family time,” Cecily yells.
“No balloon animals or jugglers,” Babel declares.
Five Things About Ava Andrews Page 17
