Dear Ava

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “You know the football players well?”

  He shrugs, a meh expression on his face. “I play baseball, and jocks tend to hang out. We’ve been to a few parties together, but I ain’t like them, see. I’m no Shark.” Shak. He breaks out another grin. “Stupid name, right? I mean our mascot is the Dragons. I’m still considered new here, and they don’t like outsiders, but when you’re me, you don’t give a fuck.”

  I study that eyebrow piercing, the sleeve of tattoos on his forearm, a mix of hummingbirds and roses intermingled. Recognition hits.

  “Oh my God! You’re Wyatt Carrington! Your dad—your dad’s the lead singer of the Snowballs, right? Indie band from Boston? Started his career as a model and switched to music back in the nineties?” Serious drug problems, lots of rehab…

  A slow blush starts up his neck. “Most people don’t recognize me until I tell them—”

  “No, you look just like him. Geeze. I love their music. How did you end up in Sugarwood?”

  “My mom’s originally from Nashville. She went here. My parents divorced and I came with her last year when she moved to Franklin, Tennessee. It’s about an hour from here, so I was able to get a dorm.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry about your parents.”

  He shrugs. “Dude, my dad was a serial cheater—and the drugs? I’m shocked he’s still alive. I don’t blame her.”

  “So are you in cultural shock here in the South?”

  “I don’t miss the cold weather, but the southern accents crack me up.” He smirks.

  “Have you listened to your accent?” I laugh. “Hey, thanks for being nice to me this morning. I wasn’t ready for it. First day jitters.”

  He gives me a fist bump. “We’ll be friends if you tell me you’re a Red Sox fan? Yes?”

  “Is that the sport with a long stick? I don’t know jack about baseball.”

  “I can live with that. Just don’t ever bring up the Yankees and we’re golden.”

  I laugh, then my eyes follow Knox’s flashy car as it pulls out onto the highway. I chew on my lips. “Hey, what do you think about Knox Grayson?”

  Wyatt follows my gaze then grins wistfully. “I think he’s hot. That tight body and those guns on his arms… If only he went that way. Damn shame.”

  My eyes bug out. “Wait…what?”

  He chuckles then gets going with a full-blown laugh, slapping his leg. “Ava, you should see your face. I’m gay. Everyone knows.”

  I shake my head. “But…you’re so…”

  “Masculine? Athletic?”

  I giggle. “Yeah, okay, sure, all that. I didn’t mean to stereotype. My bad.” I pause. “Thanks again for stopping.”

  He strikes a pose, bending his wrist and totally putting on airs. “Ignore those assholes, darling, because we’re going to be great friends.”

  A new friend.

  “Also, I can’t find you on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook—nothing. Where do you social?”

  I roll my eyes. “I deleted everything when I got tagged in a ton of negative comments about the party.”

  He takes that in, mulls it over. “Fuck that. Forget them.”

  I smile. “Hey, you got any musical talent like your dad?”

  “I play guitar like a madman.”

  “I sing. Wanna teach me how to play sometime?”

  “Oh, yeah, locker neighbor.” When he grins, his face is open and full of sincerity, and a warm feeling grows in my chest.

  It’s not a bad end to the day at all.

  But tomorrow will be here soon, and I’ll have to start all over again.

  8

  I twitch in my bed. I’m in that weird half-awake/half-asleep state where it feels like what’s happening in your head might be real even though the logical side of you knows nightmares can’t actually come to life.

  But maybe they can.

  Just wake up and it will all be over.

  Just wake up, wake up, wake up…

  Fresh from school, I dash into the kitchen and Mom is cooking, and heck yeah, I feel good. Man, I’ve missed seeing her. She bakes the best bread. Makes the sweetest lemonade. She’s so pretty, long dark hair and hazel eyes. And when she smiles, it makes you feel like the king of the world.

  You’re not her favorite, a voice says, right here in the middle of the kitchen, but I already know that and I brush it away. Doesn’t matter. She’s my mom.

  I start talking, telling her about school and football and what a kickass year I’m going to have—

  Why is she wearing her nightgown?

  Why is she wet?

  Settling in on the barstool across from her, I lean in close and snag a piece of the bread she’s baked.

  “Roast?” I ask.

  Her lowered head doesn’t rise from the cutting board. She keeps making those careful cuts, the blade sharp as it glints under the kitchen lights.

  Water drips from her hair onto the counter.

  “You’re wet. Let me get a towel.”

  She doesn’t take the towel from me when I bring it over.

  “We should play piano tonight,” I say. “Like we used to.”

  Nothing.

  She isn’t right.

  She’s not.

  She doesn’t even know I’m here.

  Fear and dread mix, clinging to me, clogging up my throat at some barely there tangible truth that I know is right there, but I can’t seem to grasp it.

  “I’ve MISSED you,” I call out desperately.

  Slice. Slice. Slice—

  Something shakes me and I hear yelling.

  “—Knox! Knox! Stop! Wake up!”

  “What?” I mutter groggily.

  Dane crouches next to my bed, bent over and hovering.

  “Did I call out?” I push up to the pillows.

  He stares at me, sticking his hands in his hair. “Dude, you’re shouting the house down! I had to wake you up.”

  “Nightmare.” I swallow thickly.

  He crosses his arms. “Must have been a doozy.” He exhales. “Move over.”

  “What? Why?” I squint, staring up at him. My head is still on Mom. I saw her…I saw her. I haven’t dreamed about her in a long time, and she was still alive to me for just a few seconds.

  “Come on, man. I’m sleeping in your big-ass bed with you and when you start that yelling, I’m going to smack your face, so think about that, huh?”

  I huff out a laugh. “In my bed?”

  “Are you dumb? Wake up and smell the twin brother instincts. YES. I’m not coming in here again, and if I’m here, you won’t do it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Just do.” He shrugs, giving up on me moving over, and stalks over to the other side of the bed then flops down.

  It’s a king-sized bed, so there’s room for both of us. Meh, I can’t complain. The company might be nice.

  Earlier, we came home to an empty house. Suzy had already left for the night and Dane and I had dinner in front of the TV in the den, salmon and grilled asparagus she’d made. We didn’t talk much except about homework and practice. I was hiding that I was pissed at Dad for not being here. He was quiet for other reasons. At eleven, I finished loading the dishwasher, turned on the alarms, flicked off the lights, and we crashed, each of us in our respective bedroom. The big house was deathly quiet as we went up the stairs. I wish we’d move to a different house and escape all these memories.

  “What was your dream about?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, right.”

  The dream—shit, it reminds me that I was never Mom’s favorite. You could see it in her eyes when she looked at Dane, the affection and affinity. Maybe she just thought I didn’t need as much. Once at the park when we were small, another kid pushed Dane off the ladder to the slide, and he took a tumble and hit his head on a rock. “Why did you let them hurt him? You’re the strong one!” she yelled at me. I went back to the slide, found that kid, and punched him in the nose.

  Anything to win
her heart.

  “We haven’t slept together in a long time,” I say bemusedly, pushing those thoughts away and throwing him one of the pillows I keep mostly on my side.

  “Yeah.” He stares up at the ceiling for a moment. “Knox?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been having bad dreams too. Ever since that kegger.”

  My chest feels tight, and I roll over and look at him. “You never mentioned it before.”

  He sighs and rubs his eyes.

  “What about?”

  He swallows. “I gave Ava shit today, and I shouldn’t have, but she messes with my head.”

  I know.

  “What specifically happens in your dreams?”

  His jaw tightens. He crosses his arms, which looks funny while he’s lying down.

  Unease gathers and builds in my gut. “Dane. Just look at me. I’m your brother. No matter what you tell me, that will never change.”

  He shows me his face and it’s tortured, his mouth turned down, his forehead creased. “Last week, I dreamed I was in those woods with her.”

  Apprehension ratchets up higher, but I keep my face blank. “Why would you dream that? You weren’t there. You left with Liam.”

  “I don’t know why.” His eyes cloud over. “It freaks me out.”

  “Are you hurting her in your dream?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but I’m there, and it’s just me and her alone. It’s dark and she’s on the ground. I’m standing over her and her eyes open and she screams. Then I wake up. I wish Dad had never told us about her police report. Maybe that’s it. Or maybe it’s not, and I was there—” A long gust comes out of him. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  “You weren’t there. And don’t do drugs, asshole.”

  He sighs, avoiding my gaze again. “Can we turn on the TV? Maybe watch some football or something?”

  “Sure.” I click on the remote and bring up a game. I have noticed he’s been sleeping with his TV on for a while, and I get the feeling he’s up a lot more than I realize. “You want a glass of water too? Maybe a blankie or a teddy bear?”

  He tries to grin. “Well, if you’re getting up, I’ll take some water.”

  I roll my eyes and throw the cover off, pad into the bathroom, and pour two cups of water. I walk back over, giving one to him and keeping one for me.

  “Cheers,” I say dryly.

  “To a good football season. It’s your year, man,” he adds.

  “Mmmm.”

  He drinks his, sets it on the nightstand, and plops back down on his side. “We can’t tell anyone we slept in the same bed. You feel me?”

  “This never happened.” I lie down next to him.

  “But if that dream of mine comes back, or yours…well…”

  I turn on my side, pulling the covers up. “You can sleep with me whenever you want, bro.”

  “It doesn’t make me a pussy,” he mutters.

  I laugh. “I never said it did.”

  “You’re thinking it.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself. Go to sleep.”

  The game playing on the TV casts dark shadows on the wall behind me and I watch them. Still restless from the dream, my head wanders to how badly I want out of this town. Out of this empty, lonely house.

  And Dane…wherever I end up, I’ll always take care of him, just like Mom wanted.

  Ava dances in my mind, the way her shirt clung to those lush curves today—

  Flipping over, I punch my pillow and shut those thoughts down.

  A few minutes later: “Knox?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re all I’ve got in the world, man.”

  You’re all I’ve got in the world. Dane-speak for I love you.

  I reach over and take his hand for a second. “Me too. Now go to sleep.”

  * * *

  Nobody’s happy at six o’clock in the morning, but excitement builds inside me. Early morning practices? Bring it. Football cuts through the emptiness, and shit, I need it.

  I want to play in college, but there aren’t a lot of scouts beating down my door. Last year we sucked, losing five games straight by the end of the season, our worst record in forty years.

  Coach Williams personally questioned all of us about the kegger, but with no proof, the assault was forgotten as the weeks went on. By the time Christmas rolled around, no one talked about her except in whispers.

  Is it because our football team is on a shiny gold pedestal?

  Is it because most of this town is run by our fathers?

  Yeah. All of that.

  Dane picks up a ball and we pass it back and forth to warm up.

  I feel a bump in my back and turn to see Chance walking up with Liam. He gives me a thumbs-up, and I give him a nod, feeling relieved. Guess he’s over seeing me with Ava.

  Both of them are holding to-go coffees.

  Coach, a tall burly man with bushy eyebrows, finishes making notes on his clipboard about who has shown up. “Knox, take the offense and run sprints then we’ll line up for scrimmage. No pads or helmets. Limited contact.” He sweeps his eyes over us, including Liam. “Keep it clean today, boys.”

  Yeah, yesterday, there was some pushing and shoving, mostly between the offense and defense.

  The offense gathers around, Dane and Chance on either side of me. Dane is the tight end and Chance is my go-to wide receiver. “You heard him—put your pussy coffees down and let’s get to work.” Chance rolls his eyes but dashes off to set his cup on the bench. “Ten sprints to the thirty and back, then line up on me. Let’s kick some defense ass today, got it?” We all clap.

  Under the rising sun, I finish my sprints first with Dane and Chance. We jog up to the fifty-yard line to wait.

  Liam and a few of the other defensive players make their way over, and Liam opens his mouth. “What’s up with you and Ava yesterday? You two buddies now?”

  “You don’t know anything about what happened to her tire, do you?” I reply.

  He laughs. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell. I’m no snitch like Ava is.”

  “Don’t say her name again,” I say, cracking my neck. “It doesn’t belong here on the field. Brand new year.”

  “You giving me orders?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “I’m the captain. I know what’s best for our team.”

  He nods, and for a second I think he’s going to let it drop, but then his jaw pops. “She’s back and it brings that shit up again. I didn’t appreciate police officers interviewing me like I was a suspect last fall. What if they start doing that again, huh?”

  “Your dad’s the mayor—I think you’re covered.” Chance smirks.

  “Yeah, I don’t want any questions either,” someone grumbles, but I don’t see who it is.

  “—that’s what I’m saying,” comes from another.

  Liam sends whoever said it a chin nod then looks back at me. “You act like you’re on Law & Order when it comes to her and it’s annoying as fuck. First, you came to all of us last year like you suspected us. Now you’re changing her tire? Bullshit. If you’re hot for her, just bang her like you do every other girl and get back to being our teammate.”

  My fists curl, and I know I need to focus on building this team back up—without discussing Ava—but I can’t stop myself from commenting. “Something happened to her, and the person who did it is one of us or a senior from last year,” I say, reaching for the pretense of diplomacy by including them. We only had four seniors last year and only two of them showed up at the party. One left early with his girlfriend, and the other guy ended up passed out in the back of another player’s truck and was driven home before things really got going.

  Some of the guys around me nod in agreement, their faces set.

  “We should put it behind us,” says a junior from the offense.

  But some of them give me hard, heavy-lidded looks. Brandon, another defensive player, is one of them. With carrot-colored hair and brittle dark
eyes, he’s in line to take Liam’s place after he graduates.

  He steps forward and nods his head toward Liam. “I’m with him. I don’t want any questions either, not from the police and not from you. She lied to cover up cheating on Chance. Who knows who it was, but none of us did anything illegal.”

  Cheating on Chance? A scoff comes out of me. Shaking my head, I recall a few times when I wanted her to, when I looked at her and—

  Glancing at Chance, I see he’s no help, not with his eyes on the ground.

  I shouldn’t react. Nope. I should just stop talking, put this aside, and focus on playing the game.

  “I don’t even know who you are,” Liam grunts. “She’s chum. She’s Shark bait. She’s nothing.”

  “You brought her up, not me.” My voice is soft.

  Dane jostles against me. “Dude. Let’s play football.”

  Liam barks out a rough laugh. “That shadow of doubt hangs over all of us, even you. You think I don’t see the way some of the teachers look at us? The headmaster?” His face hardens. “Even Jolena looks at me different.”

  I shrug. “I doubt you need to worry about Ava showing up to anymore of our parties.”

  Liam locks eyes with me. “If she does, I figure I’m owed one tussle in the woods. If I’m going to be accused of something, I should at least get the chance to actually enjoy it.” He grabs his crotch and grins. “She’ll scream for more like every other girl.”

  Everyone on the team freezes, and I…I feel like someone blindsided me with a two-by-four.

  My right fist connects with Liam’s face. His head snaps back but his surprised eyes never leave mine. Rage colors his face and his punch comes quick and accurate, hitting me in the eye before I can dip down. I can’t even feel it. Oh, hell yeah, bring it. I’ve been itching to hit him forever. I think about the first time I saw him and Dane snorting coke at one of Liam’s barn parties. We got into a scuffle then, but I didn’t hit him nearly enough—

  He shoves at my chest, trying to push me away, but I grab his shirt to pull him back and slam my fist into his eye.

  “Stop!” Chance jumps between us, but I wrestle out of his grasp and face off with Liam again.