1. Ava #2
“Please,” Stasia scoffs, swinging her hips while she saunters to the front door.
Rare glints of spring sunshine cut through the decorative glass and paint rainbows across her glossy hair.
“Your mother’s the one who shouldn’t be encouraging me.
I swear, I will have you in that limo with me if I have to tie you up and deck you out myself.
A shoo-in for prom queen, and you don’t even have a date.
What the actual heck, Ava? And don’t tell me no one’s asked you, ’cause I know for a fact you shot down both John Allen and Noah Sanders.
Both of whom would have filled out the requisite tuxes exceptionally well, by the way. ”
I shake my head, taking a moment to pull down the sleeves of my pale blue sweater as we step outside.
The air is still on the chilly side, despite the sunshine bathing my face.
“I barely know either of them. It would have been weird.” I jog down the front walk toward the street, where Stasia’s white Toyota Camry is parked so close to the curb it’s practically scraping cement. “Shotgun!”
Stasia clicks the unlock on her key fob as she moves around to the driver’s side. “You know you don’t have to call shotgun when you’re the only passenger, right?”
I yank the door open and slide inside with a grin. “But it’s so much fun to say.”
Stasia chuckles, shaking her head while she snaps her seat belt into place. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not gonna work.” She casts me a knowing glance. “What was up with the memory box, and why was that the first time I saw it?”
“What, that old thing?” I wave a dismissive hand. “Just a bunch of junk from before the divorce. I’m not even sure why I bothered saving it in the first place.”
Stasia makes a noncommittal noise, and the car lurches forward when she hits the gas with all the subtlety of a drunk monkey. “Didn’t seem like junk to me. Or to you, judging from your reaction when it spilled open. You looked like you were a breath away from stress-barfing.”
I shrug, turning to stare out the window. “I just don’t like reminding my mom about those days, is all.”
“The dark days,” Stasia murmurs, and I nod without looking at her.
We weren’t friends back then, but we’ve gotten close enough since that I’ve shared the gist of my parents’ less-than-shining history.
Not to the full extent—nothing that would paint my mom in a bad light.
Those memories remain firmly locked away, privy only to me.
And, of course, there’s the other detail I’ve failed to mention.
One that still brings a flush of shame to my cheeks when I linger on it.
“The boy in the photo,” Stasia says. Did she read my mind? “He looked familiar. Do I know him?”
My throat thickens when we pass a gray, two-story home framed by a mix of maple and pine trees.
The garage door stands open, and I can hear the faint hum of music coming from inside.
I strain my ears, but I can’t quite make out the song.
I’d bet anything it’s something with a brass beat.
He always listens to ska when he’s crafting.
Just like I always pass by without stopping.
“Probably,” I whisper, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “He goes to our school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you guys have PE together.”
“Wait, what?” Stasia looks at me in surprise, and I yelp when the car veers to the side.
“Do you need me to drive?”
“What I need is for you to tell me who, exactly, we’re talking about,” Stasia replies, although she does, thankfully, return her attention to the road where it belongs. “Who’s your secret nerd buddy?”
“He’s not a nerd.”
“Um, okay. Pretty sure dressing up as cartoon characters is the definition of nerdy. No hate, just saying.”
“Anime isn’t cartoons,” I mutter, and Stasia raises a brow. Yeah, kind of walked into that one. I sigh. “Fine. We were nerds. But it doesn’t really matter who he is, because we aren’t even friends anymore.”
Stasia’s fingers drum along the steering wheel. “The name, Ava, or I continue this interrogation over breakfast with Ben and Tyler as witnesses.”
I blanch. “Whatever, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Lots of people have childhood friends they grow apart from.”
“Spit it out already, Aimes.”
“Fine,” I huff. “It’s Declan Greene. There. Happy now?”
Stasia’s brow furrows in thought, and I can almost see the wheels spinning in that diabolical brain of hers.
“Declan Greene…” Her eyes light up when recognition strikes.
“Ooh, skinny band boy.” Her lips tilt in a calculating smile, and she glances my way.
Are we going too fast for me to safely tuck and roll out of the car?
“He’s cute in a band-geek kind of way. Not who I would have pictured you with, but now that I am, I’m kind of digging the vibe. ”
“Well, you can go ahead and stop, ’cause Declan and I are not, nor will we ever be, a thing.
We’re not even friends anymore.” I made sure of that when I tore out his twelve-year-old heart and stomped all over it.
Abandoning him the same way my dad abandoned me.
There’s just no coming back from a betrayal like that.
Even if you wanted to.