summer of ava

THE DISCOVERY

Monday morning, Jason woke up excited for the first time in... he didn't know how long. Maybe ever.

He grabbed his backpack, headed to the school, and slid into his usual seat in the back corner. The seat next to him—Ava's seat—was empty.

"She's just late," he told himself. "She's always late."

But class started, and she didn't show up.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. Then the whole class was over, and Ava never walked through that door.

Jason checked his phone. One message from her, sent hours ago: Thank you for the best summer ever, Mystery Boy.

His stomach dropped. Something was wrong.

He pulled out his math notebook to mindlessly doodle, trying not to worry, and that's when he saw it. A folded piece of paper tucked between the pages, his name written on it in Ava's handwriting.

His hands shook as he unfolded it.

Jason,

Isn't it crazy how some people can walk into your life and change everything? I never expected summer school to be anything but boring. I definitely didn't expect you.

When we met, you were this grumpy, closed-off guy who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. And I thought, "Challenge accepted." I wasn't trying to annoy you. (Okay, maybe a little.) I just wanted to make you smile. Because I could tell you had a good smile, even if you never showed it.

And then something happened. I don't know when exactly. But somewhere between the terrible math jokes and the water fights and the late-night texts, you became my favorite person. You became someone I couldn't imagine my life without.

I should've told you this in person. I wanted to. But I'm a coward, and I knew if I looked at you, I'd start crying and probably never stop.

I'm leaving today. Sunday morning. My parents enrolled me in boarding school across the state. I've known all summer, but I couldn't tell you. I kept thinking maybe if I didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't be real.

But it is real. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry we don't get more time. I'm sorry for all the things we won't get to do.

But I'm not sorry I met you. Not for a second.

You made this summer unforgettable, Jason. Every dumb joke, every smile, every moment—I'm keeping all of it. Always.

Maybe someday we'll run into each other again. Maybe in college, or in some random city, or in line at that ice cream place with the weird flavors. And maybe we'll pick up right where we left off.

Or maybe we won't. Maybe this is it. Maybe we'll just be two people who knew each other once, a long time ago, during one perfect summer.

Either way, I want you to know: you matter. Your photos matter. Your laugh matters. Everything about you matters, even if you don't believe it yet.

Don't forget me, Jason. And if you ever think of me—when you see yellow hoodies or terrible math puns or girls with too-big glasses—smile. That's all I want. Just smile and remember that somewhere out there, I'm thinking of you too.

Love,

Ava

P.S. - Keep taking photos. The world needs to see what you see.

Jason read it once. Then again. Then a third time, vision blurring until the words swam on the page.

His chest felt tight, like someone had reached in and squeezed his heart. He tried to breathe and found it hurt. Everything hurt.

She was gone. Ava was gone.

And he'd never told her. Never said what he'd been feeling for weeks now. Never said that she'd become the best part of his day, the reason he looked forward to tomorrow. Never said that somewhere along the way, annoying had turned into amazing, and he'd been too scared or too stupid to realize it until now.

Jason folded the letter carefully and put it in his pocket. He walked out of the classroom in a daze, ignoring Mr. Patterson calling his name, ignoring everything.

He ended up at the park, at the swings where they'd sat just two days ago. He pulled out his phone and looked at her message again. Thank you for the best summer ever, Mystery Boy.

He typed and deleted a dozen responses. What could he possibly say? She was gone. It was over.

Finally, he wrote: You made it the best summer for me too. Thank you for everything, Ava. I'll never forget you.

He hit send, even though he didn't know if she'd see it.

Then Jason did something he hadn't done in years. He cried. Right there on the swings, in the middle of the park, he let himself cry. For the girl who'd walked into his life like sunshine. For the summer that ended too soon. For all the things left unsaid.

But through the tears, he found himself smiling. Because Ava had asked him to smile when he thought of her.

And he knew he'd be thinking of her for a long, long time.

___________________

Later that night, Jason pulled out his camera. He walked through downtown as the sun set, photographing everything—the golden light on buildings, the shadows stretching across pavement, the little moments of beauty hiding in ordinary places.

He thought about what Ava had said. The world needs to see what you see.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he did see things differently. And maybe that wasn't something to hide.

When he got home, he opened his laptop and started a photography portfolio. He'd show it to someone. His art teacher maybe. Or he'd post it online. Something. Anything. Because Ava believed in him, and he owed it to her to believe in himself.

On his desk, the letter sat carefully unfolded. He read it one more time, running his fingers over her handwriting.

"Goodbye, Ava," he whispered. "Thank you."

And somewhere, three states away, Ava lay in a new bed in a new room, hugging her phone. She'd turned it back on hours ago and found his message. She read it until she had it memorized, until every word was carved into her heart.

Then she got up and unpacked her things. On her new desk, she placed a photo she'd secretly taken of Jason—he was laughing at something, ice cream cone in hand, completely unaware of the camera.

She smiled at the picture.

"Goodbye, Mystery Boy," she said softly. "Thank you for everything."

Outside, the stars shone bright. And under those same stars, two people who'd found each other for one perfect summer tried to figure out how to let go.

But some things, they both realized, you never really let go of.

Some things—some people—stay with you forever.