summer of ava

summer of ava

Jason slumped into his seat, headphones blasting some angry rock song he didn't even like that much. He just needed the noise—something to drown out the world, to build a wall between himself and whatever fresh hell this summer was about to become. The classroom smelled like old textbooks and broken air conditioning, and through the grimy windows, he could see his friends probably heading to the beach right now. Meanwhile, he was stuck here.

Summer tutoring. The words alone made him want to punch something.

His mom had delivered the news two weeks ago, arms crossed, that look on her face that meant the decision was final. "You're failing math, Jason. This isn't optional. You need to catch up, or you're repeating sophomore year."

"I'm not failing," he'd argued. "I have a D-minus. That's passing."

"Barely. And your teacher said you stopped trying months ago."

Jason had wanted to explain that math just didn't make sense to him, that the numbers jumbled in his head like alphabet soup, that maybe he was just stupid and that was that. But he didn't say any of that. He just nodded and took it, like he always did.

So here he was. First day of summer tutoring. Stuck in a classroom with a dozen other kids who'd rather be literally anywhere else. The teacher, Mr. Patterson, was writing something on the board about equations and variables, his voice a monotone drone that made Jason's eyelids heavy.

Then she walked in.

At first, Jason barely noticed. Just another kid shuffling through the door, late, apologizing in a breathless voice. But then she came closer, and he couldn't help but look up.

She wore a bright yellow hoodie—not exactly summer attire—with a messy ponytail that looked like she'd done it while running. Her glasses were too big for her face, sliding down her nose every few seconds, and she kept pushing them up with one finger. She had paint stains on her jeans and wore beat-up sneakers with doodles all over them.

And she was heading straight for him.

There were plenty of empty seats. At least seven. But she plopped down in the one right next to him—the one he'd specifically chosen because it was in the back corner, away from everyone.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully, like they were meeting at a party instead of summer school. "I'm Ava."

Jason stared at her for a beat, then looked away. He cranked up his music volume and slouched lower in his seat.

She leaned closer. "What's your name?"

He could still hear her through the music. Barely, but enough to be annoyed. He pulled one earbud out with an exaggerated sigh. "Does it matter?"

Ava blinked, her smile not even faltering. "Okay, Mystery Boy it is then."

Jason groaned internally. Great. A talkative nerd with apparently zero ability to read social cues. Just what he needed for the next six weeks of his life.

He shoved the earbud back in and tried to ignore her.