summer of ava

THE CHAOS

If Jason thought Ava would take the hint and leave him alone, he was wrong. Very wrong.

She talked through every class. Not just to him—to everyone. To the teacher. To herself, apparently, muttering under her breath as she worked through problems. She asked questions constantly, her hand shooting up like she was trying to touch the ceiling.

"Mr. Patterson, why does the quadratic formula work that way?"

"Mr. Patterson, is there a faster method?"

"Mr. Patterson, can we apply this to real-world engineering problems?"

Jason wanted to scream. Who cared about real-world applications? They were in summer school, for crying out loud. The whole point was to survive and get out.

But Ava seemed genuinely excited to be there. She'd laugh at Mr. Patterson's terrible jokes—jokes so bad that the whole class would groan—and she'd laugh at her own jokes even louder. She had this bright, unfiltered energy that made everyone turn and look at her, some annoyed, some amused.

Jason fell firmly in the annoyed category.

One afternoon, about a week in, Mr. Patterson called on Jason to solve a problem on the board. Jason's stomach dropped. He hated being put on the spot, hated the way everyone's eyes followed him as he dragged himself to the front of the room.

As he passed Ava's desk, she whispered, "Good luck, Einstein."

He shot her the dirtiest look he could manage, then grabbed the marker and stared at the equation like it was written in ancient hieroglyphics.

3x² + 7x - 6 = 0

His mind went blank. Completely, utterly blank. He could feel the seconds ticking by, feel the class getting restless behind him, feel Mr. Patterson's patient-but-disappointed gaze burning into his back.

He wrote something—anything—just to get it over with. The wrong thing, obviously. A couple of kids snickered.

"Not quite, Jason," Mr. Patterson said gently. "Remember to factor first. Anyone want to help him out?"

Ava's hand shot up. Of course.

Jason trudged back to his seat, face burning, while Ava bounded up to the board and solved it in about thirty seconds, explaining each step in that annoyingly cheerful voice.

When she sat back down, she leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry. I'll tutor you. My rates are cheap—just one smile per session."

Jason rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "You're annoying."

"Thank you," she said brightly, like he'd complimented her.

He put his earbuds back in and tried to pretend she didn't exist.