Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills
5
After class, I take off for the restrooms. My stomach growls yet it’s uneasy at the same time, my nerves tense and ready for anyone who gets close to me. In hindsight, I should have eaten the toast and eggs the nuns set out, but I was wired. Everything hinges on today. If I can make it…
I find the last stall and sit down.
One class down.
Five periods left.
Pulling the locket out from under my shirt, I brush my fingers over it. Cheap and old, I found it on the floor at one of the various shelters Mama and I wandered in and out of. I recall asking around to see if it belonged to anyone, but no one claimed it, and since there wasn’t even a picture inside, I finally decided it was meant to be mine. I snap it open and stare down at the tiny picture of Tyler, his big eyes and spikey brown hair. We look nothing alike. “Such a sweet baby,” I murmur. “We got this, bozo.”
One final breath then I leave and walk down the hall, staying on the right-hand side near the line of lockers, headed toward the headmaster’s office. Everyone walks and talks around me. Piper has zipped off to her second class, and I won’t see her until lunch.
Sometimes the loneliest place on earth is in the midst of a crowd.
But that’s okay. I’m here and that means something.
I enter the office, and it’s frantic with students and teachers milling around. First day craziness.
“What is it, doll?” says Mrs. Carmichael, the office secretary. Unsurprisingly, she looks flustered, her faded brown hair up in a tight bun with a pen tucked behind her ear. Little strands stick out everywhere. Slightly plump, she’s wearing a flowy blouse with giant pink flowers on it.
I clear my throat. “Headmaster Trask asked me to come in this morning. My name is Ava Harris. I would have come earlier, but I barely made it to my first period.”
She blinks, her back straightening, obviously registering my name. Yeah, I’m her.
I gaze back at her blankly. Please don’t pity me.
She nods. “I see. Are you sure he didn’t mean the end of the day?” She looks over at the headmaster’s shut door. “He’s very busy on the first day back.”
Someone, a deliveryman, bumps into me as he carries in a large box full of printed pamphlets and places it up on the counter. She signs for them, obviously forgetting about me, and I start to argue and let her know he told me I was to come in the morning, but I decide to let it go. I’ve had enough confrontations today.
RING!
The bell dings over the intercom, and I watch tardy students through the glass doors, darting around and running to class.
I let out a sigh. My other class is on the opposite side of the building. I turn back to ask for a hall pass, but she’s arguing with the deliveryman, telling him the colors are all wrong.
I’m about to leave when I see Knox come out of Mr. Trask’s office. Wait a minute—I can’t see the headmaster in the morning, but he can? Huh. My face reddens, and I clutch my books close to my chest.
“Problems already?” he murmurs as he stops in front of me.
Mrs. Carmichael looks up and calls Knox’s name, telling him she’ll write him a pass back to class.
My lips compress. “I’m supposed to see Mr. Trask, but it looks like you took up any free time he might have, and now I’m relegated to going to class.”
“Oh.” He turns to Mrs. Carmichael, who’s busy writing him a pass. “Maxine, Ava was supposed to see the headmaster. Will you buzz him?”
Maxine?Seriously?
She cocks her head and moves her gaze from me to him. She looks annoyed, but clearly she’s too busy with the pamphlet man to argue any further. She gives us a quick nod.
“I don’t need your help, Cold and Evil,” I mutter. “Why were you in there anyway? Trying to change your schedule so you don’t have to sit with me in class?”
His gaze brushes over me. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy sitting next to you. You’re quite fascinating, charity case.”
“Why, sitting next to the King of Camden is certain to be the most scintillating experience of my whole life.”
“He’ll see you now, Ava. Head on in,” Mrs. Carmichael says as she gestures to the shut door.
“Later, Tulip,” he murmurs, walking past me.
“Stop calling me that!” I snap to his back as he walks out of the office, broad shoulders swaying.
Giving the secretary a nod, I open Mr. Trask’s office door.
A short, balding man in his fifties, he wears a genial expression on his face as I stand in the doorway. He smiles carefully. “Ava, there you are. I was waiting for you, come on in. Have a seat. It’s wonderful you decided to come back to Camden.”
Sitting in a plush, brown leather chair, I nod my head in agreement, but I know there wasn’t much choice for me in the matter. Goals—they’re what pushed me to walk back into this hellhole.
Another tenuous smile from him as he comes around and sits on his desk, his hands folded in his lap. “As I mentioned on the phone last week, we can easily add your grades from last year to our curriculum here. It even appears you’re ahead in calculus. The tutors at Sisters of Charity did a great job with homeschooling.”
I smile, but just barely.
The tutors sucked. I actually did everything myself. I researched and found a homeschooling program accepted in Tennessee public schools, read the material myself, and took every test, legitimately and without cheating. A few times I even snuck into local colleges near the group home and sat in the back taking notes. Thankfully those classes were so packed no one seemed to notice.
“You won’t be disappointed by your decision to put last year behind you. Camden really is the best place for you.”
This is the worst place I could be.
In fact, my original plan was to go back to the public school where I attended middle school, but there’s Tyler, and I have to think about his future too.
Mr. Trask pulls out a stack of papers in a folder and opens it up. He’s holding my actual permanent record and my fingers itch to snatch it out of his hands, wondering if the keg party is documented there. I’m certain it is. Every football player at the party was reprimanded, suspended for a week while the police conducted their interviews. A fucking week. As for me, I never came back to Camden after that night, spending a few days at Piper’s until I went back to the group home.
That was then.
This is now.
He says, “Your GPA will continue to be competitive with the rest of the student body, and you’ll be eligible for final class rankings.” He places a piece of paper in my hand. “So if you’ll just sign here, you will be fully enrolled again. Just like you never left.”
“Any word on housing?” When we spoke on the phone last week, he said we’d discuss it today. I didn’t expect him to agree, but living on campus would make things easier, especially the terrible morning commute from Nashville. Plus, the nuns aren’t responsible for me anymore, and even though they’ve given me this extra time, they need room for other kids.
“Ah, yes,” he says, smiling. “I have very good news. There’s an opening in the dorms and it’s yours. No charge.”
Surprise makes me blink. I came prepared to battle for a free dorm room. “But you weren’t even sure the board would agree to pay for my housing. What’s changed?”
He nods. “Actually, we have an anonymous donor who’s offered to cover the cost.”
“Who? I mean, I assume most of the board is angry with me for last year.”
He sighs, an uncertain look on his face. “The person wishes to remain anonymous. And, I assure you, the board is not angry with you. We want to help you. I have two daughters myself, and I just…” He stops, clearing his throat, obviously pushing aside whatever he was going to say as he looks at me, thinking, choosing his words carefully. “As you know from our conversation earlier, we don’t normally allow local residents to utilize the dorms, but since you’re a special case, I’ve overruled that policy and granted the opening to you. You can move in today if you like. Miss Henderson is the dorm mom and she’s expecting you. Just show up after school and get settled.”
I’m flabbergasted. That’s at least ten grand for the whole year!
Who was it? A guilty parent who knows their son hurt me?
Regardless of who it is, having housing here will make life much easier. I’ll have a private room where I can study and focus. Sure, I’ll miss Tyler, but I can visit him every afternoon, and it’s not like we share a room or keep the same hours except for dinnertime anyway. The younger kids sleep on a different wing from the older kids at the group home.
I nod, moving on and focusing. “I mentioned my brother Tyler and his situation last week. He’s six and has special needs, and the crowded school he’s zoned for in Nashville isn’t doing him any favors. They barely pay him any attention.” I chew on my lips, recalling an incident last year where he actually left the school and wandered off near the river. It was a frantic four hours until the police found him on the shore tossing rocks into the water. What if he’d fallen in? What if someone had abducted him? It’s a terrible part of town, addicts living in abandoned buildings on every corner. I’m used to those places; he’s not. “I want him at the Camden elementary campus. I know you have a department devoted solely to helping kids with special needs.”
He stands, walks around to his chair, and sits. “Your brother…that’s an entirely new scholarship, and our board has already fulfilled our quota for the year. You, on the other hand, were a previous student here, one with incredible SAT scores.”
My chest rises. I think about my brother, his small-for-his-age stature and slightly disjointed fingers. Diagnosed with fetal alcohol syndrome at birth, he has some developmental delays and attention issues. He’s never going to be everything he can be at the place he’s zoned for.
My resolve builds. “With all due respect, Mr. Trask, I’m not coming back unless he’s enrolled. One of the nuns has agreed to drive him back and forth every day just like they did for me before I turned sixteen. He needs this, and he’s not unruly. He’s kind and sweet and smart, and all he needs is a place with good people to care about him. And he’s an orphan. Our mother abandoned him.” I hate using that word, but if it helps, I’ll throw it around.
He grimaces, and I continue.
“I’ve already filled out all the paperwork.” I pull it out of my backpack and set it on his desk. I copied it using the printer at Lou’s diner. “There has to be a spot for him at the elementary campus. Just one.” The thought of seeing Tyler actually get the services he deserves makes my palms sweat. I swallow, thinking fast, my mouth saying things I don’t know I can deliver on. “Look, forget the scholarship for him. I…I can pay you back a little at a time. I have some savings and a job. I’m a great waitress. It won’t be much, and you can charge me interest or whatever your administration prefers, but I swear, I will pay for his tuition, and then when I get to college, I can get another job, maybe one that pays more, and—”
“Ava.” He cuts me off. “I can’t give you a loan. To even enroll him with a payment plan, I’d need half of the money. Do you have fifteen thousand dollars?”
My gut clenches. “No.”
“My dear…” His voice softens. “All monies for scholarships have already been allocated for this year. It’s out of my hands.”
I stand up. I didn’t walk in here today just to be turned down so quickly. I’m prepared to fight. I look down at the Anaïs Nin quote on my backpack, words I put there with a sharpie. Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.
Never give up, Ava.
“Then ask that donor, or call the administration at the campus to check for sure, because I promise you this: if you don’t find Tyler a spot on your roster, you’re going to lose me. I can drive down the road to Morganville, and they’ll roll out the red carpet. You and I both know my scores are some of the best this school has ever seen. You wouldn’t have called me and asked me to come back if I wasn’t poised to put Camden at the top of the list of best private schools in the state. Do you really want your biggest competition bragging about my scores?”
I’m bluffing about Morganville, who also happens to be our biggest football rival. The only reason I haven’t approached them already is they don’t have the special needs program Camden does.
“Plus, I came back here. I came back. Doesn’t that look good for those future students who might be wondering about the moral quality of the young men you’re educating here? Maybe there’s a future football star out there wondering if Camden is the right place for him. Maybe there’s a smart girl who can afford Camden, but she goes to Morganville instead because she’s heard rumors.” I hesitate. I do like him, always have, but… “I get requests for my story from reporters who don’t have a thing to do with this town, who aren’t afraid of the money here. Would you like to see me on some national morning show? I’d hate to draw unwanted attention back to Camden and perhaps suggest that this school and town didn’t do enough for me.” My voice cracks. It’s a lie. There are no reporters. Nobody gave a shit about what happened to me.
He takes his glasses off and wipes at them slowly, a surprised expression on his lined face. His eyes crinkle as he squints at me. “I don’t remember you being quite this…assertive.”
“There’s a lot that’s different about me, Mr. Trask.”
He runs his gaze over my hair, giving me a long, searching look and then a sigh and a nod. “I see that, and I’m sorry for it. Deeply.”
Just give me what I need.
He smiles briefly. “Let me make some phone calls and get back to you by the end of the day. Will that work?”
Nodding, I move to the door. “He’s the only thing I’m living for right now. If he’s not near me, this”—I wave my hands around—“is a no-go. I won’t sign anything.”
He nods. “End of day, I’ll let you know.”
I walk out of the office and, lo and behold, Mrs. Carmichael has a pass ready.
I saunter out into the hall, feeling proud that Ava 2.0 does indeed have a backbone.
All I have is this one year to set everything right, and if I’m going to be miserable here, at least my brother will get a fresh start.
