Page 47 of The Crafting Con

And now my eyes are burning, the memory of that night playing on loop all around us. It was right here, in this very park, only I’d been sitting motionless on the swing, and Ava had been standing in front of me, pale and wraith-like in the streetlight. Voice cold as death. We can’t be friends anymore.

The first drop of rain struck my face as she turned and walked away.

I didn’t move from the swing until my mom came out looking for me, flashlight and umbrella in tow. I was soaked to the bone. It was weeks before I felt warm again.

“Why did you do it?” Ava’s eyes open, and I swallow as I investigate their shimmering depths. “I mean, I know it had to do with your dad leaving, and I get why you’d want to distance yourself from things that reminded you of him, but to just end things so completely like that…”

We lived down the street from each other. Went to the same school, were in the same grade. The lengths she must have gone through to avoid me were mind-boggling. For five freaking years.

Surely there was more to it.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

She says it so quietly, I almost miss it. My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

She rolls onto her side, facing away from me in the growing darkness. The street lights flicker to life, but their harsh, white glow fails to fully reach us. “When Dad came home from Phoenix Con that year and told us he was moving across the country to be with his ‘soulmate,’ it was bad. Mom hadn’t seen it coming. Like, at all. She was furious. Yelling, screaming, throwing clothes, smashing wedding crystal. It was like living in a war zone.”

I grimace just thinking about it. “That sounds awful.”

She pulls her legs into her chest, and I scoot closer when she shivers. The urge to wrap my arms around her is strong, but I hold back, uncertain as to how she’d react. My gut tells me she needs to get this out, and I’m afraid if I so much as breathe too loud, she might shut down and leave. Again.

“It was,” she whispers. “But at least I could understand it. Anger I could deal with. I was angry too. But then he was gone, and it was like he took some vital piece of her with him. She would just stop functioning for long periods of time. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk. Just sleep and drink. And drink and drink. I was living with an inebriated ghost. And then after a day or so, I’d see a glimpse of her old self again, and I’d think, We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be okay. But then the lights would switch off, and she was gone again. I was so scared, tiptoeing around the house, trying to get her to eat, not knowing what to say or do to make things better.”

My heart breaks for the girl trying to be strong all by herself in such a messed-up situation, but it doesn’t explain why she pushed me away. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? I know I was only twelve, but I would have done everything I could to help if I’d known. My parents would have taken you in.”

“And then what? They call child services on my mom?” There’s a soft sniffle, and Ava rolls onto her back to look up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I couldn’t risk it, Dec. I couldn’t risk leaving Mom by herself, not like that. And besides… Mom’s ‘departures,’ I realized… they always happened when she saw or heard something that reminded her of Dad or conventions. I came downstairs one morning wearing my Fruits Basket hoodie, and she just froze up, staring at it. And just like that, she’d shut down again. From a hoodie.” Her face crumples, and the tears I’ve been holding back slip free when she reaches up to cup my cheek. “You were so much like him—only in the good ways, but still. I couldn’t chance having you around.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain school. Why did you have to cut me off so completely?” I swallow, fighting against the mass of bottled-up feelings attempting to explode. I layer my hand over hers, willing myself not to fall apart. “If you had explained about your mom, I would’ve kept my distance when you were home. We still could have been friends.”

Guilt bleeds from her watery eyes, and she squeezes them shut, her voice little more than a raspy whisper. “It wasn’t just her.”

I frown, drawing her hand down away from my face. “What do you mean?”

She shakes her head.

It’s my turn to touch her face, grazing my thumb over her cheekbone before cupping her chin. “Ava.” I wait for her to open her eyes and meet my gaze. When she finally does, I press, “What do you mean it wasn’t just her?”

She sniffs, and I can see her heart breaking before my eyes. “Whenever I looked at you, all I could think about was him. I… I couldn’t bear it. I told myself I was pushing you away for my mom’s sake because that made me feel like I was doing something noble, when in reality”—her voice drops so low I have to lean in to make out the words—“it just hurt too much to be with you back then.”

My hand drops to my lap. My gut is a hollow pit. “I see.”

She wipes away a fresh wave of tears, voice cracking. “You need to know, though, that leaving you like I did—it may have saved me a little pain in the short-term, but as the years passed, it was your absence and not my dad’s that hurt the most. I missed you so much, Dec. Every single day.”

The dam fully breaks. I finally give in, pulling her into my arms while I lie in the grass beside her. My lips brush her hair as I whisper, “I missed you too, Aves.”

Her hands clutch my shirt as she curls into me. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

I run a hand over her hair, smoothing it down. “You won’t.”

Her grip tightens, and I almost miss the words she mumbles against my chest. “I really hope you’re right.”

A shiver rolls over my skin, and I mold myself around her. Holding on to this moment for all I’m worth. “So do I,” I breathe into her hair. “So do I.”

CHAPTER 19

AVA

Four days until OA Con