Avery's (terrible) Guide To Have Fun

09 : fairy pixie dust

I shake my head and say, "I am fine." My feet steadied themselves. "What about lacrosse? Will you give your position to the captain? You already have a chance to get into the Ivy League through this computer science seminar."

He let out a chuckle. "And? Nothing is fixed. There will be tons of better people than me. Over 80 high schools participate in this. And in our school, there are more worthy candidates than me. I was the last name that got in. I won't give up lacrosse. It is still my only sure bet. But you tell me, why are you hearing so early? Don't you have classes from 10?" The bell rings before I can answer, "See you in history, bitch." Before disappearing into the crowd.

My phone pings in my pocket. The message causes me to flinch. Before I make bad decisions, I head to Ms. Blatt's office.

—

I AM A LOT OF THINGS, AND SO I HAVE BEEN CALLED. When the bell for lunch rings, I leave the school. When I give my premise, I am not that interesting. I have a younger sister, whose braids I do before she leaves for school. She draws me stick figures every Sunday to place them on my vision board; she expects that I threw the last one, but they are still tucked in a shoe box above my cupboard. Her drawings are a variety of things; they are her diary about what she liked the best that day. She knocks before entering my room and clings to me. She wants me to help her draw. I know her off my shoulder and onto the chair; I rather like her stick figures. She signs her name "Shafqat" at the bottom of the page with a sparkle. Her toothy grin makes my sour days brighter. We don't really share facial features; when her photo pops up on my phone, she makes my lips tug upwards.

"What happened?"

I can hear her smile. "Nothing! I am going to school today!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's going to be so much fun!"

My mother's voice cut in the background: "I am sorry for this disturbance, baacha. She won't let me tie her shoelace if I don't call her."

"Ha, Kamil!" Shafqat giggles, and she is immediately scolded by her mother to not call elders by their first names. I prefer any way she wants.

I tuck my hands in my pocket and sit on the waiting chairs at the bus station. "Shafqat! You will tell me how the day was, right? When will I come back home?"

"Yes, bhaiya!"

"So, now you have to head out, right? Best of luck, hm? Do well and keep smiling, okay?"

"Alright, come home soon, ok?"

But before I can answer her, the call ends. She must have dropped the phone, which does not even fit her hands anymore.

The cold air tickles my forehead as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don't even guess twice.

"Bro, come on, at least be fucking surprised."

"I will be if you learn to be discreet."

"God, fuck you."

I laugh as he takes a seat beside me. His hair is tucked behind his ears. The sun shines off his face, highlighting his features. Features of being a bitch, if you want me to be honest.

He squints his eyes. I have had so much sun exposure that I feel like I can stare back at it. "Why are you here, Ramos?"

"Why do you even call me 'Ramos, Qureshi'?"

"Because we have two Averys, what's your excuse?"

"We are not very close to being first-name biased."

I dig the bottom of my palm into my eyeballs and say, "Oh my god, so much thought."

"I know right, it is rare."

"What are you doing here?"

"Basking the sun."

When I glanced at him, he was sitting at the side that got the least sunlight. "Yeah, sure."

"Why do you even follow me so much?"

My eyes roll off. "Me? You followed me!"

He lets out a chuckle. "I know."

"So, if you don't explain your reasons, I might have to call the cops."

"Okay, fine! Do you like Elliot?"

"What?" Actually, this was not sudden at all. I met Elliot Bridges at a summer camp last year. Or, to simplify, I have known her all my life. We shared the same middle school, the same elementary school, and even the same preschool. But I properly met her at the summer camp in which we both volunteered last year. She is definitely an intelligent woman. She is a few inches shorter than Avery, and everyone loves her. When we talked in camp last year, she looked a little different. She had cut her hair shorter but still wore herself with the same (if not better) confidence. Elliot caught everyone's attention in the camp when she won the award for being the best counselor a year before the last. "Everyone likes her, Avery." is my automated response.

"Bro, exactly. Someone is sending Elliot terrible poetry love letters, and she wants to know if they are from you. Actually, I think she wants to believe that it is from you."

I shake my head, unable to process what he is saying. The sun must be getting to me. "It is not from me; I can assure you that."

He nods his head slowly. "Do you like her?"

"Why are you asking me?"

He shrugs. I can feel his eyes on me when I stand. Avery turns his gaze on the road. "Just making sure. I like you as a friend, but I would never hesitate to punch you if anything happens to Elliot." By his tone, I knew he was completely serious. God, I want to strangle this man with a piece of anything that is available within my distance.

Ramos straightens himself as he gets up. "Well, see you in history, Qureshi?" He flashes me one of his brightest smiles, and my stomach drops. I don't even hear him leave. When I made out with Avery, Kate was at my ass to get back to me. Her anger rose to a level where it took Libby and Matthew to get her off my neck. Even in lacrosse, she is one of the strongest female players in lacrosse. But since last year's mishap, they have been suspended from playing in any competition for two years.

No one knew about us until Avery babbled about it in class, and the rumors spread like fire. Back in junior year, Libby and I had to handle the students's homecoming week. We had funds, which were later stolen by our ex-best friend Josh, who once used to be our closest friend. At that time, Kate gave us money, which we still paid back after we found out the culprit. She has saved my neck a lot of times, including when I accidentally got drunk at a party and my parents would have me by my neck. My own embarrassment was enough that I could not meet my father's eyes for a few weeks. Kate knows I owe her, and she uses this every time. I really don't mind it half the time. Kate is one of my very good friends, but will it really be alright to sabotage someone's grades for revenge?

When Kate heard about that, I and Avery got detention, and it was her decision that we should do the activity together. She knew that I could talk to Ms. Blatt about changing the topic and not tell Avery about it until it was too late. Avery does not really like keeping up with teachers like I do, except for our coach. There would be no way he would find out about the change in program. And it was easy to convince Ms. Blatt of the change. It would rather render Avery confused and fail the project, even though the teacher will also deduce a few of my marks. The bell rings inside the school to indicate that lunch is over. I have been called a lot of things, but I don't want "backstabber" to be added to it. Over the past week, I have talked to Avery more than I ever have. He has been real with me all the way. I type in a message to Kate that I cannot do this to Avery. That I am going to tell him.

But he vanishes into thin air. Avery Ramos is nowhere to be seen until the last bell of the history class rings.

—

a/n : not my fav chapter, but then kamil is not a man of words.