Page 34 of April Flowers

But before Noah began to speak, Avery interrupted him.

“You were right,” she said. “I wasn’t ready to go to school yet.”

Noah tilted his head with surprise. He wanted her to continue.

“I felt so stupid,” Avery offered. “I don’t know any of the things they’re learning. I don’t remember any French. I took a test on the Revolutionary War about two years ago, and they haven’t even gotten to that in history class yet.” She picked at her grilled cheese and looked reticent and regretful, as though she hadn’t planned to tell Noah so much of what was on her mind.

Noah rubbed his chest. “Did any of them remember you?”

Avery raised her shoulders. “A few girls came up to me and said, like, aren’t you Avery Carson? But when I said yes, I think they remembered that they never really liked me, anyway. They started gossiping about me. I think I heard them talking about Mom.”

Noah’s heart soured.

“You know how it is,” Avery said. “When I was growing up, Mom was a single mom. I never had the right clothes, the right lunch, or anything else. I got used to it. I should still be used to it. I’m just a little distracted or something.”

Noah sat in disbelief. Avery sounded so grown up—far more grown up than a teenager who’d run away not once but twice in the span of a week and a half.

He wanted to ask why she left without telling him. Why didn’t she call?

But instead, he asked, “Do you want to hold off on school for a while?”

Avery shook her head quickly and violently. “No. I can’t let them win, you know?”

Then why did she leave school today?Noah burned to ask it. He rubbed his chest harder and faster.

Avery took a big bite of grilled cheese and turned her attention to the television. They were still talking about the ice-skater. Noah was suddenly ashamed that Avery didn’t have a beautiful future ahead of her the way that ice-skater did. Should Noah have stepped in a long time ago? Should he have tried to help Mona raise her better?

But what was “better,” anyway?

Suddenly, Noah remembered his phone. He knew he had to contact Sam and tell her he’d found Avery. Avery watched him get up, her eyes stirring with curiosity. He hovered over the sofa for a second, squeezing his hands into fists.

Finally, he said, “Please, Avery.”

Avery tilted her head.

“Please, don’t do that to me again.”

Avery bowed her head. It was like she was too ashamed to look at him.

Noah wondered if that was enough. Maybe he didn’t have to pester her about where she’d been, why she’d left, or what had happened. Perhaps he never had to know why she’d run away from the wake, where she’d gone, and why she’d wound up here. Maybe he and Avery could have a fresh start—beginning today. Perhaps from here on out, they could be honest with one another. Maybe.

But when Noah found his phone in his truck, everything changed.

Sam had called him seven times.

She’d also texted: Sorry to sound so frantic. But there’s something you need to know.

Noah stood in the violent February chill, staring at the phone. This felt out of nowhere. This felt terrifying. But when he turned to look at the house, he took comfort in the fact that he could see the flicker of the television. He knew that Avery was inside. Maybe she’d already stolen the remote and changed the channel to something she wanted to watch. Perhaps after this, he’d pour himself into a five-hour marathon of a dating show. Maybe they’d pick sides and argue about who should win and who should lose.

Maybe he and Avery could live pleasantly and happily—without ever having super-serious conversations about what had happened and what they needed to do.

Whatever Sam “needed him to know” couldn’t matter. Right?

But his phone started ringing again. It was Sam. He bit his tongue and answered it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s been crazy here,” he said. “Avery showed up.”

Sam gasped with relief. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

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