yours | adam banks.

chapter three

adam

I haven't been able to find out more about Ava and what happened. Which is strange because the girl literally lives two houses across from me. As soon as I got home from hanging out with Charlie and everyone else, it was like my eyes were trained to my bedroom window, looking out to the road and the section of the house that I know is Ava's bedroom.

But the lights are off, there's no car in the driveway. I sit at my desk anxious, completely stressed out. What if I was the last person to have seen her? What if she was kidnapped by whoever she got into the car with? What if her parents went to pick her up only to find out that their daughter had vanished?

In the back of my mind I knew I sounded crazy but at this point every plausible and implausible reason was flashing through my head. She had been crying her eyes out and I had just stood there like a crazy, stalkerish buffoon gawking at her from across the street. What if she had saw me? An embarrassed flush covers my face and I roll my eyes. I'm such an idiot.

Why had I listened to Charlie and not skated over there demanding to know what was going on? Wait, no that would have been crazy. Ava would never want to speak to me again.

Should I even be this concerned? The first time we had spoken in three years was a casual conversation in the hallway. It probably meant nothing. What right do I have to be so caught up in whatever she was doing?

I groaned and buried my head in my crossed arms. How could I not care? It was Ava Colby. I've known the girl since forever. It was so weird to not have a single word of conversation for the three years we didn't talk. I missed it far too much then I'd care to admit.

Her calling me Banksie was strange. It's a nickname I have by a lot of people but she was the first one to coin it as her own. Along with Shooter, but I mostly begged her to call me it when we were nine because I thought it sounded cool. I mean, I taught the girl to skate.

She had these mint condition, pearly white skates fresh out the box from where she had them tucked away in the back of her closet, never fully broken in. She did figure skating for a maximum of a month before quitting to do cheerleading. Ava had admitted to me that the only reason she even set foot on the ice in the first place was that she wanted to be able to relate and talk to me about something that had a little bit of correlation to hockey.

When she had said it my ten year old heart had filled with this weirdly warm tingle and I had smiled so widely before teasing the girl half to death, causing her to sulk and go back to doing cartwheels and who knows what else.

Most memorable for me were probably the times in the winter when the pond froze over and I'd have to teach Ava how to skate again every time because it just wouldn't enter her muscle memory. The poor girl really wasn't the skating type.

It was almost pitch black outside now, the street lamps flickering on and lighting everything up on the street with an amber glow. Another glance to Ava's house. No car. No lights.

With a flick of a switch, my desk lamp brightens my otherwise dark room. If Mom comes in she'll be wondering why I'm acting like a caveman. There's homework waiting unfinished on my desk, pages strewn across it haphazardly. I pick up a pen and start writing, something about ethics I'm not even fully sure. As long as it's finished.

Another hour creeps by and there's still no sign of Colby. I know I won't be able to sleep till she comes back and I know for certain her body hasn't been dumped into the ocean by some questionable figure. Dark, but true nonetheless.

Time creeps more and more into the night as my body becomes tired, my mind still woefully awake. Why can't I just drop it? Not to sound like a wuss but I have school tomorrow. Along with hockey practice before that.

I'm just about to lose my sanity when there's a familiar rumble of a car's engine as it pulls into a driveway and immediately my attention perks, head lifted from its place in my arms, looking around wildly for the brunette girl.

Car doors open and a couple steps out, Ava's parents. Her father heads for the door before opening it and disappearing inside. Her mother hurries over to the backseat door of the car and opens it widely. A huge sigh of relief leaves my chest.

Ava shuffles out of the car, looking tired and moody, her mom fretting about her, guiding her up the driveway. The motion sensors light up the pathway and I can't help but stare.

Ava's got an ace bandage wrapped around her right shoulder, keeping it immobilized. Dread and pity fills my stomach and I ache to run over there and give her a hug. In hindsight, it is very late at night and I would most definitely hurt the poor girl.

Something must've happened at cheer.

I'm an idiot. She'd been at the Edina Cheer parking lot. Why did that detail completely exit my thoughts. There's me thinking she had been kidnapped or killed when in reality she's broken her shoulder during cheer practice.

Shit. She broke her shoulder during practice. Some kid must've dropped her or something. What was her position again? Floater...wait, right, she's a FLYER.

I guess she won't be cheering anytime soon. God.

I go against my wandering thoughts of going over there right now to bombard her with questions and stand up from my desk, yanking my curtains closed. I flick out the light and lay down in bed.

The poor girl must feel terrible right now.

There's a quick three raps of knocks on my door before my mom peeks her head through after she opens it. When she sees me looking right back at her she tuts.

"Sleep. Now." 

A nod is the only thing I do and watch as she closes the door right over. I close my eyes and let out a deep, long sigh.

The only thing I dream of is hockey pucks and candy pink pom poms.