Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (14 page)

I take a step closer so we're standing next to each other.
“Nah,” I say, and she jolts a little at the sound of my voice. “And even if there are, none of them are going to be staring at you.”

Ava doesn't look away.
“How do you know that?”

I stare at her like it's obvious, but I gesture to my coat, hat, umbrella, and then finally, my magenta hair.

She cracks an almost authentic smile for the first time. “Oh.”

“
Yeah,” I say, hand on the door, ready to push it open. “So don't worry. We can always leave if you don't want to be here.”

She nods, maybe resolving to not let something so mundane as going into a hair salon get the best of her, then Ava steps ahead of me and opens the door herself.

It takes the stylist about thirty minutes to do Ava’s hair; all she got were the ends trimmed off and a blow dry. I'm the genius who thought it'd be the best time to get my hair dyed for the first time by professionals.

But it seems like for the first time all day, Ava's beginning to relax. She sits in the empty seat next to me as the fishbowl hair dryer warms the tinfoil stuck to my head.

“So how long has your hair been pink?” she asks. It seems like she doesn’t know what to do with her thick, black hair running over her shoulders in sleek, tame waves rather than the natural big curls I've seen on her. I think she looks beautiful, but maybe that's why she's uncomfortable.

“
Since about seventh grade,” I yell over the static sound of the dryer. “I tried blue and purple and even black once. I just think magenta is the best one.”

“
Is it your favorite color?”

I snort.
“You know,” I say, “I
hate
pink. But I like my hair this color.”

Ava laughs, but I can’t hear it over the hair dryer.

This is kind of awesome. Being a girl and doing girl things. Not worrying about vampires or crazy ex-boyfriends and how they know about said vampires.

“
I've never had red in it before,” I continue. “Well, before today that is.” The stylist convinced me that I should try red and light pink streaks along with the flamingo color I usually have.

A few minutes later, my stylist comes back to wash the dye out before leading me to a chair in front of a mirror where she begins to comb out my hair and trim off the split ends. Ava sits next to me in a vacant chair.

“How long have you and Myles been together?” Ava’s voice sounds slightly nervous, like she's afraid that I don't want to talk about it for whatever reason.

“
Well,” I say. “Officially, since last winter,” I shrug under the smock draped over my shoulders. “But we've known each other for almost a year, I guess.”

“
That's really good,” she says, though I can’t see her at the moment because my wet hair is being combed out over my eyes so the stylist can part it.

I shrug again.
“Yeah, I guess.”

“
I'm happy he found you,” Ava says, and I get to see a smile from her when the veil of pink and red is lifted. “He deserves to be happy.”

“
How long have you known Myles?” I ask.

“
Oh,” She pretends to be preoccupied with studying the ends of her hair, but I know that look anywhere. She’s trying to distract herself. “A while.” There's a carefulness in her tone, like she doesn't want to push the subject too far. “Since my
car
accident.”

I stare past my reflection and into hers as the stylist opens a drawer to plug in a hand-held dryer.

“Huh.” It's my only response, but something unspoken and powerful passes between us.

We don’t really talk again until my hair is dry and we walk to the front counter where I'm prepared to spend a good portion of my first paycheck.

“I’ve got it.” Ava steps in front of me and hands over a shiny gold credit card, smiling sheepishly as she does so. “Your hair looks nice,” she says.

I have a hard time disagreeing with her. The red and pink look awesome, but I’m
 not sure how I feel about her paying for it.

“
I can get it,” I say, “You don't have to do that.”

She waves a hand in my direction as the receptionist hands back the card.
“Being in situations like ours has its perks at times,” she says quietly as we exit the building and I replace my hat on my head and glasses around my face to protect my skin from the blazing June sun.

“
So,” I say as she’s taking a cell out of her purse, presumably to call the car that dropped her off. “Do you want to like, hang out?”

Ava looks to her phone then to me.
“I don’t know.”

“
You don’t have to,” I say. “I was just going to watch some movies.”

She stares at the cell one last time.
“Let me just call Evan to tell him where I am,” she says.

We get back to my apartment at about three. I want to text Boo and Trei to tell them to come over earlier, but then I pause. “Is it okay if my friends join us?” I ask. It sounds stupid, asking someone in my own place whether it’s okay to have friends at a movie night, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Actually, this girl and all of her awkward shyness makes me want to do the exact opposite.

“
Sure,” she says. “The boy and girl from your band, right?”

I nod.
“And Myles can probably come too. I just don't know when,” I say. Then, I add on, “Evan is totally welcome as well.”

“
Oh.” Ava wraps her arms around her middle. “I don't think it’s his thing.”

I have to admit, I'm kind of relieved. Not that I don't think Evan is a perfectly nice guy, but I would be a little uneasy having him in my house, and I'm
not even completely sure why.

Now I'm not sure what to do with her.

Ava seems to feel the same awkward silence surrounding us because she says, “I like your apartment.” She  steps in front of the couch to take in Myles’ painting. “And I recognize that.”

“
Thanks,” I say. “Myles told me you guys paint together?”

She nods, not taking her eyes off of it.
“It helps my anxiety,” she says. “Keeping my hands busy like that.”

So she has anxiety problems? I guess that makes sense. We’re both quiet.

“Trei says they’ll be up in fifteen minutes,” I say, suddenly getting an idea of how to occupy ourselves. “You want me to show you around while we wait?”

Ava finally turns so she's facing me. I notice that again, the clothing she's wearing is covering most of her body, but the dress' baggy sleeves fall away from her right wrist when she runs a hand through her hair and I see a few scars. They look a lot like the one on Myles’ collarbone. I make sure my eyes don't linger very long when she smiles nervously, re-adjusting the fabric and clasping her hands together in front of her.

“Okay,” she says.

I step in front of her.
“Well, this is the living room,” I say, gesturing to the couch and TV.

I take a few steps forward.
“And this is the kitchen.” I point to the fridge. “Sorry,” I say, almost instantly feeling ridiculous because there isn't much to show her. “We can do something else if you want.”

Ava comes to stand at my side instead of behind me.
“No.” She wraps her arms around her waist. “This is fine,” she assures me.

“
Okay,” I say. “Well, cool.”

I show her the rest of my apartment, picking up dirty laundry in my room when I show her that, and not flicking on the light in the bathroom when we get there because I can't remember the last time I swept.

“And,” I say once we're back in the kitchen, “that's pretty much it.”

We're quiet again. Ava barely said two words to me through the whole thing, and now that it's over, she hasn't said anything else.

“You want something to drink?” I ask.

Ava swallows, nervously smiling again before she says,
“Just water, please.”

I nod before turning away to get a water bottle out of the fridge.

The door to the refrigerator isn’t even shut when I hear a loud bang that causes me to turn back around.

And Ava’s on the floor.

My eyes widen in their sockets, my breath catches in my lungs, my heart bumps against my ribs.

“
Are you okay?” The fridge door shuts. It’s a rhetorical question. There is no way she’s alright.

Then sounds start coming from her. At first it's just wheezing, her breath coming in and out too fast as she curls in on herself on the linoleum. She grabs at her stomach, her chest, like some animal is trying to claw its way out of her body. Then she shakes her head no.

It all only happens in a matter of three, maybe four seconds, but everything is moving too slowly. Each movement of mine is weighted, like there is all the time in the world to watch this poor girl suffer.

In another three seconds, I'm snatching my phone from the counter and trying to punch in Myles' number. That's when the coughing starts, and then there's red liquid on the white tiles.

At that moment, the door to my apartment is bursting open and I'm praying that it's not Boo or Trei.

I'm half-expecting Mr.-show-up-at-the-right-time, but it's Evan who's standing there, breathing heavily with his fingers digging into the doorframe.

“Invite me in.” It's not a question, it's a command.

It barely leaves my mouth, but I say,
“Come in.”

Evan moves too fast for me to see, and all my brain registers is his golden hair passing by me as he kneels down next to the girl on my kitchen floor. He's saying things to her, but I can't hear him. I can't just stand here either, so I kneel next to him.

Ava is still coughing and gagging. She makes sounds I have never, ever heard in my life and they’re scaring the crap out of me. I gulp. Evan is touching her face, trying to get her to look at him, and speaking so low into her ear that I can’t understand what he’s saying. I’m guessing he’s trying to get her mind on something else, but Ava doesn't respond. She closes her eyes and coughs a blood-loogie directly onto Evan's shirt.

“
Step back,” Evan says to me, like he's telling a toddler to not get too close to the stove.

I'm hyper-
aware of the fact that I'm shaking, but I don't know what to do with myself. I can't just walk away.

“
What should I do?” I ask.

“
Get me something cold,” he says without taking his eyes off of Ava's gasping frame.

She's stopped coughing for the moment, but her eyes are still closed.
“Do you have ice?

I nod, almost tripping when I try to stand up to go back to the fridge.

Myles shows up around the same time I have a few ice cubes in a plastic bag, only placing a hand on my shoulder for a second before taking the ice from me and kneeling with Evan on the floor.

“
How long?” Myles asks Evan.

He takes some time to answer, concentrating on keeping Ava's body still.
“Five minutes.”

Has it really only been that long?

Myles gently pushes Evan out of the way so he's sitting next to him. Evan doesn’t take his hands off of Ava’s as they both inch her upwards, leaning her back against the kitchen cabinets. Evan snaps off the top three buttons on her dress.

I'm horrified at what I see. Her pale skin has taken on an angry hue. Every vein has turned purple. They’re the darkest at the center of her chest and fade into red then pink the further into her neck they go.

Evan and Myles exchange looks for a moment, and then Evan presses his face against Ava's throat.

Then the screaming begins.

Without panicking or a change in expression or tone, Myles takes one hand and places it gently over Ava’s mouth. The other, still holding onto the ice, is applied to the back of her neck.

“
It's okay,” he tells her in between shh-ing.

Ava opens her tear-
filled eyes.

I feel my butt plop onto the linoleum. My legs couldn't hold me up any longer.

Ava stops screaming.

Myles takes his hand off of her mouth.

Ava closes her eyes again.

I shut mine too, praying that this too could possibly be a nightmare.

A cold hand on my shoulder makes me jump. I don’t know how much time has passed. Myles in front of me, blocking my view of  Evan and Ava.

“
Boo and Trei are coming up the stairs right now,” is what he says.

I blink a few times.
“What?”

Now both of his hands are on my shoulders. He wants me to concentrate on his words, his face, what's
going on besides the obvious.

“
Sophie,” Myles says, his voice breaking through the waves of my own pulse bumping against my temples.