The Connection

“You’re such a pussy.”

Kat sneers from the bed. Avery’s bed. Whenever Kat comes over, she will always flop down on Avery’s bed, and cuddle into his misshaped pillows, and more times than not, she keeps her dirty, blue Chuck Taylor’s securely tied on her feet. It’s true, that Kat isn’t very big, and she could easily scot over and give her bony best friend half of his own bed. But she won’t. Instead she’ll uncurl herself like a fat, old tabby stretching in the sunlight and commander the entire full size pillow top. Avery rolls his eyes from his desk chair. The chair isn’t nearly as comfortable at his rat’s nest of blankets.

“When’re you going to ask Cooper out, then?” He counters dryly. Kat scoffs.

“I don’t need to ask Cleft out. He’s already done that and—“Kat says, leaning up on her flannel clad elbows, a dark eyebrow raised indignantly. Today’s flannel is a green and white number over the top of her Fall Out Boy shirt, the black one she’s had since freshman year.

“Then why don’t you say yes, pussy?” Avery smirks. Kat’s pale green eyes narrow behind her thick rimmed glasses.

“Because, you asshole, I don’t want to be in a relationship, especially with Handsy McGee. And I don’t have a Soul Mate to willing hand over his—“

“But you will. You’ll be seventeen in November, which is only a couple months away. Don’t you want Cooper to be your Soul Mate?” Avery says suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows. Kat turns scarlet; reaching behind her to extract a pillow and fling it at Avery’s laughing face.

“Just because you’re out now, doesn’t mean you get to be a gossipy gay best friend!” She hisses, before flopping down on her back, staring resolutely at Avery’s ceiling.

“Anyway,” She speaks loudly over Avery’s snickering, “Why haven’t you? He gave you his number; he obviously wants you to contact him.” Avery rolls his eyes. He’s thought about this from more angles than he’s willing to admit.

“Because it’s probably a trick or something. Something to make me look stupid.”

“And what evidence do you have to support that?” Kat says, skeptically.

“Besides the last three years?” Avery scoffs, twirling absently in his desk chair, staring up at the off white ceiling.

“Okay then,” Kat says an obvious edge to her cigarette smoky voice, “Then what have you got to lose by texting him?” The look Avery shoots her must speak volumes of Kathrine Rae, that is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard in my whole seventeen years on planet earth because she launches into a rebuttal without him actual having said anything.

“No, listen. He’s already humiliated you, like every day since eighth grade. And he gave you his number, not the other way around. And if you’re still skittish, then just don’t share anything super personal.” She concludes, and Avery has to admit, she’s got a pretty valid point.

“Everything I would tell him is too personal.” Avery counters, rather snottily. Kat rolls her eyes, thoroughly done with him.

“I highly doubt your middle name or favorite color would be too detrimental.” She huffs. And she’s right. Kat’s almost always right; it’s one of her more annoying qualities. Avery fiddles with the cell phone in his hands. He doesn’t even remember pulling it out of his pocket; but here it is, his thumb sliding the lock back and forth, not quite letting it settle into place and unlock. He’s worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth, something he does only when he’s nervous. Kat is watching him with annoyance from his bed, propped up on her elbows.

“He probably won’t even text back.” There it is. Avery’s last, weak protest. Kat raises an eyebrow, and a tiny shadow of a smirk pulls at the corners of her red stained lips.

“Then it won’t matter, will it?” She says. She knows she’s won, and she can’t keep that triumphant gleam out of her gray green eyes. Avery gives her one last lingering glare, before he turns around and opens his desk drawer, where the carefully folded paper sits. He unfolds it with fumbling fingers, the back of his neck on fire. He clumsily types the number into his phone, and opens a blank text message. His thumbs hover over the keypad. What now? He takes a deep breath. He really wishes Kat wasn’t in the room.

Its Avery. I’m texting you, like you said.

He hits send before he can think too much about it.

“There, happy?” He sneers at a grinning Kat. His whole body feels too hot.

“What did you say?” Kat says, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. Avery rolls his eyes, his face on fire.

“I asked him what color underwear he was wearing. God, what do you think?” Avery sneers, trying for venomous. But Kat’s eyes are laughing and her mouth is twisted into itself, to keep her from cackling.

“I’d wager plaid. Maybe green to match his eyes?” Kat says, nearly crying with mirth. Avery reaches for the pillow Kat threw at him, and chucks it with vigor at her shaking frame. The pillow lands with a hefty thud against Kat’s head, almost muffling the triple beep of a new text message coming from Avery’s phone. All the startling red color in Avery’s neck and face seems to drain, his already pale complexion looking positively gray now. While Kat is rolling on his bed, gasping, laughing; Avery checks the message.

Ok cool. What’s your middle name?

That’s it? That’s what he says? Avery shakes his head in frustration, roughly shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket. Kat sits up on Avery’s bed grinning, her cheeks flushed, wiping a tear from her face. Her laughing grin falters when she sees Avery’s expression.

“What? I’m sorry, I just thought it—“

She shuts up as soon as Avery thrust his phone under her pierced nose. She raises an eyebrow and shoots him a look, but takes the phone anyway, typing in Avery’s passcode with her thumbs.

“I assume I’m looking at your messages?” She says drily. Avery huffs, not bothering to answer her stupid question. He watches her eyes slide across the short and ridiculous text. She stares at it for a few minutes, brow furrowed, not saying anything. Avery taps his foot impatiently, waiting for her to feel the annoyance that he does.

“Well?” He says finally, an edge to his voice, “See, he just wants to make—“

“Avery, shut up.” Kat cuts him off, rolling her eyes. She passes him back his phone, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“God, you’re such a drama queen.” She sighs, thoroughly done with him and his antics.

“H-How? He’s the one asking stupid fucking—“Avery sputters in a rage, how can she not see it? This is another venue to make fun of him. And to think Avery got his hopes up for this stupid, stupid—

The phone’s triple bleep cuts through anything that Avery might try to say. In that instant, their bickering stops, and wide gray green eyes meet round blue ones. They both lunge for the phone; Avery actually falls from his desk chair. His arms are longer and the tips of his fingers skim the textured plastic of his Otter Box, but Kat’s closer and quicker. She snatches the phone away, and hurriedly enters in Avery’s passcode. Avery jumps onto his bed, and Kat tries to hunch her shoulders over the phone. Avery molds to her back, reaching around her to steal his phone back.

“Kat! Give me my phone!” Avery barks, grabbing her wrist and pulling the phone toward him, before she can read the message. She elbows him in his bony ribs, making him groan in pain. Why are her elbows that sharp? He presses his forehead against her shoulder, trying to regain his breath. God, why is he friends with this demon girl?

“You’re a total bitch and I hope—“ Avery wheezes, but is cut off by Kat’s renewed laughter. She falls back into him, positively cackling.

“What? What did he say?” Avery cries, arms circling Kat’s middle to rip the phone out of her slack hand.

mines james. and my full name is maxwell. plz answer?

“Yeah, Avy. He’s defiantly going to use your middle name for misdeeds, that’s why he gave you his,” She says between wheezing breaths, “And that’s why he’s practically begging for you to text back.”

Avery feels his neck warm. He reads the message twice. Just to make sure he can’t spot any hidden agenda in the three broken sentences.

“What should I say?” Avery demands his grinning best friend. She rolls her eyes, and lays back down on his bed, jamming her feet into his lap. Avery’s too panicked to care that her shoes are muddy and he’s wearing his favorite pair of skinny jeans. Max is asking him to text back. He’s giving up personal information. What kind of alternative reality is this?

“Here’s a novel idea: answer his question.” She grins, “You remember it don’t you? Starts with a ‘w’, it’s your father’s name?” She teases him, pushing against his thigh with the white toe of her sneaker. He scowls, pushing her feet from his lap, to which she only laughs more.

William.

He types it quickly, so quick that he has to go back twice and fix the spelling mistakes. He hits send, and turns to tell Kat to get her mud splattered shoes off his clean bed clothes, but as he opens his mouth, his phone beeps.

“Wow. He’s speedy.” Kat snickers, but Avery ignores her, pulling up the message.

Cool. What’s your favorite color?

“What’s Sport-o saying?” Kat questions, tucking her arms behind her head.

“He’s asking me what my favorite color is. What the hell is this?” Avery grumbles, shaking his head.

“He’s getting to know you, dork. That’s how you get to know people; you have conversations and ask them questions.” Kat says with the air of explaining that two plus two equals four to a stubborn toddler. Avery shoots her a withering look.

“But it can’t be this easy. He’s got to have some other motive.” Avery argues, shoving away the dirty blue Chuck’s that have somehow made their way back into his lap. Kat sighs heavily, throwing her frizzy head back against Avery’s pillow.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” She groans. Avery opens his mouth to spit a rebuttal, but again the triple bleep of a new text message interrupts him. He opens it quickly, holding the phone out of Kat’s reach, just in case.

you know, conversations work better if both people talk. I won’t admit to anyone that I’m talking to you anyway. My favorite colors are dark blue and black, btw.

Avery snorts. Of, course. Big bad football Admiral Maxwell James Matthews would never admit that he was talking to geeky art kid Avery William Reeves. And if Avery had to guess, he would never ever, even under intense torture sessions the reason behind their new found, half sided conversations. Whatever, he can be a dick.

Purple.

Avery replies before reading Max’s text to Kat.

At least she finds that ridiculous, too.

________

The ride to Franklin Community high school usually flies by.

However, Monday morning the inside of Avery’s Volvo, which is usually filled with Quinn’s laughter and complaining, Avery’s passive aggressive mumbling towards other drivers and the sibling’s squabble over what music to listen to (Avery prefers alternative, while Quinn prefers that top forty garbage), is stuffily silent. Avery glances away from the red light to his sister in the passenger seat. She looks out the window, a deep frown etched on her face, her arms crossed over her seatbelt.

“Are you warm enough?” Avery asks, accelerating a few seconds after the light turns green. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the blurry shape of Quinn shift in her seat. She snorts, holding her chin higher.

“I’m fine, Avery.” She says, aiming for flat, but juts ending up sounding snotty.

“Mhm. Sure,” Avery rolls his eyes, flipping on his turn signal, “What’s wrong?” Quinn doesn’t say anything, juts huffs pointedly. Like Avery should know what he’s done wrong.

“Gee, that sigh was super specific.” Avery sighs, “C’mon, Quinn. What’s up?”

“I’m mad at you.”

“Funny, I’d gathered that much, what about?” Avery mutters, running through a list of offenses in his mind. He left her coffee this morning and he didn’t eat all the Poptarts, he did turn the radio on to an alternative station this morning, not giving her a chance to change it.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” She spits finally, turning slightly in her seat to set a pair of tastefully made up, glaring eyes on him.

“Tell you what?” Avery asks, pausing at a stop sign.

“That Max Matthews is your fucking Soul Mate!” She roars, her hands balling into tiny fists in her lap. Avery sighs heavily. Really? This? This is what she was mad about?

“Look, I was going—“

“No! Shut up, Avery. I’m your sister! You should have told me! Especially since you made the Connection with the guy that beats the shit out of you every day—“

“He doesn’t—“

“Don’t lie to me, Avery.” Quinn hisses, “I’m not an idiot. I see the bruises, and in case you didn’t know, everyone knows! Even freshman!” She sounds exasperated.

“Gee, doesn’t that make me feel awesome? Everyone knows that I’m Matthews’ whipping boy, huh?” Avery keeps his voice flat, even though his cheeks flush in embarrassment. God, is he that pathetic? Quinn doesn’t seem to hear him, she simply steamrolls ahead.

“— I don’t even care that you didn’t tell me you were gay! What am I supposed to say to Mom and Dad when they ask if I know him? What am I suppose to say when he comes to dinner?” Quinn astonishes.

“Lie to them, obviously.” Avery says evenly, “And he won’t be coming to dinner. I don’t think Matthews is the type of guy I could bring home to meet the folks.” Avery says and realizes that the statement is true on so many levels. Quinn flops backwards in her seat, causing Avery’s tiny car to give a jolt. She stares ahead, her cheeks flushed from her ranting.

“Quinn. You can’t tell them.” Avery says, glancing at his sister. She doesn’t say anything, only stares resolutely out of the window.

“Quinn.” Avery says again, hoping the hint of panic in his tone is lost on his sister, “I’m serious. You cannot tell mom and dad that—“

“I know, Avery. I’m not an idiot.” She snaps, her head thumping against the window, “I wouldn’t anyway, you know that.” She adds softly.

“I just wish you would have told me. You’re my big brother.” She says. Ah, that’s what it is. Avery shakes his head, pulling into the Franklin High upperclassmen parking lot. “Kat knew.” She adds, sulkily.

“I know, Quinny. I didn’t really think about it to be honest. I just, you know, panicked. And I really didn’t want to tell Kat, or anyone for that matter. You know how she is,” Avery pleads. He slows to almost a crawl and eases carefully into his parking space, in between two lifted trucks. The trucks take up all of their spaces and a little of Avery’s, too.

“I promise to tell you anything from now on, okay?” He says, shifting into park and finally looking at her.

“Like he gave me his number… and I’ve been texting him.” He adds. She surveys him, her left eye almost totally obscured by her side swept bangs.

“Any dates planned?” She grins. Avery rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway. He’s forgiven.

“Not likely. Just pleasantries, right now.” He says wryly.

“Ah. So, boxers or briefs?” Quinn giggles.

Quinn barely dodges the messenger bag; her older brother tries to smack her with.