Over the next two weeks, Ava quickly fell into the routine of school. She became accustomed to waking up early, followed by accompanying Abigail when she met up with Ry and Diana in their mother’s classroom. After that, Ava suffered through the class until photography, where she occupied herself with trying to coax a laugh out of Camilla again, before heading home with Abigail, often with Ry and Diana in tow.

Since that first day, she and Ry didn’t have a repeat of their outburst, but they still had small disagreements. Most recently they fought over Ava’s taste - or lack thereof - in music.

“How do you not have a favorite band?” Ry had demanded. “Everyone has one.”

“Not everyone,” Ava had responded, eyes half opened. They were sitting on the living room floor, Abigail and Diana nearby, but too engrossed in their own conversation to listen. “Why does it matter?”

“Because music matters. What kind do you listen to? Rock, rap, pop, what?”

“Whatever Abby is playing,” Ava said. Abigail looked over at the sound of her name, but quickly turned her attention back to Diana when she realized Ava wasn’t talking to her.

“So you don’t listen to music on your own?” Ry’s eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open, staring at her in shock. “Ever? Why?”

“Why bother? What’s the point?” Ava responded. “Like some of it sounds cool I guess, but it’s just music.”

“‘Just music,’” Ry echoed dully. “‘Just music,’ she says. Music is amazing. It’s universal. Every culture in the world has created music. It’s art, like your photography. A way of life. A way to look at the world around you and make sense of all the shit you see.” Ava looked at him skeptically, and he sighed, collapsing into a heap.

“Didn’t think you were so dramatic,” Ava commented, throwing her pen at him. He opened one eye to glare at her in response.

“Ry’s more dramatic than anyone I know,” Diana said, grinning at Ava. “You get used to it.” Abigail laughed, and Ry turned his glare on her.

“We’re taking you to a show this weekend, Ava” Ry told her, catching her by surprise. “There’s an all-ages club in town that always has pretty decent live music. You’re coming.”

“And you’re going to make me, how?” Ava retorted, frowning. Abigail reached over to smack her in the arm, but Ava’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m not,” Ry conceded, then grinned. “But she will,” he added, nodding at Abigail, who smiled brightly at Ava.

“We’re going,” Abigail decided. “It’ll be fun, and we should get out of the house more. Mind if we invite a couple others?”

“The more the merrier,” Diana said, all bright smiles and sunshine. Ava wondered for the umpteenth time what it was about her that Jeoffrey had seemed to hate so much. “Invite whoever,” she added, and Ava’s thoughts jumped to Camilla.

***

The next day when Ava walked into photography, she couldn’t help but smile at Camilla when their eyes met across the room. Her grin only widened when Camilla smiled briefly back at her.

“You busy tomorrow night?” Ava asked as she slid into her seat. Camilla blinked in surprise before smiling again.

“No, I’m not,” she responded, leaning forward. Ava couldn’t look away from the other girl’s icy blue eyes. “What are you planning?”

“More like what are Abigail’s friends planning,” Ava said dryly. We’re going to see some band play at some club downtown. Probably won’t be too terrible,” she added with a smirk.

“I’ll come,” Camilla said, though Ava didn’t miss the way she was picking at her nails. It was the same thing she did when the teacher showed off her work to the class, or when she talked about her family.

“Are you sure?” Ava asked, the same way she’d once asked Abigail if she really wanted Ava to teach her how to fight, gentle and forgiving.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Camilla told her, smiling again and pressing her hands into her lap. “I’d love to go with you.”

“I’m glad you’re coming,” Ava said, smiling back. “We’ll pick you up at six,” she added. “Text me your address later.”

Camilla nodded, toying with a chunk of her hair. Ava watched as she wove the strands into and out of a braid, seemingly unconsciously. Ava had watched her do this plenty of times, usually while she was planning a new piece.

This time, Ava fought the urge to reach out and replace Camilla’s fingers with her own. Instead, Ava pulled out her her camera and snapped a picture of Camilla, trying to turn her attention on her project, and not on how soft her friend’s hair looked.