Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,17
plan. Not that she really wanted to create a fake LinkedIn profile or research the councilman. It’s just that she thought it would be nice if sometimes people pointed at her when they needed a job done. Ava was about to put her phone down when she saw the e-mail.
“Holy shit!” Ava shouted at the exact same time her mom opened the front door.
Her mom yanked both earbuds out of her ears. “What? What? What’s wrong?”
Ava read through the e-mail again just to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“Ava, what is it?” Her mom’s earbuds dangled around her neck, and Ava could hear the faint sounds of Vivaldi’s Fifth coming out of them. Seriously. Vivaldi. The woman’s power jam was a classical concerto. “Ava, you’re scaring me.”
“Sorry, Mom. It’s not bad. It’s good. It’s so good. The Coventry Art Gallery. My painting was selected.”
Ava beamed. That made her mom beam back although she was still confused. “Wait. What are you talking about? Selected for what?”
It’s not like her mom had forgotten that Ava had submitted a painting to a major art gallery or wasn’t a present parent or anything. It’s just that Ava had never bothered to tell her since she thought she’d never get selected. She was so mad at CJ for pushing her to submit in the first place. She’d been ready to call CJ and yell at her for constantly believing in her and making her do things she had no business doing. But they’d picked her. The e-mail said that there’d been more than two hundred submissions and they had picked hers.
“That’s incredible,” her mom said when Ava finally caught her breath enough to read the entire e-mail out loud. “What a fun thing to be a part of.”
Fun? It was actually quite a bit more than fun. “The Coventry Art Gallery is a real showroom.” It wasn’t some bullshit teen competition either. “Submissions were open to everyone. I beat out professional artists.”
“That’s amazing. You should be so proud of yourself,” her mom said. “And”—her voice was bubbling with enthusiasm now—“this will look great on your college applications.”
This would have been a perfect time for Ava to tell her mom that she wanted to apply to art school. There would probably never be a more perfect time. She tried to psych herself up. Come on, Ava. You can do it. You can do it. She opened her mouth. “Yeah. Totally,” she said.
Her mom eyed the cereal bowl that was resting precariously on the couch. Her mom didn’t like Cocoa Puffs and she particularly didn’t like Cocoa Puffs on her nice linen sectional, but she’d long ago given up nagging her only daughter about what she put into her body and what she put on top of the furniture. So she just kept eyeing the Cocoa Puffs like she could psychically keep them from spilling. Ava picked up the bowl and her mom finally relaxed.
“I’m telling you, Aves, the smaller liberal arts universities aren’t going to care about your one bad semester. This gallery thing will show them you’re a well-rounded applicant.”
“Sure, Mom.” Ava didn’t want to talk about the one bad semester. She didn’t like thinking back to that time. “I’m gonna text the girls.”
“Okay,” her mom said. “I’ll leave you alone, then.” She walked toward her bedroom and paused just before going inside. “Oh. While I’m thinking of it… Did you remember to take your pill this morning?” Her voice was breezy, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. It had not just occurred to her. Her mom had a reminder on her phone that went off every morning at seven thirty on the weekdays and ten on the weekends. Not that she needed it. Her mom never forgot.
Ava never forgot either. “Yup. I remembered.”
“Ava.” Ava looked up. “I’m really proud of you.”
Ava didn’t know how to take compliments. She was relieved when her phone chimed. “That’s probably one of the girls. I should…”
Her mom nodded and left her to it. As soon as her mom closed her bedroom door, Ava checked her message. The text was from a number she didn’t recognize.
Congratulations on the Coventry Art Gallery!
It must be from the gallery people. The curator or the director maybe.
Another message popped up.
I’m seriously in awe. Like majorly.
That didn’t sound like an art professional.
I read the announcement on the gallery’s Instagram and about shit myself when I saw your name. So seriously. Congrats.