Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,8

things that were out of her comfort zone. Just last week she’d forced her to submit one of her paintings to a local gallery. Ava knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that the Coventry Art Gallery would pick the painting of a high school amateur over all the professionals and more experienced artists who would be submitting, but sometimes it was easier just to do what CJ said rather than argue.

“I’m sorry, Aves,” CJ said. “I know you hate this. But you’re going to thank me later.”

Ava seriously doubted that. But it was impossible to slow CJ down once she got excited about something. If there was a problem, she wanted to solve it. The girls were only twelve when CJ dragged them to their first protest. Ava contributed the artwork for their signs. That was the extent to which she was comfortable sticking it to the man.

“Look at her,” Martha said, pointing to Ava. “She’s like… an unnatural color.”

“She’s not an unnatural color.” Ava could feel CJ’s eyes on her, evaluating and processing. “Okay, maybe she’s slightly paler than her regular color. But only slightly.”

“I’d say it’s dramatic,” said Jordan.

Ava clenched her eyes shut while her friends argued about her. She wished she could just astral project right the hell out of there. When she opened her eyes, she was disappointed to discover that not only had her soul not left the room but that Logan Diffenderfer was walking up to them. Great. That’s all she needed right now. Even worse, he had his camera around his neck.

“Hey,” he said to Jordan. “I’ve been getting some great shots for the paper.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m thinking front-page spread for sure. Let me see what you’ve got.”

He held up his camera and clicked through a few images. Ava had to admit that he was good. She’d never say it to his face, but secretly she loved his work. Jordan complained that his shots were often too artsy for the paper, but Ava loved them. His photos weren’t just beautiful. They told a story.

He clicked forward and paused on a picture. Oh god. It was a picture of her. She really did look pale. Logan lowered his camera, and it seemed like he was about to say something to her. Ava was thankful that Martha jumped in before he could.

“Hey, Diffenderfer,” she said. “You weren’t in AP Physics today. Mr. Young said you’re dropping it.”

Logan glanced down at his camera. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Martha asked.

Logan hesitated and a commotion stirred up in the line ahead of them. He looked pretty relieved about the distraction. Ava recognized the look. It’s how she felt every time something happened that took the focus off of her.

They all turned and saw that a couple of their classmates were arguing with the woman supervising the sign-in sheet. It was getting loud. “We have rights,” someone said. It was Kaia Huber. She was one of the best writers in school other than Jordan.

Jordan turned to Logan. “Get your camera ready. Come on.”

The line dissolved as the commotion got bigger. Jordan was already pulling her notebook and a pen out of her bag. She quickly jotted down quotes. CJ followed right behind her. Ava would have preferred to stay out of it, but Martha grabbed her arm. “Come on. Let’s see what’s up.”

They reached the table where a mob of their classmates surrounded the woman with the sign-in sheet. “I’m sorry,” she said. She was older and had the distinct look of someone who watched a lot of public television. “But only constituents can speak at these meetings.”

Ava didn’t know what a constituent was. She thought about discreetly googling it, but Logan Diffenderfer asked the question for her. “What’s a constituent?”

“It’s a voter in this district,” answered Kaia with annoyance. “None of us are registered. So they won’t let us speak.”

“Well, we would register,” CJ said to the PBS woman. “But we can’t. We’re not eighteen.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding that sorry at all. “These are the rules.”

“But we’re the ones most directly impacted by the park closure. We should get to talk about it,” Martha said.

The woman looked frustrated and tired and completely unmoved. “You’re welcome to sit and listen.”

“But we don’t want to sit and listen,” Logan said. “We want to stand and be heard.”

There were cheers from their classmates, and Ava had to admit it was a pretty good line. She saw Jordan jot it down in her notebook. The public television woman put up her