Putting The Pieces back Together

Putting The Pieces Back Together PT1

PROLOGUE

Twelve years ago.

I leaned down and ran my finger over Ethan's knee. "See? Only a little blood. Look." I held my finger up, showing Ethan the little dot of blood. "See?" Ethan nodded, his eyes glazed with unshed tears.

"Okay then, let's go. We have to get back home," I huffed. Ethan was always getting hurt. ALWAYS. Just the week before he had sprained his ankle playing football with his stupid friends. Boys were dumb. How could he stand all of that pushing and shoving, but not a little scrape? I extended my hand to help him up. Ethan frowned.

"I got it, Ava," he snapped. Was he for real? Just a second ago he was about to cry.

Whatever.

I rolled my eyes and started down the dock. Chrissy was going to kill me. I walked as fast as I could. If Mom and Dad got back before me, I'd really be in trouble. I didn't look back once. He would be fine.

"You're a jinx, Ava—bad luck," he grumbled.

"Bad luck? Me?" Ethan stumbled into me when I stopped short.

"Yes! Every time you're around, I always get hurt."

"That's not my fault," I cried.

"Yeah it is. You're a girl, a stupid girl. Whenever you watch me play football, I always lose. You're bad luck!"

"Or maybe you're just really crappy at football," I spat out. He gasped, glaring at me, before saying "You're just a dumb six-year-old and a jinx."

My eyes filled with tears. "At least I don't cry like a dumb eight-year-old boy who can't even catch a ball." I shoved him hard and he fell back.

"Hey!" he yelled after me. This time I ran.

"Where have you been?" Chrissy hissed, as I came crashing through the back door.

"I went to the dock with Ethan," I mumbled.

"Well, Mom and Dad will be home any minute. I could have got in trouble! I'm supposed to watch you, Ava! I'm the oldest. You have to listen to me."

"I hate eight-year-olds."

Chrissy smiled smugly.

"What?" I snapped angrily.

"It's Ethaaaaaaaaaaan."

"No!" I said, stomping my foot.

"Yeah, it is. Did he put a bug on you again?"

"No." I sank into the kitchen chair. "He said I was a jinx...and bad luck." I felt tears form again.

"Well, he's stupid." Chrissy shrugged.

"What if he's right? Every time I watch him play football, he always falls or gets hit with the ball, and last week he hurt his ankle and today he fell. Chrissy, am I bad luck?" I whined.

"No Ava. He's just a boy. They're like cavemen."

"Cavemen?"

"That's what Mom calls Dad. Anyway, Ethan always gets hurt 'cause he's always staring at you. He wants to ka-iss you-oooh."

Ugh. I groaned.

"He likes you, that's why he's always so...what's the word Dad calls me when I drop things? Clumsy? He's clumsy."