Blue Neighborhood

Introduction

Avaree's P.O.V:

Ever since I was little, my dad always said there were stars in my eyes. I always thought he was talking about the stars that would somehow appear on the inside of my eyelids when I closed them, creating galaxies and clouds of different colors, shiny specs creating a vision in front of me. I would look at myself in the mirror every day in hopes that maybe one day, I could see the stars without closing my eyes like my dad could. But no matter how hard I tried, they remained brown, plane and dull. Nothing special, and no stars. Although he continued to reassure me that I did, as I grew up I realized he meant something different. That he saw something in me; potential, maybe. I began trying my best to show my dad I could live up to whatever he saw in my dark eyes, because it's all I could do to thank him for everything he's done for me.

He's had to do everything on his own because my mom left when I was three. I've tried asking him where she went for years but gave up when he would only tell me the same old story. That I was too perfect for her to keep. There really wasn't an explanation in this story as to where she actually went, but I decided to stop asking when I realized he knew just about as much as I did; nothing. I had to grow up, go through my very early teen years without a mother. I would run crying to my neighbor every time I had a problem. Whether it was my first period, when I had questions and if I ever needed a mother's point of view. She gave me the sex talk, would assure me I wasn't dying when my body would go through changes and just about everything else in between.

Sometimes I'm almost glad my mom isn't around, because I have her. She has one son who is a year older than me, and no husband. She's always told me she's glad I live just next door, because I'm the daughter she never had. Her son, Stefan, would always roll his eyes whenever she said that but he didn't really care at all. He was, in a way, almost like my brother. We got into trouble together, grew up together, had sleepovers and he even had my first kiss. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand one second after and we both decided never again. We were in fourth and fifth grade and both made discoveries. It was the year he stopped thinking that maybe he had a crush on me, because he sort of did at a point. And it was also the year I found out I liked girls.

I could always share anything with his mom, except this one little secret. I was very young and didn't think much of it. Some of my friends liked all the boys, while I liked all of the girls. I was at an age where what you say didn't really matter at school, like being gay. And it just never really came out at home. When I was a little older, I mentioned my crush to Stefan and he asked me, "You like a girl?" I'd mentioned my girl crushes to him before, but I guess it never really caught on to his eleven-year-old mind. Of course he was fine with it, we were best friends, practically siblings. But he did go straight to his mom with this information, which led to a call that I, thankfully, picked up instead of my dad.

"Avaree?" she'd said in her worried tone. "We should have a talk, sweetie."

I went right over to her house and walked in without knocking, like I'd always done. I sat down at the kitchen table while she was making dinner, chopping carrots extremely slow.

"Stefan shared the word with me that you like someone from school?" she'd admitted and I blushed, but also felt concerned. This was the very first time I'd ever second guessed my feelings about someone, which would be the first time for a while. She leaned across the counter, looking at me with her warm, green eyes, giving me that motherly feeling I always craved for. "Tell me all about her."

I'd smiled so much it hurt my face. I told her all about my first real crush that I'd landed, which would follow me all the way through middle school until she would move away to a different high school than the one I was going too. But that was another story.