First-person POV — Ava Collins
I've always believed life should come in low volume.
Soft mornings. Predictable routines. A quiet cup of tea that nobody tries to steal.
But the day Mia Carter crashed into my world, silence died a loud and dramatic death.
I was eight, standing on the balcony of my aunt's house, trying to figure out if America felt like home or just a bigger version of confusion. Everything smelled different, sounded different, even the sky looked like it had more space than it needed.
Then I heard her.
"HEY! YOU! GIRL WITH THE PUFFY HAIR!"
I looked down, and there she was—this tiny storm in rainbow slippers. Hands on her waist. Chin lifted like she owned the entire street. And somehow…she noticed me. Just me.
"You're new," she announced. "I like your face. Do you wanna be best friends?"
I blinked. Twice.
Who asks that after zero minutes of knowing you?
Before I could answer, she was already climbing the stairs, breathing hard but smiling like she'd just won a prize.
"My mom said not to bother you," she continued, already invading my quiet circle. "But I don't listen very well. I'm Mia Carter. And your name is…?"
"A-Ava," I said.
"Perfect," she declared, taking my hand like the decision was hers alone. "We're best friends now. Come on. I wanna show you my cat."
And just like that—no permission, no warning, no chance to run—my life became louder, brighter, and more complicated than I ever asked for.
I should've been scared.
Honestly, I was.
But Mia had this warm, reckless energy that made everything around her feel less…heavy. Like she could pull you out of your own head without even trying.
That day, she pulled me out of silence.
And I didn't know it yet, but she would keep doing it for years.
Mia Carter happened to me the way storms happen—sudden, messy, and unforgettable.
And I let her.