You get used to the knocking after a while. It just becomes background noise. But every now and then, you need the background noise to stop, just for some quiet time with some pleasant non-thought. At least I do. Today was one of those days, and I had snuck away to Avery's house to find the peace and quiet, and maybe even lunch if I was cute enough. I was, and she was making sandwiches. Sandwiches.

I should explain something, the knocking (and the squealing, and the screaming, and the god-knows-what-else) was girls. Banging at my door, window, car... I couldn't get away from them. Not that I wasn't crush worthy (or so I 've been told), but I'm definitely not obsession worthy. Or so Avery says, but I think that's just because she doesn't want my ego to blow up and explode all over her cherished kitchen.

Anyway, I didn't expect them to find me here, and they didn't. It was someone else entirely. I stayed in Avery's room, then, lying on her bed with my forearm on top of my forehead. My eyes were closed, and when I heard the door's squeakier than usual hinges being pulled open by Ave, I stopped breathing for a moment. Just long enough that I could hear with perfect clarity the sound of expensive polished shoes making their way through the threshhold, pushing past Avery. I could imagine her being pushed aside, in that nervous fashion of hers. She'd be pushing her dark brown bangs out of her eyes (a habit she'd developed to deal with situations that made her uncomfortable), and futzing with the ponytail she had put her long locks in to stop them from falling in to the food she was getting ready for me. Not that I'm a beggar, but she'd insisted that I looked hungry, and I wasn't going to protest a free meal, especially from someone who used butter so liberally.

A male voice said something that I couldn't discern through the muffling of walls, stairs, and carpets that separated me from the front door. A brief reply and a high, nervous giggle trickled in to the room, followed by the sound of footsteps on stairs and carpeted hallways, progressively getting louder. There was a hard knock at the door, followed by Avery's voice calling out my name just loud enough that whoever was at the door could hear that she was checking on him.

I thought about the pros and cons of going down, and came to the considerably less risky decision of remaining completely quiet. The more risky option being jumping out of the window and running at full speed to the nearest forest, stealing an expensive car in the process and then driving it into a large body of water.

"Adam," Avery called out again, quiet this time.

"I'm sleeping," I whispered, a tad more harshly than I had intended. "I'm not feeling well."

There was a short moment, during which I expected Avery to argue with me, until I heard her sigh and walk back the way she had came. I strained my ears now, trying to listen more carefully to the conversation going on in the entry way. There was a man mumble, an Avery mumble, a man mumble, the shuffling of papers, another man mumble, an Avery mumble, and finally footsteps and the squeaking hinges of the door being pushed back in to place.

I pushed myself off the bed and looked out the window on to the empty street. Empty. That meant that the car had already pulled away. Fantastic. I walked down the stairs and hallways that led the kitchen, which is synonymous to Avery. She looked more comfortable, with her arms covered in flour up to the elbow. At least she had an air of confidence that being with people tended to strip away.

Avery continued to work as she stared up at my entrance. "Who was it?" I asked.

"He left this for you." Avery indicated, with her shoulder, the small pamflit resting on the kitchen table. I moved to pick it up, but dropped it seeing the name on the front. "He said that 'Ariel' told them about your 'problem' and that 'they'," she motioned again towards the pamphlit, "could help. Whatever that means. Can you make heads or tails of it, cause to me it's neither."

My hands shook a bit, and I helped myself into one of the chairs near me. "Am I a -?" I couldn't finish the question. If I said it out loud it would all become real. The words would probably form a monster inside my mouth that I would have to spit up and there's always the danger that I would choke on its tentacles. It just seemed safer not to say the word in every sense.

"Honey," Avery said, taking my hands in hers. They were cold, from washing off the batter, and for a moment I was distracted enough to smell the arty-clogging concoction forming on the stove. "As pretty a face as you've got, it's not that pretty." She put hand to my cheek, and gave me a warm smile. "You might want to consider what they're offering. They might be able to help."

Avery walked back over to the stove and poked at something in apot. "I don't mind you being over here, honey, but would you mind not having girls chasing after you all the time? It's just some food for thought." She put a plate down in front of him on the table. "And speaking of food for thought, here's some non-metaphorical food. I call it 'fried burger'. Enjoy."