Ava's Phobia.

In the summer of 1973, two little girls rest in the grass of a shared acre of land located on the outskirts of Texas. Ava, a blonde-haired blue-eyed girl, is the daughter of the longest-living family on the ranch. The only child of The Holoson family, well-known for all the wrong reasons. The mere sight of people seethed their souls. Unfriendly. Griffith Holoson moved to the area in the mid-’60s with his wife, Judy. They were the only people located on the acre until their daughter, Ava, was born in 1970. A house was built on the land, angering the couple. Angry letters to the Governor went unanswered, and four separate homes were built on the property. Friendly gestures from the neighbors were immediately shot down. “Good morning's" were ignored and stepping within 5 feet of their property warranted constant calls to the police. The last home to be built belonged to the Smith's, the only black family on the farm. The other neighbors couldn’t care less about the Smith's, but the Holoson’s were outraged.

“How were they able to even afford the home?” Judy scowled the first day the family moved in, watching the couple unload items from their truck.

“Probably sold drugs to get it.” Griffith scoffed, walking into his kitchen.

Ava struck up a friendship with the daughter of the Smith’s, Riley, also aged 3. With the Holoson’s off farming, the two rarely kept an eye on Ava while she and Riley played together. Most of their time was spent on the Smith’s property, picking flowers and small pieces of weeds from the grass.

“I like da’ flowers,” Ava smiles, legs buried in the grass.

“I wanna pick da’ bigger grass!” Her friend, Riley, cheers as she stretches her toes in the grass.

“Ok, let’s pick da’ bigger ones!”

As the girls stumble onto their feet, a large shadow blankets the girls. Judy. Furious, she grips her daughter's small arm, tugging the tiny girl towards their home.

“Ow!” Ava whines.

“Don’t give me any backtalk,” Judy orders, still tugging the girl. “Let’s go!”

“I wanna play with Riley!”

“You are not permitted to be over there, d’ya hear me, little girl? You don’t know what those people have in that house!”

“We don’t have anything in our house if that’s what you’re implying, Judy.”

Riley’s mother, Andrea, stands by Riley as she gives Judy a fiery glare. A glare, though Judy doesn’t show it, scares her. Ava is tugged into their ranch, greeting the Smith’s with the slamming of the door.

That was the last time Ava and Riley spent time together. The Smith’s constant requests to let the girls play with each other again were ignored, all the way up until the Holoson’s moved.

Relocating to Kansas, the Holoson’s marriage didn’t survive. Judy had to leave her family and friends led to constant fights between she and Griffith, and eventually a bitter divorce. Judy, using her advantage of taking care of Ava the most in the marriage, won custody of their daughter and moved to Dodge City.

At only 6, Ava had become an oddball.

Ava was excited about recess, but when she went outside, she would climb the handlebars, run across the bridge, speak on the megaphone, but would never use the slide. During free time, Ava would use every toy except the letter blocks and dolls dressed in blue. On a Friday, the class celebrated a classmate's birthday. Ava rushed towards the front with her classmates for a slice of cake, but once it was her turn, she fell back. Her teacher, Mrs. Angelina, cut a slice of chocolate cake and held it out to the girl. Ava, without warning, suddenly placed her plate down on the table.

“You don’t want a piece of cake, Ava?” Mrs. Angelina smiled.

“No thanks. I’m okay,” Ava refused, shaking her head.

“Why not, darling?”

“Because it’s disgusting.”

The class laughed. Mrs. Angelina was surprised.

“First kid I’ve ever heard that didn’t like chocolate cake.” She shrugged, cutting another slice. “Brandon, did you get yours?”

Though Ava’s behavior wasn’t disturbing, it was somewhat strange. For Parent Teachers conferences, Judy was unable to come due to work, so she asked for her estranged sister, Amber, to go for her. The sisters had never got along. Though they had the same mother, Amber was a product of infidelity, making her the black sheep and the blame of the split between Judy’s mother and father. Political differences were also a factor. However, Amber loved her niece, Ava. She wrote letters, sent gifts, and made sure to visit Ava every birthday.

“Ava is very active in every activity. Our math lessons, spelling lessons, every activity. She’s also very friendly,” Mrs. Angelina smiled, locking her fingers on her desk. “There is something about her that I’m quite curious about, however...”

“Like?”

“I think she has phobias. Certain things sort of “scare” her, if that makes sense.”

“What in particular?”

“Well, she doesn’t like to go on the slide during recess. When we have free time, she doesn’t like to play with the blocks or the dolls dressed in blue,” Mrs. Angelina said. “When the students ask her why doesn’t like these specific things, the only answer she responds with is, “Because they’re disgusting.”

“Sounds like she’s a germaphobe,” Amber laughs.

“I thought so too, but when I offered her a piece of cake for one of my students, she wanted nothing to do with that either,” The teacher describes, swirling her hands.

“She stated that the cake was disgusting, but before that, she spent the entire class talking about how excited she was to have some!”

Like the teacher, Amber was stumped. She had no idea what to make of this.

“I guess I’ll tell her mother,” Amber strained, standing and shaking the teacher's hand. “Her report card is in her bag, correct?”

“Yes. Nice meeting you!”

“You as well.”

Gathering Ava’s project bag, Amber prepared to leave when something caught her eye. The toys are in the corner of the room for free time. The blocks were colored brown, letters colored blue. The dolls in the blue dresses were little black girls. The others wore pink. Concerned, Amber wondered,

“I have a quick question,” Amber said, standing up. “What flavor was the cake?”

“Chocolate,” Mrs. Angelina answered, stopping her writing on her desk.

Looking at the playground in the distance of the classroom window, she could see the color of the slide. Brown.

“Does she not like that flavor?” Mrs. Angelina giggled, obviously not on the same page.

“It’s not her favorite,” Amber mentioned.

Returning home, Ava and her cousin Kendall were seen eating spaghetti in her kitchen. Kendall’s babysitter stands over the stove, mixing the remaining spaghetti in the pot. Amber smiles at the girls laughter, wishing that they could spend more time together as cousins.

“Look mommy, we’re making spaghetti teeth!” Kendall giggled, placing the dangling noodles out of her mouth.

Amber’s smile remains as she gazes at Ava, mimicking her cousins with noodles of her own. The thoughts of School Conferences, however, remained in Amber’s mind.

“Come in the living room, Ava,” Amber sighs, slipping her shoes off. “Let your auntie talk to you right quick.”

Wiping her hands, Ava jumps out of the built-in kitchen booth, sitting beside her aunt on the couch.

“How would you like me to buy you a Barbie Doll for you to keep,” Amber cheered, placing her hand on Ava’s lap. “One that’ll always remind you of your aunt?”

“That sounds great!” Ava cheered back, nearly screaming in excitement “When can we go buy it?”

“I have a newspaper add and I can order that for you,” Amber said, opening the AD. “Let’s order this one!”

Opening the ad, Amber places the paper on her lap and points to the Brown-skinned Barbie doll, dressed in a long gold dress. As expected, Ava’s excitement dwindled.

“That’s okay, Auntie,” Ava said, shaking her head. “I don’t want that one.”

“Why not, sweetie?” Amber asked Ava about the doll, wanting her suspicions confirmed.

“…..it’s disgusting.”

The planting of Ava’s 6-year-old childhood had begun to sprout.

A 3-year-old Ava constantly cried out to her first best friend, Ava, because she couldn’t see her.

“Because she’s disgusting!” Judy hollered.

Watching TV with her mother, her television remained on Politics. Constant news about the Black Panthers made its way across their television.

“Disgusting…” Judy groaned, changing the channel.

Little Black Girl scouts knocked on their door soon after Judy moved in.

“Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?” A little black girl asked, holding up a box.

“No.”

The door was slammed in their faces as if they were the police without a warrant. Ava stared at the little girls out of the window.

“Disgusting…” Judy scoffed, walking away from her door.

Ava’s 5th birthday had no friends, but a trip to Toys R Us. Along with bubbles and a toy gun, Judy was met with her daughter grabbing a large black doll, dropping it into the cart. A snappy Judy snatched the doll out of the cart, shoving it into her daughter’s chest.

“Take this back,” Judy ordered, standing inches away from her daughter’s face. “Now!”

“Why?”

“Because they’re disgusting!”

Ava’s brain spent 3 years absorbing her mother’s actions like a sponge. Judy’s ignorance had bled onto her daughter, dwindling little Ava’s mind into despising everything that was colored brown.