The little intelligent 4 year old with the emphasising eyes and a humble smile.
The only person who would play with me at break or lunch in primary school.
5th January 2016
"Are you cold?" Luke asks as we wait for cross country to start.
His eyes are still as curious as they were when we were 4, the saturated blue watching the goosebumps bubble over my skin.
Before I can answer through chattering teeth his arms pull me into his chest and wrap around me protectively.
His hand brushes my arm as it makes its way to my back. His hands were always cold, not a bad kind of cold, a soft, numb kind of cold. It's hard to explain.
My face buries itself in his pale blue PE top but is rudely interrupted by the sound of an angry whistle.
Luke let's go and I immediately wish I was back in his arms.
And no, me and Luke aren't dating, we have been best friends since we were 4.
"Girls will run first followed by the boys!" Mr Johnson shouts over the silenced teenagers wishing they were anywhere else but here.
God I hate running.
"Girls, get in line!" Mrs Caroll instructs.
I am not looking forward to this; at all.
As I begin to make my way to the start line, Luke's familiar hand reaches for mine and spins me round.
"Hey good luck, it will be fine" he smiles with encouragement.
I return the smile.
The white painted line kisses my muddy trainers and winter wind whips at my ponytail.
I can almost feels the boys eyes on our arses; gross.
The sound of a small pistol and we are off, a surge of arms and legs propelling toward the first corner.
The grass is a lot more slippy than I anticipated, turning the course into an ice rink.
10 slow minutes pass and my breaths are becoming annoyingly heavy.
My nose decides to run like a tap and I feel like suffocating every time I swallow.
My breaths decide they don't need a rhythm which makes it ten times harder to concentrate.
I am about 7th so far not too bad.
Remember Ava, the first 5 get in the team and you really don't want to be in that team.
Isabel is a few meters ahead, she definitely wants to be in the team.
I speed up painfully trying to catch up with her.
She watches me cautiously and doesn't look very happy when I over take her slightly.
Suddenly my feet are no longer on the matted wet grass and I feel my body falling onto the bed of thorns and nettles that lay beside the path.
"Ooh sorry" Isabel shouts as she runs on.
I stand up quickly, the thorns dragging and pulling on my pale skin.
"Fuck" I say as I start running again.
I spit out the excessive amount of saliva in my mouth and drive on.
My throat feels like sandpaper and my lungs a desert.
I can see the finish. The 20 minutes of running are nearly over.
3 girls are already there, panting on the side lines.
The boys have already begun running.
6 girls are there now. Good, you aren't in the team I mentally reassure myself.
As I slow for the finish, my stomach flips and I feel vomit rising to my throat.
I force it back down.
"19:34!" Mrs Caroll shouts my time.
My breath it too fast for me to keep up with and I almost choke on air.
I stumble past the other girls and head towards the fence.
My hand clutches my ribs and blood pumps in the back of my head and under my ears.
More red-faced girls run over the finish within the next painful few minutes.
My breathing has deuces to its usual pattern now and the redness has disappeared from my cheeks.
Before would know it, the first of the boys are crossing the line having over taken some of the slower girls.
Mark Davidson is first, closely followed by Aaron Sterling.
As I lean against the fence I see Luke approaching the finish in 3rd place.
The other girls can't keep their eyes off of him.
But to be honest, he does look amazing.
Even with sweat dripping down his face, his hair hanging over his eyes and his lip ring bouncing as he runs; he still looks flawless.
Unlike me - who looks like a drowned rat.
Isabel and grace cheer as he crosses the finish.
His eyes dart around and soon find mine.
He jogs over looking concerned.
"What happened to you?" He asks as he stops in front of me.
"What?" I say in confusion.
His hands hold out my wrists and he stares down at my legs.
Both are covered with cuts and grazes from where I fell.
Well, Isabel tripped me.
"I fell" I lie.
Luke inspects each one of the injuries, "does it hurt? I can take you to the nurse."
I smile. "I'm fine."
And I am, even with dried streaks of blood running down my arms and open wounds; the cold air seems to numb the pain.
"Promise?" Luke raises his eyebrows.