Ava Carter is sixteen, and she carries her world quietly.
She's the kind of girl who chooses the second row, third seat by the window every single time—
not because it's her "favorite spot," but because it feels safe.
It's close enough to learn, far enough to disappear.
Ava likes disappearing a little.
Her oversized hoodies are not just clothes; they're her shield.
They're soft, warm, and big enough to hide inside when the world feels too bright or too loud.
She tucks her hands in the sleeves when she's nervous, which is...
often.
Her sketchbook is her secret universe.
She never lets anyone flip through it.
The pages are filled with half-finished ideas, dreamy landscapes, tiny doodles she makes during class, and characters she'll never show anyone.
Drawing isn't just a hobby for Ava—
it's how she breathes on days when everything else feels overwhelming.
Ava is smart, but she doesn't feel smart.
She's the girl who gets good grades but still double-checks everything five times.
The girl who knows the answer but won't raise her hand.
The girl who would rather type something a hundred times than say it aloud once.
Inside her mind?
It's non-stop chaos.
She rewrites every conversation after it happens.
She overthinks every text message—
even the ones that only say "ok."
She worries people can hear her heartbeat during presentations.
She blushes too easily and hates it every time.
But beneath all that quiet, Ava has a soft, brilliant kind of confidence that shows up when she least expects it.
She is thoughtful.
Creative.
Surprisingly funny in a dry, sarcastic way when she feels comfortable.
She's not the loudest person in any room, but she notices everything.
Small things.
Important things.
Things other people miss.
Ava doesn't believe she's special—
not yet.
She thinks she's just "there."
Just another face in the hallway.
Just another quiet girl with too many feelings and not enough courage to share them.
But she has a world inside her.
Warm, imaginative, colorful.
A world she hasn't let anyone fully see.
Ava Carter is quiet.
But she is not simple.
She is soft in a way that matters.
She is strong in ways she hasn't realized.
And she is waiting—
not for someone else—
but for the moment she finally steps out of her own shadow.