Do You Know Eva?

Do You Know Eva- Chapter One

“Eva,” Jones says. Suddenly everyone is looking at me again. I look to the tall, formal woman at the top of the class.

“Yes Miss?” I reply, trying to sound as normal as possible but the confusion and shame can be heard in my voice.

“See me after class.”

     The bell rings moments later and the students flood out of the room. I dread the moment when I have to walk up to Jones. Will she see the bruise around my eye? What does she want? Why can’t she just be like all the other teachers and not care?

     She brushes her grey, pencil skirt leaving a trail of chalk along it. Taking a seat behind her large desk, she pulls a chair out for me. I wave my hand, gesturing that I do not want to sit. I throw in a polite smile, faked of course- it's just a habit now. She takes a second to compose herself, then looks me right in the eye’s- as best she could.

“Eva, girl what's up with you lately?” She says her face dropping. She is genuinely worried about me. Probably the only person who is. “I mean, you’re late almost everyday, you never concentrate in class, you are always doodling. I have nothing left but to go to the principal.”

“No please don’t do that!” I plead. That would lead to more beatings than necessary at home. Then again, I won’t be around to have a meeting with any principal.

“Then please tell me what’s going on.”

     I could break down. I could start crying and tell Jones about all the stuff that goes on at home. Maybe she could even put a stop to it- save me. But I don’t. I pull out another excuse from a book that has been opened too many times, it's ink long faded, handwritten by me.

“I’m just-” Jones interrupts me before I can finish.

“Tired, ill- I’ve heard it all before Eva.”

     I don’t mean to be like this to Jones, as a matter of fact she is my favorite teacher, my favorite person- sometimes my only person. Telling her is just not an option, yet lying to her feels so bad, like a first lie to your parents, so much guilt. I nod and she shakes her head, maybe she has given up to.

“Just wise up, girl. Now get to class, you’re late.” She smiles and I churn one out too before walking out of the room. Even though I cannot see, I know her eyes follow me as I walk out.

*

     As I walk along the hallways, or should I say drag myself along the hallways, I get the feeling that something is wrong. Everyone is peering at me as I walk towards my locker. I am used to everyone looking at me. I guess you could say I wasn’t like everyone else. I didn’t have boyfriends or I wasn’t part of the cheerleading team. I wasn’t ashamed of the two razor scars on my wrists, so much that I wouldn’t wear short sleeve t-shirts. I almost flaunted them.

     People automatically assume that I am a suicidal freak. They never let themselves get to know me just because what they have heard from hallways whispers. Maybe if they actually got to know the real Eva, they would actually like her and see past her scars, both inside and out.

     I was right. There is definitely something up. I zip up my black, hooded jumper and pull down my sleeves covering the marks form Attempt One. Pulling my hood over my hair, I stop in shock at my locker. This is what they are all waiting for. Just another show. Lengthways along my locker is the word dyke spray painted in red with a coating of blue. My jaw drops an inch and suddenly everyone is pointing and laughing.

     My heart stops. I feel a shudder of embarrassment and mortification. I fight back an army of tears that are welling behind my eyes. I have been tripped and pushed all my years here but never have I been so insulted. The tears swell up in my eyes and threaten to destroy my make up. As I stare at my locker I am knocked to the floor by a football player. The hallway explodes with laughter. Everyone is gathered around me, almost in a circle of jocks and cheerleaders, even the odd nerd.