Chapter 7 – Talking With Evie.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, frowning. I didn't have an answer, I didn't want to answer. Besides, she could be talking about something else. Maybe she thought I did drugs?
“I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Evie repeated, and before I could again ask what she meant, she grabbed my arm and pulled the sleeve up, revealing the numerous scars there.
My breath caught in my throat, and I looked up at her, terrified. No one had ever guessed, no one had ever even begun to suspect. Yet in just a few seconds, Evie had figured me out. My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn't reply. What was I going to say?
“What? No answer? Does my brother know about this?” Evie was angry, to say the least.
I shook my head. “No. No one does,” I told her, quietly. I took my arm back, pulling the sleeve down until I was completely covered again. The thought really hit me then. She knew. How did she know? Brandon hadn't even realized, and we'd been hanging out for at least a week...
So I asked her. “How did you know?”
I didn't expect her reaction. She froze up, really looking at me. “I guess it's fair to ask. But you have to remember, this has only happened once,” she said, and as she rolled up her own sleeve, I knew what she'd done.
I was going to kill my throat, I was, but I was suddenly angrier than I'd ever been in my life. I hadn't been this angry at my father, my mother, even Anna, but right now Evie had the full experience.
There was a single line, a single scar, on her wrist. Not too big, and I could tell it was the first and only from the length; it was barely there, just enough to notice if she pointed it out.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I asked, quietly. I had to keep my anger in check, because I didn't have the ability to yell. I couldn't yell at Brandon's sister. I had only met her a few minutes ago.
“I don't know. I just knew I was upset, and I wanted to just throw something. Next thing I know my wrist is bleeding a little. I freaked out and covered it up, but after that I was a little calmer. I promised myself to never do it again. I spent the next week panicking every time someone even glanced at me funny,” Evie told me, looking into my eyes. “That's how I knew for you. I recognized the look of worry. Brandon probably doesn't see it, no one else does.”
I nodded, understanding a little. In the back of my mind, there was always that subconscious worry that someone would find my secret.
However, I was still angry. She had no right to want to cut. Ever.
“Now, back to you,” Evie began, and I saw her own frustration returning. “What makes you think of doing this, huh? What do your parents think?”
“My dad doesn't care,” I summarized. I didn't want to snap, because if I did I'd tell her everything.
“Of course he does, he probably just doesn't show it!” Evie insisted, as though she knew everything.
It was too late. I did snap. “No, he doesn't. I have a reason to cut because I was six-years old when my mother took a gun and shot herself. My father is an alcoholic who spends all his time working around the country and has barely said a word to me in the past twelve years other than to tell me I'm exactly like her. So don't you dare act like you know anything.”
Evie's eyes were wide, and I was surprised to see there were now tears inside of them, glistening but not falling. “Are you serious?” She asked, her voice low.
I nodded. “Yeah, I am. Brandon doesn't know any of it yet. I don't want him to get that look in his eyes.”
She sat beside me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my waist. I flinched as her fingers hit the cut, and she pulled away.
“Andrea, what did you do?” She asked.
I couldn't lie. She already knew everything else. I was shocked at how unafraid I was now. It was almost better to have her there to talk to. So I pulled up my shirt, showing the bandages. “My father was home last night. I was stressed and depressed. It happened before I even knew I was doing it,” I admitted, letting my shirt fall over my stomach again, covering up all the evidence.
“Can I please tell my parents? Please? Just let us be here for you so this doesn't happen again?” Evie suddenly begged, her voice sounding like she'd been asking for a while now.
I shook my head violently. “No. No one else can know. I'll tell Brandon one day, I promise. But I can't stop, not now.” She wouldn't understand, I knew she wouldn't. Hers had been an accident after some typical teenage fight, as opposed to me, dealing with this stupid reality that was my life.
“Can I tell them later then? After you leave? Just... tell Brandon soon?”
I shook my head. “Please don't. I'll tell him thought. Not today, but after his birthday party.” I reasoned. I didn't want to ruin that for him if I could help it.
“He's not having one anymore. Too much effort or something,” Evie told me, and I shrugged.
“After his birthday then. But Evie, please don't tell your parents.”
She stared at me for a long time, but was however interrupted by a knock on the door. “Evie! Stop hogging Andrea! Mom and dad want to meet her too you know!” Brandon yelled through it. There was a rattle as he tried the doorknob. “Hey, no locking the door! I want in!” He banged on the door, and Evie sighed.
“Twenty seconds!” She shouted, looking back at me. “Fine, I won't. Promise. But you have to promise to tell Brandon the day after his birthday. You're his best friend, and I don't want him to get hurt.”
“Evie,” Brandon complained from outside, drawing out the last syllable. “Quit keeping my best friend hostage!”
Evie tilted her head, as though point out she told me so. I hadn't thought I was his best friend. I would have thought that role would be filled by Anna or someone. I never thought I'd have a friend, let alone a best friend, but right then I knew Brandon was mine.
“I promise. He's my best friend too.”
She smiled. “Good. Sorry we had to argue the first time we met.”
I shrugged, standing up and giving myself a once over to ensure I wasn't showing any scars. “Me too. Start over?”
Evie nodded, unlocking and opening her door, causing Brandon to stumble. I guess he'd been trying to listen in or something. She laughed and nodded. “Sounds good. Come on, let's introduce you to our parents.”
I looked over the canvas, making sure it was perfect. I'd never once bought myself something to draw on, and certainly never bought proper drawing materials to draw with either. But I'd had a reason this time, a very good reason.
Today was Brandon's birthday, and since I had no idea what else to do, I'd done the one thing I could.
I'd drawn a picture. Brandon had said he liked some of the things I'd drawn before, so I would. Also, I'd heard homemade gifts meant more to people. It was a good way to show Brandon how much his friendship meant to me. Ever since I'd met his parents, John and Michelle, it was like our friendship had grown. I was talking more and more each day, and it had only been four days since then but I felt like I was happier.
Talking to Evie had also helped, and it seemed I could count on her as well as Brandon now.
It was Wednesday, his eighteenth birthday, and I was sitting in English class, the canvas propped up a little facing down so I could see it without having to show it off. I smirked a little to myself, a habit I realized I'd started a couple of days ago. Brandon walked in, and Anna didn't say a word. She probably didn't even know it was his birthday.
That just showed her idiocy. How she could miss his smile, or the huge badge on his chest that declared he turned eighteen?
“Andrea!” He yelled, making a couple of people stare at him.
I smiled, wishing I could laugh at his excitement. I still couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. “Hey, birthday boy,” I said.
He sat next to me, grinning. “I'm eighteen! I'm finally old enough to do some stuff! What's that?” His attention was drawn to the canvas on the table, and my smile widened.
“Happy birthday.” I pushed it towards him, hoping he didn't notice how nervous I was. What if he wanted something else, something real? What if this wasn't helpful?
I hadn't been able to release since Friday night, and this was the longest I'd gone in a few years, but I'd been so busy doing this I hadn't even be able to do it accidentally. I'd sat with Brandon at lunch, because he insisted that Anna wasn't a fan of sitting with him if I was there, so he'd decided she wasn't worth being friends with and forced me to sit with him the past couple of days. No excuses.
I should have been worried that Evie had told him, but I knew she wouldn't. At the most, she'd have told her parents despite the promise; she wanted me to tell him everything.
I shook out of my thoughts and doubts, focusing on Brandon as he flipped the canvas over. I'd seen the picture, after all I had drawn it, and watched him instead, wanting his reaction. He didn't disappoint, looking over at me.
“You drew this?” He asked, shocked.
I nodded. “Yeah. I used the picture your mom took of us on Saturday and just drew it,” I told him. The picture was simple, his arm around my shoulder while mine was around his waist, and we were looking at each other. We were both smiling, and I knew a lot of people would get the wrong idea.
As long as he understood, however, I was happy.
Brandon just nodded, going back to the black and white picture. “It's amazing, I love it,” he said, giving me a quick side hug. “Thank you.”
I smiled, letting him hug me. I wasn't a big fan of hugs, especially since they usually ended up hurting me in some way, but I was fine with it for today. Today was all about my best friend.