Eva stared at her mum's profile as the woman packed her lunch and placed it in the girl's bag.
“That's about it,” Ma muttered, zipping it shut before looking at Eva. “Everything ready, sweetie?”
Eva opened her mouth, so much sitting on the tip of her tongue and yet nothing to be told either. She felt like there was something she needed to say — wanted to say, but for the life of her couldn't imagine what. So instead she stepped forward and awkwardly wrapped her long arms around her mother's legs, her head only reaching up to the older woman's waist.
Her mum must have been too taken aback to respond but just as Eva felt ma moving to return the embrace, she quickly dropped her hands and moved back. “Gotta go, mum,” the little girl offered a closed mouth smile, “can't keep Benjie waiting.”
“The chauffer's name is Benjamin, love,” her mother reminded her again in a monotonous tone.
Eva lifted her left shoulder in a shrug, “Benjie sounds nice. He doesn't fuss about it too.”
Ma sighed. “Well then, better get going, yeah?”
Eva nodded, a tiny smile slipping onto and off her face like the quick flicker of a light bulb.
She was back in the same grand white car, being driven by the same old smartly dressed man to the same gates behind which her primary school stood. And the entire time, Eva couldn't help but feel her mum was distracted by something.
---
It was interval yet again, and just like the past week, all the kids raced out the class to the playground that was closely monitored by a few teachers. But Eva stayed and this time — she noticed — someone else stayed behind too.
The girl who'd approached her the first day.
Eva stared at her openly wondering why the girl was heading towards her when she'd avoided her ever since that day.
“What?” Eva asked as soon as the girl stopped by her desk, not waiting for her to speak.
“I was wondering why you never come out to play with us,” she explained, looking down at her shoes.
“I don't want to,” Eva muttered expressionlessly.
“Oh but it's so fun!” Excitement poured into her voice as her head snapped up to meet Eva's eyes. “You'd love —”
“I said I don't want to,” she cut her off impatiently.
The other girl's face fell but she didn't go away yet. “Terrence said your name's Evelyn.”
“It's Eva.” Why was the stupid red-haired boy going around telling people her name anyway?
“That's a pretty name,” the girl smiled. Eva stopped scratching the paint off the surface of the table and her blue eyes peered at the person standing in front of her in curiosity.
“Th-thanks,” she said unsurely, knowing that was the right thing to say but not wanting to make friends with this girl at the same time.
The other girl beamed so huge that it instantly reminded Eva of the lamppost by her street that seemed to light up the entire path with its soft goldish glow during the dead of the night.
Suffice to say, it made Eva's insides churn and discomfort enveloped her in a suffocating hug.
“My name's Jessalyn,” the other girl started, obviously thinking they could be friends because she dragged the chair from across Eva and sat herself down on it. “But you can call me Jessie if you want. That's what my parents call me anyways — and oh, did you hear about the new Disney princess? I think she's called Moana or something... yeah, it definitely was Moana!” Jessalyn grinned. “I think I'm going to like her a lot... ooh, do you know when the movie's coming out? We could watch it together if you want...”
Whatever else Jessalyn was saying was lost to Eva's ears.
Eva was, in every aspect of the word, freaking out. She didn't think there was anyone else she'd met who spoke so much and so fast that all the words seemed to belong in one single sentence.
She didn't even know what the girl was talking about, didn't know how she was supposed to respond — hell, Eva didn't think she even wanted to respond.
“Eva!” Jessalyn's loud tone jolted Eva out of her deep thoughts, causing her to have a mini-heart attack like when she accidentally leant too far back on her chair once whilst rocking it back and forth. She hated that feeling. Like something in her was thrown off a cliff and pulled right back up before she could hit the bottom.
“Shut up!” Eva screeched, her blue eyes ablaze with annoyance. “Stop yelling my name! Stop talking! Just stop talking all the time!”
Jessalyn's mouth was hanging open and her wide eyes reminded Eva of two saucers.
“Hey, Hey,” a firm and familiar voice reached their ears as someone stepped into the classroom. Eva and Jessalyn looked up to see their class teacher, Mrs Carol Hart, staring at them in amazement. “What's with all the yelling, girls?” she asked with a friendly smile on her face.
Eva looked away, going back to scratching the paint off the table.
“Eva, dear?” Mrs Carol pushed gently, “if I'm correct, it was your voice wasn't it? What's going on?”
Eva just turned a deaf ear to her. She knew her teacher wasn't being serious —not when she was using that tone of voice. Pa was always serious. Pa's tone of voice always made Eva answer his questions. And now Logan's did too. That kind of authority is what she responded to — is what she knew how to respond to, not Mrs Carol's or Miss Dorothy's.
She heard her teacher sigh. “What's the problem, Jessalyn?”
Eva waited for the girl to say something bad, she waited for Mrs Carol to tell her off because she yelled at Jessalyn.
“I-it's nothing,” she stuttered and it looked like she wanted to say something more but didn't. Eva felt glad that Jessalyn hadn't said anything but showed no signs of her satisfaction.
Mrs Carol released another deep sigh, “alright then. Jessie, dear there's still ten minutes of break left so why don't you go join the others out?”
Jessalyn nodded feebly and walked out of the classroom. Eva felt something unfamiliar when she noticed that the girl's face no longer reminded her of the glowing lamppost in her street, but rather like the one back in her old home which was always dull and almost never worked.
She knew she was the one who made Jessalyn sad and that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
When she heard the chair Jessalyn was sitting on being dragged close to her, Eva snapped her head up and realised Mrs Carol hadn't left.
“It's Evelyn Monroe, yes?” the teacher asked casually but with a kind smile on her face.
Something about her reminded Eva of Miss Dorothy Thompson who she'd left behind with pa and her old home. And boy, did she miss her old art teacher.
“Yeah,” Eva replied.
“Yes,” Mrs Carol gently corrected her, “when you speak to a much older person, it's always respectable to say yes rather than yeah.”
“Yes, Mrs Carol,” Eva mumbled under her breath.
“How come I've never seen your mum around here? Doesn't she pick you up?”
I wish she would, Eva thought but didn't say out loud. “No, she doesn't.”
“And how about your father?”
“He's dead,” she replied tonelessly.
Something flickered in the older woman's eyes and when she spoke, her voice seemed to be even kinder. “But I thought you're the daughter of Logan Carter, the famous —”
“No,” Eva's tone was biting, too cold for someone her age. “He is not my pa.”
Mrs Carol seemed to understand as her head moved up and down in a nod. “Yeah, I didn't like my stepdad either when I was small because I missed my own father too much,” she smiled. “But don't worry, you'll learn to like him in some time.”
Eva almost told her teacher that she'd never grow to like Logan — she almost told Mrs Carol that she didn't know what she was talking about.
But she didn't.
For too long, she had been silenced. For too long, she'd been asked to keep quiet.
And it was now too soon to be speaking up.
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Written on; 30th July 2016
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Thank you ❤