Last Friday Night
Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Evaine walked down the road toward home. It was a sign that fall was on the way, and with it came the first muggy, overcast day since summer ended. Patches of thick clouds traveled overhead, scattering the sunlight in uneven rays like curtains opening and closing over and over again. The heat warmed her enough to work up an uncomfortable sweat as she walked, but the breeze that affected the air so turbulently was just cold enough to bite at her cheeks and chill her toes.
Fitting, she thought, as the gloomy sky mirrored her foul mood. A perfect little cherry on top of an already miserable day that was barely halfway through with her. Most days she could deal with the usual dull grind of high school life, the loneliness of having nobody to sit with at lunch, or the frustration of trying to make nice with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest.
But today, oh boy. Today she had been asked to read her paper aloud in English, and the whole class kept on talking like she wasn't even standing there, red-faced and stuttering in front of everybody. The teacher just had her sit back down before she was even finished so they could move onto the next presentation. Today Tanner Humphreys "borrowed" her favorite pen in math and straight up ignored her when she asked for it back at the end of class.
Today she had missed her bus home because her history teacher made her stay late to discuss why she was already failing barely two months into the semester. For almost twenty minutes he droned on about personal accountability and how colleges would certainly not be impressed by such a track record as hers, and wouldn't she be so embarrassed if she wasn't able to graduate with her senior class?
And so she had missed the bus, leaving her to walk home in this miserable weather while she stewed in her foul mood, and it was made all the worse by knowing that she had no one to blame but herself. Her fault for giving up on her grades, for trusting Tanner to give the pen back, for not speaking up during her presentation.
So lost in her own moping, Evaine was taken by surprise when she looked up and realized that she had walked all the way to the end of Richmond Avenue. Any other day she would have crossed the street to avoid being so close to the monster house; she didn't like the way its drooping porch looked like a downturned mouth set in a grimace and the boarded windows like eyes permanently sewn shut. That place had always given her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies ever since she was a child, and standing at the gates as a near adult was no different.
Evaine quickly tore her eyes away, as if staring too long would make the house aware of her presence, and turned to cross the street with a renewed pace. She knew there was a faster way home, just past the end of Richmond where the road turned into the dirt walking path through the Jericho woods. That way would lead right right up to her own backyard in half the time, but it would also take her so close to the monster house that she could see into those holes that the patchwork couldn't quite cover, and then she would have to face the creeping feeling that if she could see inside, then maybe something inside could see her, too.
No, she would always choose the safe, reliable path of the sidewalk and the extra five minutes that it added to her route.
When she finally reached home, trudging across the lawn that was still yellow after such a dry season, she was met at the driveway by her mother's car pulling in. It wasn't out of the ordinary for her mom to come home early on Fridays, letting her attendant, Parker, close up shop so she and Evaine could catch a movie or get dinner together. What was out of the ordinary was Evaine making it home from school a good half hour later than the bus drop off time.
"Running late?" asked her mom as she stepped out of the car, bringing with her the smell of moist fertilizer that seemed to waft straight from her overalls. Evaine doubted that her mom had a single item of clothing left in her closet that wasn't stained by dirt and leafy smears of green, but the "bringing your work home with you" jokes had gotten old a long time ago.
Besides, it wouldn't matter if she was wearing a burlap sack or a glittering ball gown; Mary Dawson was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it was so unfair to Evaine who felt like a toad in comparison. Her mom had the most lovely honey blonde hair that she usually kept pulled up in a working bun, but feathery little wisps always found their way back to her face. Evaine's own hair was so red it could warn away predators, and an unruly mess of curls to boot. Her mom's eyes were a soft blue, bracketed by little laugh lines that did nothing to detract from her natural glow, while Evaine's were brown over much darker skin that still bore the freckles from summer. Her mother had the kind of warm smile that could turn anyone into a friend, and it lit up her face as she greeted her daughter.
"Yeah...I need you to sign something for me," Evaine confessed, choosing to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. Her eyes remained shamefully glued to the ground as she reached into her pants pocket where she had folded up the piece of paper from her history teacher.
Her mom accepted the paper with a bracing sigh, walking on toward the house as she read, her frown deepening with every word. Evaine unlocked and opened the front door for her, and they both stood in the foyer for a long moment of tense silence while her mom finished the scathing review of her academic progress.
"Well, it's not exactly a glowing letter of praise," her mom said, making a generous effort to not sound too disappointed. She set down her work bag and went to pull a pen from the entryway table.
"I don't know what to say..." Evaine mumbled, feeling even worse for the mild reaction, if that was even possible.
"Look, I'm not about to stand here and yell at you about how you're better than this and there's no excuse for laziness," her mom said as she handed back the signed paper. "I had a hard time in high school, too. I was unfocused and too naïve to think about my future in any realistic way, and every time my parents yelled at me or tried to punish me for it, I just hated school more and more. So, I'm not going to do that to you. E, I know you've been having a hard time, and senior year is enough pressure as it is. All I want is for you to do your best to get through it, and just try."
"I know, it just feels like this year is the hardest it's ever been," Evaine admitted, hating the sound of self-pity in her own voice. She folded her arms across her chest, willing the frustrated tears to stop stinging at the back of her eyes. "I mean, everyone else is talking about college and career paths right now, and I'm just sitting in class every day doing all this work that just feels so pointless and exhausting when I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with myself when it's all over."
"Hey, getting stuck in a bad attitude isn't going to solve anything," her mom said with a voice that was anything but berating. She pulled Evaine into her arms for one of those soul-mending hugs that never failed to chase the clouds away. "Listen, just get through this year whatever way you can. You know I'd prefer it if you got a diploma, but even I had to settle for a GED. Once school is over, you can come work with me at the shop and take general classes at the community college until you pick a career path. Believe it or not, senior year is not 'do or die' for your future. I think once you start to live your life outside of high school, you'll find your way."
"Yeah, I think so," Evaine said, puffing out a breath against her mom's shoulder, wishing she could be that hopeful for herself. For now, all she had was the gnawing guilt that made her feel worse for letting things get this bad. Needing a change of subject before her bad mood could drown her completely, she disentangled herself from her mom's hug and forced a smile. "Were we going to do something tonight? Is that why you're home early?"
"Actually, the ladies from the community garden are getting together for dinner," her mom explained with an apologetic wince like she knew Evaine might've gotten her hopes up. "Do you want to order a pizza? Should I bring something back?"
"Nah, I'll pick something up," Evaine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, refusing to let it show on her face that she indeed had gotten her hopes up. "If you're going out, I think I'll go to the library or walk around the plaza for a bit."
"That's the spirit! Get all dolled up, see what kind of trouble you can get into," her mom encouraged with a playful wink, the kind that said she was only half joking. Her mom-humor was the contagious kind, and despite herself, Evaine began to feel a little better.
Her mom's version of getting ready for a night out involved showering, blowing out and curling her hair, painting on a light layer of makeup, and donning the sleekest black dress in her closet that she held onto just for such occasions. In the same amount of time, Evaine paced back and forth from her closet to her laundry hamper, regretting the fact that she hadn't bothered to pick up anything nice during her yearly school shopping trip. After spending way too long struggling to make a decision, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and one of her newer graphic tees. Just to feel more dressed up, she laced up her red sneakers instead of the black ones. Sneakers, because of course she would be walking for the rest of the night. In the muggy heat and icy wind. Again.
She went into her mother's room to give herself a final look in their full-length mirror, feeling reasonably satisfied with her work. The shirt was smooth and unwrinkled, her jeans were worn in and soft, and her sneakers looked clean and well cared for. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail in anticipation of a breezy night, and gelled down as much of the frizz as she could manage. It wasn't the same level of style as she'd seen the other girls at school wearing lately, but if tonight was the night to try her luck and maybe talk to somebody new, at least she wouldn't be too self conscious.
It was a nice thought, but it lasted for only a moment before her mother came to stand beside her to use the mirror as well, fluffing out her sculpted curls and fixing her dress. Side by side, all Evaine could see was what set them apart from each other, and her heart sank with the familiar weight of disappointment.
When she was a child, she used to ask her mom if she would grow up to look like her, like all these things that made her different were nothing more than growing pains to be overcome. Even after the truth had been explained to her, she would still daydream about waking up one day to find that she had magically blossomed into that version of herself she always wished she could become. If only she could be a little more like her mother, she would think in those critical moments, if only she could be prettier, more charming...then her life could really begin. People would look at her and pay attention when she talked, and they would call her up and invite her places on Friday nights just because they enjoyed her company, and she would be such a good friend to have.
It took a long time for her to understand what it meant to be adopted, and many more years after that to accept that the face she saw in the mirror was the only one she would ever have, that there would never be a fairytale moment to turn this pauper into a princess.