Chapter Eight
Seventeen Years Ago - Evelyn
I FOLLOW THE rest of the kids as they shuffle into the other room after breakfast, the wooden floors creaking beneath my pink sneakers. They’re still a little wet from when I tried to clean them last night, after I finally found the courage to crawl out from under my bed.
The inside of this house is weird. Everything looks rather dull, pretty much everything is brown, even the trim and the floors. Nobody did that thinking it would look good, because the obvious choice would have been white. Who builds a house this big, just to let it fall apart?
The kids stop around the table in the entryway—also brown—so I do, too. There’s five of us in total, but none of them pay me any mind. There’s a kind-looking boy with glasses who gives me a small smile before looking down. Another smaller one with lighter hair, like mine. His eyes stay glued to the floor, so I couldn’t tell you what color they are. Another girl, older than me but even more reserved than the others, gazes off in the direction of anywhere but here, telling me all I need to know about becoming friends.
A black magician’s hat sits on the table and I perk up. This must be for me. All the kids get to watch as I pick out my new name and leave the past behind me. Like nothing ever happened.
“You.”
The big red man means me. I swallow, planting my feet and sticking my shoulders back to look tall. “Yes?”
“Come here.”
By his tone, you’d think this wasn’t very exciting, but I won’t let him ruin my chirpy mood. I take a step forward, and from the corner of my eye, I swear Ryder angles his body, as if he means to put himself between me and the big red man.
I take another step so he can’t and shoot him a look. His jaw slackens, but my eyes are back on the magic hat. Ryder may have watched out for me at breakfast, but he isn’t my problem right now.
The big red man picks up the hat, giving the papers inside a little toss before shoving it toward me. No fancy words or special ceremony, then. That’s fine, I don’t need one. I’m special enough on my own.
“Reach in and grab one.”
My heart starts pounding, believing this moment to be everything I’d wish for it to be. I reach inside the hat, the many pieces of paper tickling my fingers as they wriggle around, letting the magic in the hat guide where they go.
“Hurry up.”
I frown, needing just another moment to make sure I grab the perfect name, but the big red man is already pulling the hat away, so my fingers latch on to the first one they can reach before my hand meets the open air.
The big red man snatches the piece of paper from my hand, so little compared to his, before gruffly reading out, “Evelyn.”
My nose scrunches up. “Wha– what ? Are you sure?”
“I can read, if that’s what you’re asking.” He crumples up the piece of paper and puts it in his pocket. “We’ll call you Evelyn in this house.”
“But…well…I didn’t mean to pick that one.”
“I don’t care.”
“I was hoping maybe –”
“THAT. IS. YOUR. NAME.” The big red man turns redder, and I remember the bruises on Ryder’s face. “Am I understood, Evelyn ?”
It hurts, it physically hurts to be quiet and nod my head, but I do.
“Since we have a newcomer, I will remind you all of the rules.”
No making noise.
No running in the house.
Playing is allowed in your room, but remain quiet as you do so.
Don’t spill anything.
Don’t break anything.
Don’t touch anything that isn’t yours.
No eating outside of designated shared mealtimes.
You may enter your assigned room, assigned bathroom, the dining room, and hallways connecting them. All other rooms in the house are off limits, unless it’s where you’re to do your chores.
You may go outside, but the garden is off limits.
You are to complete your assigned schoolwork and chores daily.
My bottom lip juts out as I realize there’s no hope of turning this disaster of a morning around. The big red man cares more about his rules than my name, and I’m truly stuck with it.
Evelyn.
Ryder catches my eye, looking as pissy as he did when I refused to eat my breakfast, as if he could possibly have a reason to be annoyed. He’s not the one who got someone’s grandmother’s name. I don’t care whether he thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth, or if he stops looking out for me because of it.
It’s my name. It’s supposed to define who I’m going to be. Getting the name Evelyn basically means I’ll spend my life scooping kitty litter. How cruel can this world be!?!
“Evelyn, your chore will be doing the laundry.”
“I don’t know how to do laundry.” Mom was supposed to teach me, but then the washing machine broke and…
Ryder steps forward. “I’ll teach her.”
I elbow him in the ribs. He elbows me back.
The big red man glares at us, but turns and walks away. “You are all dismissed.”
The other kids wait for his footsteps to fade before shuffling off to do whatever they’re allowed to do in this miserable, brown house. I plant my feet and cross my arms, and turn, ready to face off with Ryder.
“Standing like that doesn’t make you look scary.”
“I don’t need to look scary to be scary.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Why didn’t you eat your breakfast?”
“I don’t like eggs.”
“Just squirt some ketchup on it to hide the taste.”
“I don’t like ketchup. Or mayo. Or mustard. Or hot dogs. Or anything that’s kind of mushy. Or raisins. Or anything too difficult to chew.”
Ryder looks at me, perplexed. “What do you like?”
“Chicken nuggets.”
Ryder shakes his head before pulling on his hair and whispering, “I’m so fucked.”
“That’s a bad word.”
“We’re in a bad place, so it’s allowed.”
That seems reasonable enough. “Fuck.”
Ryder laughs. “That shouldn’t be as funny as it is.”
I roll my eyes, making a mental note to practice saying it later.
“Why did your nose do that scrunchy thing when you got your new name?”
My shoulders slump. “I sound like a nan .”
“No, you don’t.” Ryder takes a step closer.
“You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not stupid enough to believe you anyway,” I grumble. “Have you ever met a seven-year-old named Evelyn?”
Ryder nudges my shoulder. “Seven and one quarter.”
I can’t help it, I smile a little. But seriously, it’s just a little.
Ryder gives my ponytail a little tug. “What if you went by Evie?”
Evie. That’s not so bad.
Smoothing down my hair, “I’ll think about it.”
“Can I call you Evie? To start with?”
I purse my lips, contemplating it. “Okay. You can call me Evie.”
His lips twitch to the side, like he would have cared whether I’d said no instead. “Okay, Evie, then it’s time you learn how to do laundry without turning it all pink.”
· · ·
“I bet I could beat you.”
Ryder looks over at me from where he folds some laundry. “At what?”
“Anything, really.”
He snorts, which I find insulting.
“You don’t think I can?”
“I’m sure you could beat me at a lot of things, but maybe not anything.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl?”
Ryder holds up his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?”
“I meant, that even if you’re really good at a lot of things, you can’t be the best at everything.”
“I disagree.”
Ryder opens his mouth but shuts it, thinking better of whatever he was going to say. Smart boy. We go back to folding laundry, but eventually Ryder tosses a sock at me. “Actually, if anyone is going to be the best at everything, it’ll be you.”
I throw the sock back at him, not sure what to say.
Ryder definitely isn’t the worst thing about this awful, brown house.