Evangeline
The restaurant, a four-star reputed for their fresh seafood is absolutely packed with people. Waiters and waitresses scurry around with plates piled high with food while somewhere in the back, a toddler can be heard throwing a tantrum.
Mariam beams at us and motions for us to follow her lead. My father walks alongside her, a frown prominent on his face. Ever since they've been home, the atmosphere has been kinda tense, but Mariam seems oblivious. Lucky her.
The circular table we're seated at has a view of the street outside. I flick through the menu idly. Stereotypical seafood restaurant dishes. Seafood carbonara, clam chowder soup, paella, you name it. I quickly decide what I want and let Mariam know. She smiles and nods, then turns to rattle off all of the orders to the waiter who has just arrived.
"Evangeline." My head jerks up immediately. My father is staring at me with his usual blank face. "Yes, Dad?"
He laces his hands together, still pinning me with his intense stare. "I want to know about your academic performance in school. What was stated in your report book for the semester."
I hope my face isn't reflecting the apprehensive surprise I feel. I clear my throat awkwardly. "Most of my subjects are good, but mathematics needs improvement." His face darkens. "Your mathematics should be top grade. Do you hear me?" It wasn't a question. "Yes, Dad." I say meekly, hiding my true feelings behind a mask of compliance. "Lucas, son," he calls, suddenly smiling bright as day. "You checked over Asher and Evangeline's report cards, yes? Please tell me your opinion on my daughter's grades."
Lucas nods, a smile plastered across his face. I wonder if it's real or fake. "Yeah, I did. Both do seem to have some trouble with maths, though. Eighth grade is kinda hard." He chuckles nervously.
My father scoffs. "Well, it's understandable for Asher, but Evangeline shouldn't have a problem since she managed to skip a grade!"
Lucas laughs again and tries to change the subject, but my father is stubborn as hell. Mariam and the rest spare uncomfortable glances as the waiter departs.
Unconsciously, my hand inches toward the person closet to me. My fingers curl in soft material. Cotton? Asher's hand wraps around mine, and he squeezes it gently.
I'm embarrassed that my father is acting like this in front of our stepfamily, and pissed as fuck that he demands so much of me, even if I've tried my very hardest, and still criticises every little thing. He wants his daughter to be the best of the best: gifted in everything, obedient and easily controlled. Seen but not heard. Is it not enough I studied my ass off in order to skip a grade for him? That I'm expected to address him with utmost deference even though he treats me like shit? Living with Mariam's sons has made me realise how horrible he really is.
And maybe it's made me soft, too. In the past, there was no one I could cry to or confide in. But now, fate has gifted me with some amazing people I can draw strength from.
I meet my father's eyes full on. Can he see that I have just as much fire in my gaze as he does? Maybe even more. "If that's the case, how about I get a tutor? And if you're unwilling to fund that, I can get a part time job after school."
I want to gloat at my father's fury filled face. I rarely speak up or talk back to him. Even then, it would result in a slap to the face, and harsh words, but I don't care right now. He can't cause a scene in public, and at home, I'm sure my brothers would shadow me for the next 24 hours in a preventative measure regarding the last incident.
Mariam pats my father's hand. "Dear, that's a good idea. Can't we try it out?" I see him visibly force a smile, though in truth it's more of a bared teeth look. No mistaking the vein pulsing at his forehead, no?
"It would be helpful," Asher chimes in. They are trying to diffuse the situation, which I feel grateful for. I simply can't stand the atmosphere.
"Fine." My father growls. "Lucas. Find them a tutor."
Neither Asher or I are able to suppress the triumphant grins.
I won this battle, Dad.
