Evangeline
"What the hell was that? Did I waste my time coming here to watch you prance around on a track?"
I don't respond, only peering up at my angry father through my lashes. The moment I screwed up, I knew I was in for a spat with him sometime after. The car ride home after the event, the atmosphere was horrible. I tuned out the pitying affection from Max and Christopher on either side of me. I could literally visualise the aura of blackness emanating from Dad's pores. I didn't have to see is face to know how pissed he was. Behind my back, Lucas had begged him and Mariam to cut their business trip short just to come back home for today. I actually feel worse for wasting their time compared to the stinging humiliation I feel from messing up.
I stare glumly at my ankle, encased in the knee brace I borrowed from Daniel. It's a reminder of my failure, an the reason why my dad's grilling me like hell. Since moving in with the boys, its been a sort of refuge from the constant confrontations I dealt with from Dad everyday. Now that he's yelling again, the idea of enduring it silently makes my skin itch.
I tune out my father's rant and my mind cuts to earlier, just after the race.
"Don't be disappointed," he'd said and smiled his kind smile as he knelt in front of me and gingerly strapped it onto my ankle. How could I not, really? My first competition, where my brothers and him and even Mariam and Dad came, and I screwed it up by tripping halfway.
Godammit, Evangeline.
I don't think he's going to hit me today, since him and Mariam are due for their flight in less than an hour. Just as he looks like he's about to go bust, I'm saved by the sound of Mariam calling for her husband. He shuts up and stays downstairs to join his wife at the door.
Mariam pulls me to the side. "Don't be disheartened, love." She pats my cheek and pulls me into a hug. I breathe in the comforting scent of her floral perfume, something she's worn for years. I wrap my arms around her, but she flinches as if in pain.
"Are you okay?"
"Ah...sorry. I bumped into the...table corner the other day." Mariam pulls back with a pained smile and kisses my cheek, releasing me. I take a moment to scan my stepmother's body. She looks the same as eight years ago, but more gaunt, drained. There are bags under her eyes and creases around her mouth that were never there before. I spot a patch of discolouration on her throat, above her collarbone, like uneven concealer applied without enough time to dry.
Alarms go off in my head, but I can't act on them as Dad ushers her out the door. She looks back one more time. Her baby blue eyes, the same as her sons', hold mine, pupils quivering before she whips her head back around.
He casts one final sneer in my direction when my brother's aren't looking as he hefts his bags onto his shoulders. The door slams shut.
"Hey, Evie..." Chris begins gently, but Lucas stops him with a hand to the chest. "Not now, dude." I give them a fragile smile, barely suppressing the ball of roiling negativity inside my chest from exploding and causing my face to twist into a tear-streaked grimace. "Sorry, guys. I'm fine, but I'll be awhile before I start with dinner prep." None of the boys attempt to stop me as I then walk stiffly upstairs. I storm into the shower and turn up the water full blast, boiling hot. A few tears manage to escape my tightly shut eyes. They mix with the stream of water running in between my beasts, gushing down my back and the soap suds dripping off my elbows.
As I towel myself off, I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror and slap myself. Sure, even if I feel awful, I shouldn't be skulking around just because I messed up one insignificant competition. There'll be many more opportunities to come in future if I decide to pursue the thing I love. I spend a few more minutes examining my appearance. The broadened shoulders and showing development in my arms, borne from months of painful pushups. Tapered waist, slim hips, dark knees, skin dusted with a fine layer of feathery hair.
