The Secrets of a Luna

Chapter Sixty-Four: A Picture Saves a Heart

Hudson:

The teenage version of Evie colored away on my leg cast, her hair covering her bruised eye. Tugging on her black sweater dress, it hid the fresh bruises. My breath hitched at her real smile, her free hand flipping off my crushes. Always the ground shaker, her attitude was a part of what I had always loved about her.  At this point  the school knew better than to ask, the idiots letting my old man get away with his heinous crimes. 

"Can't they understand that you're mine and only mine." She grumbled under her breath, focusing on the task at hand. "I won't ever let you go." Smiling softly to myself, these were the moments I had wanted to last forever. The bell rang for the last period, teardrops splashed onto my cast. Of course she was sad, my father beat her pretty bad last night.  Think of something to soften the hurt plaguing her mind, her loving gaze falling on me for a quick second before averting to the project at hand.  

"Do you want to skip study hall?" I suggested with a crooked grin, the art teacher allowing us to stay. "Would you like to get a milkshake with me? I have to pay you back for the artwork." Shooting me a thumbs up, she focused back on the mural of detailed wolves running through a field. Instead of teaching the class, the art teacher and students watched her work with wonder brightening their eyes. Only pausing to put headphones in, she listened to some heavy metal. Finishing up, confusion dawned on her face at the audience. Smiling brightly at all of them, she helped me up. The art teacher pulled her aside, kind words passing between them. Allowing them to take pictures, she gathered her supplies. Always a gentle soul, no one could darken her golden heart. 

"You owe me a milkshake, right?" She chirped cheerfully, kissing me on the forehead. "I am starving. Hell, I'll drive." My mother had let me use her car that day, Evie clearing her throat. Leaning forward, her bright smile stole my heart. Thanking the art teacher, a paper fluttered in her hands. Dancing down the hall, she looked so free. Skidding to a stop, her eyes fell on the national art trophy in the cabinet. Hope glimmered in her eyes, a couple of mean girls slammed her against the wall. Dumping her bag out, a bunch of handwritten papers fluttered to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes, the girls shredding the pages. A snarl twitched on her lips, her fists meeting their cheeks. Flying back into the wall, the plagues rattled to the floor. This was new, her rage showing for the first time. 

"I spent months on that novel!" She shouted venomously, the principal running out. His eyes fell on the shredded paper, then a huffing Evie. Turning his head to the knocked out girls, he turned his back. Clearing his throat, he put his hands up in the air. What the hell was this guy up to?

"I am going to turn around and you won't be there, right Miss Evelyn." He said in an irritated tone as Evie was already scooping up the shredded pages. "As for you three, I expect you will be in detention for a week. You can't destroy another student's property. Don't throw another punch or you will be joining them. Am I understood?" A trembling Evie shoved it all into her bag, anger and anxiety flooded from her eyes. Running down the hall, she skidded my mother's white sedan. Plopping down into her seat, her phone rang. My father's voice thundered on the other end of the phone, her hands trembling. Why did he have to destroy every tender moment we had!

"He said I could drive you home." She wept brokenly, my eyes falling on the bruises from yesterday. She had better listen or the consequences could be met. The ride home was deathly quiet, teardrops staining her lap. Stopping in front of the house, she parked the car. Stepping out, her boots pounded into her home. Swears and bangs echoed in the air, more bruises covered Evie's face. Blood dripped from a busted lip, her art supplies hid underneath her arms. Going to our spot, I struggled to get out of the car. Hobbling after her, the charcoal danced across the canvas. Watching in pure wonder, some time had passed. Stepping on a branch, her eyes met mine. Charcoal lined her cheeks, shame dimmed her eyes. What compelled her to feel so ashamed? In my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Seeing her work woke up a feeling of wonder in my heart.