Solitude

Part Two

Her past had scarred her, she would never forget it. She kept her eyes on the ground at school, she couldn’t let anyone see the pain. The worry. The devastation. The tears.

She didn’t cry at school but she did at home, in her room when everyone else was sleeping. She didn't make any noise but it was still crying...

She was failing school, she didn't do her assignments. One day at school before winter break, a teacher came up to her while she was at her locker after school and said, “Please come with me.”

She grabbed her stuff and locked her locker and followed the teacher, eyes downcast.

They walked down the hallway. Past the bathrooms and then took a right. At the end of that hall another right.

It was the teacher's classroom. They went in and the teacher sat down at her desk and motioned to a chair and told the girl to sit. She did.

“Is something wrong?” the teacher asked softly.

“No,” said the girl. “Of course not. Everything is fine.”

“Please. Don’t lie to me. I can help you.”

I can help you. As she heard the words the girl said forcefully, “I don’t need help.”

“I’m just worried about you,” said the teacher, Eve Diollo.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Diollo,” the girl said. “I’m going to miss the bus.”

“Go on, then,” said Eve. “But take this.” She handed her student a piece of paper. “It’s my phone number, my cell. If you ever need something, call.”

The girl nodded. “Okay,” she said, even though she knew she’d never dial the number. She hurried out to the buses and went to lane S. But her bus had just left.

She turned and, zipping her coat, started the trek home on the chilly winter afternoon.