The Happy Rules

1

Rule 1: No matter what, you do not cry in front of other people.

➳

You know that feeling you get? You want to cry, you should cry, you need to cry, but you can't cry because it feels like the whole world is watching you. And you are not weak. You can't be weak, because being weak means showing them how you feel, and you can't do that. You can't show them how you feel because they just don't get it.

So you don't cry. Instead you have this excruciating lump in your throat and you're trying to swallow it, but you can't and it hurts, it hurts so bad, but you can't get rid of the pain. So you try to blink back the waterfall of tears and try over and over to swallow the lump.

I have that stupid lump now, sitting beside my mother, who has plastered a fake smile on her face and is nodding as Mrs Jason, our Headteacher, talks in front of us. A few months before What Happened, I would probably have faked a smile too.

But not anymore. Everybody knows what happened. Everybody knows that I tried to kill myself. So what's the fucking point of smiling like everything's okay? I'm done with that now. I'm done pretending that everything's okay, pretending that I don't feel as crushed as a beer can on the side of the pavement.

I'm so fucking done.

On the other hand, Mrs Jason isn't done. She's still sitting with her eyes full of soppy sympathy as she explains How This Is Going To Work. Mrs Jason is a huge fan of How This Is Going To Work speeches. She makes them in almost every assembly she holds. But lucky ole me, I get to have a private one, just because I dragged a knife over my wrists.

"Eva?" She's looking at me now. The pity in her eyes is worse than the look of anger she gave me when I bumped into her about three years ago, back in Year Ten. "Are you listening, dear?"

Dear. I hate that pet name. It gives me shudders. But I don't object, instead giving her a tight-lipped nod, avoiding her eyes. Back in Year Ten, I would have probably gushed out with a sincere apology, asking her to repeat what she said. But not now. Because I'm not that bubbly Year Ten anymore, as much as my mum would like me to be. As much as I would like me to be.

"Mrs Jason was saying that you'll still be able to sit your exams," Mum says from next to me. She knows I wasn't listening. But seriously? Exams? I don't give a shit about my A-Levels. "Considering it's the start of Year Thirteen, and you didn't miss anything from last year, you should be good."

She's not looking at me. Ever since What Happened, she won't look me straight in the eye and she won't talk to me properly. It's like I'm a stranger. But I don't blame her. What do you say to someone who's just tried to kill themselves, anyway?

"And we have an excellent school counsellor here if you ever need anything." Mrs Jason leans forward, baring her teeth in a sickly-sweet smile. A Fake Smile. They're everywhere. Everyone wears one, and I know that when I walk into class in about five minutes, there's going to be a lot of those Fake Smiles directed towards me. She slides a green pass across the table. "If you ever need anything during school hours, just flash this card at your teacher, and they'll let you go, okay?"

I nod again. "Thanks, Miss." My voice is scratchy and hoarse, and I'm still avoiding her gaze.

"Well!" Mrs Jason claps her hands, smiling again. "Eva, I think maybe you should head to your first class, seeing as you're already ten minutes late. Your Mum and I just need to have a little chat."

I push my chair back and sling my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks, Mrs Jason," I say, but I don't mean it. It's just polite. I don't say anything to my Mum as I leave the office, trudging towards my first class - History.

It's not long before I'm standing outside the door, hands shaking ever so slightly, and stomach churning like a flipping washing machine. It takes me a full two minutes to muster up the courage to push the door handle down and swing the door open.

First comes the eagerness, as everyone whips around to see who's standing in the doorway. Then it's shock, as they realise it's me. And then it's the whispers, and the Fake Smiles.

"Eva!" Me Samson, the History teacher turns to see me. A whirlwind of emotions cross his face in about three seconds. Sadness. Pity. And... is that... guilt? I'm used to the first two, but not the third. He feels guilty, I realise, he feels guilty he didn't notice something was wrong. "Good to see you, Eva," he says, a smile on his face. "Take a seat over there, next to Emma."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Emma, of all people? I tug the sleeves of my grey hoodie further down, until they've completely swallowed my hands, and make my way to the back of the class. Emma looks at me, wide-eyed, and she's not the only one. I can feel the rest of the class watching me, but I ignore them, slumping into my seat and letting my dark brown hair fall in front of my face. But once everyone's attention has been directed back to Mr Samson, I sneak a glance at Emma.

Emma Stone and I were friends, once upon a time. From day one of Year Seven, all the way to Year Ten. And then we fought, about something so stupid. I don't even remember what it was. How ridiculous is that? A friendship of three years was broken over something I can't even remember.

Of course, I had other friends. Becky. Emily. Liz. But they weren't the same as Emma. They didn't want to go screaming through the hallways once exams were over. They didn't copy each other's homework, or make last minute dashes to the library to print out that English essay. And to be honest, they didn't seem to like me much.

I guess that's when this whole Eva Woods has no friends thing started. I drifted away from Becky and Emily and the rest, preferring to spend more and more time alone in the library. Emma, on the other hand, became friends with Chloe and Hannah and those lot. The more popular girls. The prettier ones. Emma would always have fitted in there - she had the most amazing blonde hair, which I had always envied. It was so much more vibrant than my dull, brown hair. If I ever said this to her, she would always laugh and say, "Every blondie needs a brownie, Evie."

I tried to call her, right before... right before What Happened. I don't know why. I guess I wanted to hear her voice, her laugh one more time. She was my best friend, after all. So I tried to call her.

She didn't pick up.

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And there we have it, guys and gals and non-binary pals! The first chapter of The Happy Rules. As I said in my author's note, it's pretty heavy, but I hope you enjoyed it.
What do you guys think of Eva so far? And Emma?
Leave me comments, I'm lonelyyyy!
- dee xx