Anonymous

Eleven

The next school week was torture for Jake and Eva. Jake couldn't concentrate and snapped at Chris and Caleb a couple times. He just couldn't put himself into whatever was supposed to be holding his attention. Eva acted the same as she always did. She even managed to look excited when she told Amie and Maggie about the proposal, but when no one was looking, her face dropped, it was obvious she wasn't sleeping, and you could see how hard it was for her to keep it together.

Every night, Jake, his grandfather, and their service dog would go to sleep every night, his grandfather trying to remember where Elizabeth was, and Jake wishing he could forget. Every night, a new cut appeared on Eva's wrist, and Mare would sing to her until she fell asleep, silent tears running down her cheek. The cuts were nothing new, but they became more frequent, more frantic, as the week wore on.

It was the Saturday before their last full week of school and Eva and Jake met again, by accident, at the school. This time, Jake didn't run, Eva wasn't startled, they just sat together with Jake's half-finished picture behind them. Mr. Bir had painted over the previous one. Neither of them had to pretend they were okay. They both knew the other one could see through that facade as easily as through the glass into their classroom.

"What happened, Jake?" Eva finally asked.

"She's gone," he said. "She died in a coma while I was at school. I should have been there. Why was I not there?"

"Your grandmother?" Eva asked softly.

Jake nodded. "Why are you here?"

Eva bit her lip. "My mom's engaged."

"What's so bad about that?" Jake asked.

"He's Mary's dad," Eva said. "And he's been cheating on her the whole time they've been together. Mare tried to talk to him about it and she's covered in bruises every day I get home. My mom won't believe me either."

"You didn't come here because of your mom's engagement," Jake said after a moment. "You came here for the same reason as me: because you feel helpless. You need to feel in control of something or you are going to lose it."

"Two weeks ago," Eva said. "I wasn't just walking. I was walking to the train tracks, and I wasn't planning on walking away."

"Here," Jake said, handing her a can of spray paint. Eva looked at him in confusion. "Help me."

"With what?"

"With my way of taking back control. I don't want to feel like I have to hide who I am. I don't want to live with the fear of someone finding out. I want to tell people. I wanted to tell her."

"Give me the paint can."