Eudora's Gift

Chapter Two

Eudora tried to sneak quietly through the trailer.  Her uncle was not in his chair, and that worried her.  She went into the kitchen and put two slices of bread in the toaster.  She had just pressed the lever down when she heard him bellow.

"Dora!  You lazy b***h!  Where are my f*****g keys?"

She didn't answer him.  She didn't take his keys.  He had probably left them in his truck when he staggered in drunk last night.  She looked between the toaster and the back door.  She knew she should hurry out, but she was so hungry.  Her dinner had landed on the floor last night when he pushed her into the table.  She shouldered her back pack and hovered over the toaster.

Her uncle came bursting out of the bedroom, already reeking of alcohol, even though it was only 7 in the morning.  "Where's my coffee?"  She looked helplessly at the coffee maker.  In the chaos last night, she had forgot to set up the machine.  Foster followed her gaze to the empty carafe and swore again.  He back-handed her in the face.  "You're f*****g useless, you fat, ungrateful w***e.  I feed you, I shelter you, and you can't even make a god-damned cup of coffee."  He picked up a dirty mug from the counter and lobbed it at her head, but she was able to duck as the ceramic mug smashed into the back of the stove.

Her toast popped up, and she grabbed it, scorching her fingers.  Her uncle was blocking her exit through the back door, so she dodged around the counter and sprinted for the front door.  She heard him crashing through the living room behind her, but she was too fast for him to catch.  She bolted for the woods, taking a shortcut to the bus stop at the bottom of the road.  She knew her drunk uncle would not follow her into the forest.  She did not stop running until she reached the bottom of the road.  She was the only kid at this stop.  She wiped the sweat off her forehead and her upper lip, and sat on the boulder by the road sign to wait for the bus.  She nibbled on her dry toast, wishing she'd been able to get some butter and jam on it this morning... but at least she had something to put in her stomach.

School was almost as unbearable as home.  Almost.  She had always been the outcast, even in elementary school.  Kids had always teased her and bullied her.  But she liked to learn, and she was a good student.  She wanted to finish high-school.  Then when she had her diploma, at least she could look for a job in the city, and get away from Uncle Foster.

She pulled her grey hoodie over her head, and used her long hair to cover her face so that the new bruising and swelling would be hidden.  It was an old game.  The bus pulled up, and she climbed on, and slunk into an empty seat.  Nobody paid her any attention, and that was just fine.  On a good day, she flew under the radar, and no one bothered her.  School had just opened for the year, and so far the only problem seemed to be that her locker was right next to Troy Jackson's locker.  Troy was the captain of the football team, and the biggest asshole in the senior class, followed closely by his lackeys Eric Mortem and Adam Turner.  Eric Mortem's father owned the slate quarry, and was arguably the richest man in Mount Tabor.  Adam Turner was another spoiled rich boy.  His father was a doctor in Rutland.

She hurried off the bus, trying to get to her locker before Troy made his way upstairs.  She quickly stuffed her books in and grabbed her English binder, but she wasn't quick enough.  "Hey fatty!  What the hell are you doing?  I can't get to my locker around your big ass."  Troy shoved her aside roughly, and slammed her locker shut.  The little crowd that always seemed to follow him snickered, as if it was really cute and clever the way he abused her.  She simply pulled her hood down lower, ducked her head, and hurried down the hall to her AP English class.  One good thing about being one of the geeky smart kids – she didn’t share any classes with the jocks.

She slipped into the back of the classroom, to her usual desk by the window.  She liked that she could stare out into the trees when things got tense or boring.  She took out her book and her binder and a pen and waited while other kids rushed to get in before the late bell.  The bell rang, but strangely, there was no teacher.  Where was Mrs. Dipalma?

The kids' whispering soon became loud and rowdy conversation in the absence of an adult in the classroom.  They barely noticed when the door opened, and the principle entered, followed by an unknown man.

"Hey, hey, quiet down!" Mr. Leonard wrapped his knuckles on one of the front desks to get the classes attention.  "As some of you may or may not know, Mrs. Dipalma is out on maternity leave, starting today.  This is Mr. Carrole, he will be your substitute until she returns.  I expect you will give him your full respect and help him to feel welcomed here.  Mr. Carrole... your first period class."

Eudora watched warily under her hair as the man set his briefcase and a jacket on the chair, and surveyed the class.  He didn't look like a teacher, he looked like a god.  He was tall and handsome.  The crisp dress shirt and the tie looked all wrong on his broad shoulders.  Judging by the way he kept tugging at his collar, he wasn’t really into wearing ties.  His hair was long and shaggy, brushed carelessly away from  his strong, angular face.  His full lips were pressed into a small smile, and his sharp grey eyes were scanning the classroom.  He actually sniffed the air, as if he smelled something.

"So guys..." he started casually.  "I'm sure that I do things a little differently than Mrs. Dipalma, but we will be covering the same basic curriculum.  I understand you had essays to write last week, so if you would please turn those in, I will review your work.  I think that will give me a pretty good idea of where you are at in this class."  Eudora slipped out her paper.  Other students had type written papers, printed off their computers and laptops, but hers was hand written.  Usually she tried to use the computers in the school library, but she had no opportunity over the weekend.  She hoped that Mr. Carrole was not the kind of teacher to deduct points for a hand-written assignment.

 Class went on much as usual.  There was some discussion about the chapters they had just read, but Eudora never participated in discussions unless she absolutely had to.  She just sat quietly in the back and doodled on her notebook as she listened.  If she heard something she thought was particularly important or relevant she jotted it down in her notes. 

"Okay, I'm passing out a list of American authors.  I'd like each of you to sign up for the author of your choice, and read at least three novels by that author.  Each of you needs to pick a different author, so if someone has already signed up for your favorite, pick someone else.  You'll be writing reports on each of the books you read, and then compiling an over all analysis of the author after you complete the three books."

There was a groan from some of the students.  The paper was passed around, and naturally, it reached her back corner last.  All of the interesting American authors had been taken, and she had to take some obscure writer she had never heard of.  She wrote her name next to the author and passed the paper back up.  The bell finally rang and she packed up and escaped before most of the other students had even stood up.