Free Blackbird by Abigail Graham Page A

throat.
    “Evelyn,” she says.
    I put the half-eaten burger on the paper in my lap and thoroughly clean my hands with a pale yellow napkin. I fold the burger in the paper and stick it back in the bag, and take a long pull on the soda she bought me.
    “Thank you for lunch,” I say, barely more than a whisper.
    Alicia says nothing else until she balls up the wrapper from her fish sandwich and tosses it in the open bag. She reaches for the key, to start the van.
    “Wait.”
    Her hand sinks back to her lap. I stare straight ahead.
    “This is what happened.”

Chapter Seven

    Evelyn

    Mrs. Vanderburg placed the folder in my hands.
    “You’ve done very well, Eve.”
    My face lit up in a smile so hard it hurt. This was a strange week. I was saying goodbye to my tutors. A dozen admission letters rested in two neat stacks on my desk, behind Mrs. V. Of all my teachers, she was the one I loved most. For the last four years, all through high school, she visited three times per week to instruct me in mathematics. I missed a few points on the papers she handed back, but I didn’t care. I was excited and full of fear at the same time, my stomach doing backflips.
    Today I would be saying goodbye to a fixture in my life. When you are eighteen years old, four years is a long time. In all those years of instruction, I’d never seen Mrs. V wear anything but an ankle length dress, usually buttoned to her neck. She looked like she belonged in a Victorian period piece, except for her big oversized glasses, more practical than stylish. In the years I’d known her, half-moon shaped bifocal lenses had appeared in those glasses, and her tightly wound bun went from silver to mostly white.
    I almost didn’t bother looking at the papers. It was a foregone conclusion at this point. The paperwork had been filed, and I had my diploma, the equivalent of an honors track diploma at a regular high school. Deep down I’ve always suspected that every homeschooled student earns a perfect grade point average, but I know I earned it.
    “Have you decided where you’ll be going?”
    I blinked a few times and glanced at the letters.
    “I’m not sure yet.” My voice was tiny then, soft, barely more than a whisper.
    “You have quite a selection to choose from.” The note of approval in her voice makes my pride swell.
    She took my hands, and cleared her throat, but she was becoming choked up. I felt my eyes burn in return.
    “Students like you are the reason I wanted to become a teacher,” she told me, with a wistful sigh. “I worry about you, though.”
    “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
    She smiles and pats my hand. “No, sweet girl. You did nothing wrong. You are a kind, sensitive, well mannered young woman and you are very intelligent, and, if I may say so, quite beautiful. Just look at you blush.”
    I was blushing.
    “Be very careful,” she said, a note of warning in her voice. “You’re very trusting. Soon you’ll be on your own, with no one there to look out for you but yourself. You have to be very careful, especially about young men.”
    I nodded. “I know. F-father talked to me about this.”
    She let out a long sigh, released my hands and folded her own in her lap.
    “Eve, normally I would not say this, but what will he do, hmm? Fire me? Your father is not always right. I want you to be cautious. He wants to control every aspect of your life. In truth, I think you’d have prospered in traditional school. A private institution, perhaps. You are very intelligent and learn quickly, but there are some lessons only people your own age can teach you, and   you’ve been deprived of them. I don’t know why.”
    She cleared her throat.
    “I’d ask you not to repeat any of this. I depend on recommendations in my line of work, you understand.”
    I nod. “Of course, I’ll keep anything you say in confidence.”
    “‘Be careful’ doesn’t mean ‘stay away from every boy’. You’re intelligent. Use that intelligence. Trust