Home > Eliza and Her Monsters(3)

Eliza and Her Monsters(3)
Author: Francesca Zappia

“Great! Wallace, this is Eliza. You can go ahead and sit next to her.”

Wallace follows me to my seat in the back of the room. He moves slow, sits slow, and looks around like he’s still asleep. He glances at me again, and when I don’t say anything, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts going through texts.

I didn’t want to say anything to him, anyway. The school isn’t that confusing—I’m sure he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own.

I curl up my legs in the desk chair, set my sketchbook against them so no one can see the inside, and begin work on the next Monstrous Sea page. I forget Wallace. I forget Mrs. Grier. I forget this whole school.

I’m gone.

I get through the day the way I always do: by disappearing so well the teachers never see me, and by resisting the temptation to check the Monstrous Sea forums on my phone. I’ve heard it’s much easier to get through school when you have friends to talk to, but all my friends are online. I used to have offline friends. Or at least I thought I did. Growing up, I had friends in school and in my neighborhood, but never good friends. Never friends who invited me to sleepovers or movies. I got invited to a couple of birthday parties, but sometimes I think that was because my mom badgered other moms. I was a weird kid then, and I’m weird now. Except now neither I nor any of my classmates is under the delusion that we have to interact with each other on a more than superficial basis.

Dad likes to say thinking I’m weird is normal. “Well, Eggs, you’re just going to have to trust me when I say that’s a thing a lot of kids your age think.” Maybe he’s right. All I know is, last year Casey Miller saw me walking behind her in the hallway and actually squealed in fear before she skipped away. She halfheartedly apologized a second later, of course, but it was a packed hallway during passing period—who gets scared by another student behind them? I know a week before that, I walked into gym late because of particularly nasty period cramps and scored my entire class ten minutes of stair laps that to this day have earned me the sort of looks that should be reserved for murderers. I know a few months before that, Manny Rodriguez invited some of his swimmer friends to cut me in the lunch line, only to have them refuse because they were afraid I’d call down a demon on them.

Is that the kind of person I seem like? A cultist? A religious fanatic? Am I so weird I should be the bad guy of the week on a prime-time television crime show?

My parents wonder why I don’t have more friends, and this is why: because I don’t want to be friends with these people. Even the nice ones think I’m weird; I can see it in their faces when they get paired with me for projects. I’m the person you pray the teacher doesn’t call for your group. Not because I’m a terrible student, or because I make you do all the work, but because I dress like a homeless person and I never talk. When I was really little, it was endearing. Now it’s strange.

I should have grown out of it.

I should want to be social.

I should desire friends I can see with my eyes and touch with my hands.

But I don’t want to be friends with people who have already decided I’m too weird to live. Maybe if they knew who I am and what I’ve made, maybe then they wouldn’t think I was so weird. Maybe then the weird would just be eccentric. But the only person I can be in this school is Eliza Mirk, and Eliza Mirk is barely a footnote in anyone’s life. Including mine.

By the seventh-period bell, I have a whole new page of Monstrous Sea ready for inking, but my mind is on the page at home I still have to finish. New pages go up on Friday nights, always, like TV shows or sporting events. My readers like consistency. I like giving it to them.

I toss the books I don’t need back into my locker and make my way to the parking lot, sticking close to the walls and shrinking until I barely feel myself there. Most people are already in their cars, clogging the lot. I make my way out the school’s front doors, digging through my bag for my keys.

That kid Wallace sits on one of the benches on the front walk, phone in one hand and screen turned up like he’s waiting for a message, a pen in the other hand so he can write on the sheaf of papers on the binder in his lap. Still looks like he’s falling asleep. He might need a ride home. Or maybe he’s just smart and knows it’s better to wait until the parking lot clears out to try to leave. I stop outside the doors and watch him for a moment. I could offer him a ride, but that would be strange. Eliza Mirk does not offer rides, and no one asks her for them.

When he starts to look up, I turn away and hurry out to my car.

CHAPTER 4

Apocalypse_Cow: are you working on the next page right now?

MirkerLurker: No—finished one earlier. Now sitting in the car going to my brothers’ soccer game. Only have my sketchbook.

emmersmacks: Bummer

emmersmacks: Hey did you get my care package

MirkerLurker: No! You sent another one? You didn’t have to do that, Em!

emmersmacks: :DDD I love sending stuff to you guys!! Besides this ones got good stuff in it

Apocalypse_Cow: when do they not have good stuff in them?

Apocalypse_Cow: also where’s MY care package???

emmersmacks: Oh calm down youre getting one too dummy

emmersmacks: E youre going to be around for the Dog Days livewatch right

MirkerLurker: Duh. The day I miss Dog Days is the day I eat my own foot.

Apocalypse_Cow: *takes screenshot*

Apocalypse_Cow: let it be known on this day that if eliza ever misses dog days, she will eat her own foot.

emmersmacks: Masterminds would love that one

emmersmacks: Creator of Monstrous Sea eats own foot over teen soap opera

Apocalypse_Cow: tacky teen soap opera.

MirkerLurker: Tacky teen soap opera? Yes. Wildly entertaining? Also yes.

emmersmacks: Amen

“Are you texting your boyfriend again?” Sully nudges up against my side, putting his chin on my shoulder. At his words, Church pulls away from the car window on my other side and leans in too. I slam my phone facedown on the sketchbook in my lap.

“Stop reading over my shoulder,” I snap. “And it’s not my boyfriend. It’s just Max and Emmy.”

“Oh, just Max and Emmy,” Sully says, making air quotes. “Sure.” Church snickers and copies the air quotes a second later.

“Be nice back there,” Mom chirps from the passenger seat. Dad makes a sound of agreement.

We pull into the parking lot of the gym where Sully and Church play indoor soccer. The half-hour drive went fast thanks to Max and Emmy, but I don’t look at the phone again until the two nightmares climb out of the car. Then I follow Mom and Dad into the building, with my nose in the phone.

Apocalypse_Cow: but seriously tho, dog days is the worst

emmersmacks: Not worse than the second season when Chris got with Ben

Apocalypse_Cow: chris got with jason in the second season, not ben

emmersmacks: Says the guy who doesnt watch Dog Days

Apocalypse_Cow: . . .

emmersmacks: Ah how the mighty have fallen

I snicker. Dad looks over his shoulder at me. “What’s so funny, Eggs?”

I turn off the phone and press it to my sketchbook again. Annoyance pings over my humor, little dark spots in the lightness. “Nothing.”

Until I’m sure neither Mom or Dad are looking back again, I keep the phone down and my eyes up. This gym is more like a warehouse than anything. A big empty room with movable walls as dividers between different courts. Volleyball, basketball, tennis. The place is huge. In the center is a walled-in soccer field with bleachers and everything. I take a picture and send it to the chat.

MirkerLurker: This place is actual hell.

emmersmacks: My sister hangs out at one of those gyms

emmersmacks: They make me want to shower

Apocalypse_Cow: that is weirdly specific, ems. sorry for your luck, e.

MirkerLurker: When I die here, bury me with my art.

Apocalypse_Cow: songs will be sung. potential mourned. someone will have to notify the fans, of course. as head security admin for the ms forums, i accept this responsibility.

emmersmacks: When did you start calling yourself Head Security Admin

emmersmacks: All you do is ban trolls

“Oh, Eliza, look.” Mom’s hand brushes my shoulder. I look up and find her examining a poster on a board by the gym entrance. Dad and the boys have already taken off toward the soccer field, where the teams warm up for their game. “They’re starting tennis lessons soon. I really think you’d love tennis—it’s a solitary game, and it’s great exercise.”

   
Most Popular
» Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University #1)
» Kill Switch (Devil's Night #3)
» Hold Me Today (Put A Ring On It #1)
» Spinning Silver
» Birthday Girl
» A Nordic King (Royal Romance #3)
» The Wild Heir (Royal Romance #2)
» The Swedish Prince (Royal Romance #1)
» Nothing Personal (Karina Halle)
» My Life in Shambles
» The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen #4)
» The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)
romance.readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024