Eva's Journey (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

O
n Monday, Ella wasn't at school, and I ended up sitting next to a girl who I'd never noticed before. She was tall and thin, and her straight brown hair hung like a curtain half way across her face. What I could see of her face was blank, like it had been drawn by an artist who wasn't very good at catching expressions, She sat still and silent in her seat, almost like she wanted to be invisible.

‘I'm Eva,' I said as I sat down.

‘I know,' said the girl. Her voice was hoarse, almost like she wasn't used to talking.

Then there was a long silence.

‘And?' I said.

‘And what?'

I sighed.

‘This is the bit where you say,
Hi, Eva, my name is whatever. Nice to meet you!
and all that stuff. You know – it's called conversation. Lots of people do it. You should try it some time.'

It was hard to tell from behind her curtain of hair, but I don't think she even smiled.

‘I'm Ruby,' she said, and then she hunched over her homework diary, making it clear that this very short conversation was now over.

I was considering getting up and finding somewhere else to sit, but just then Mr Gowing came in to the classroom, so reluctantly, I stayed where I was.

It was a very long day.

After another few attempts, I stopped trying to chat to Ruby. I felt like I was wasting my breath. It would have been easier to talk to one of the grey classroom walls.

When at last the bell rang for home time, I hurried to pack up my books.

‘Bye, Ruby,' I said. ‘It was totally fun chatting to
you today.'

She gazed at me with the same blank expression she'd worn all day.

No conversation skills and no sense of humour I thought. I really know how to pick people to sit next to.

Ruby was still gazing at me.

‘Be like that,' I muttered as I zipped up my bag.

But then I sighed as Madam Margarita's words began their daily echo through my head.

Help people.

Any fool could see that Ruby needed help, but needing help and wanting help were two very different things.

And besides, how could you help someone who wouldn't even talk to you?

But …

‘Hey, Ruby,' I said. ‘Do you want to be my partner for our maths project? We could go to the library after school tomorrow and get started if you like.'

Ruby put her head up quickly and her hair
swished back. For the first time, I saw her face properly. She had perfect, clear skin and huge brown eyes. For one second, the blank expression disappeared, and she looked … surprised? …… pleased? I wasn't sure which.

‘Thank you, Eva,' she said quietly.

‘So you want us to work together?' I said, realising that I had been half-hoping that she was going to refuse.

‘No,' she said quickly. ‘But thank you for asking me anyway.'

Suddenly I felt offended.

‘So why don't you want to work with me?' I asked.

It's not like people are queuing up to be your partner.

‘I'm going to do my maths project on my own. Mr Gowing said that's OK.'

Why would anyone choose to work on their own, when they could be working with a friend who'd do at least half the work?

It was like Ruby could read my mind.

‘I'm sorry, Eva,' she said. ‘I don't mean to be rude, but … I'm a very busy person … I don't really have time for friends. Don't take it personally, OK?'

That was just about the weirdest thing anyone had ever said to me.

How could anyone be too busy for friends?

Ruby must have some very time-consuming hobbies.

While I was still thinking of a reply, Ruby had picked up her bag and was gone.

The next day I sat next to Ella again, and we did our project together.

And so another week passed by in a flurry of small acts of kindness that didn't seem to be getting me anywhere closer to my dream.

Chapter Fifteen

O
n Saturday morning, Mum handed me five euro. Before I could get excited, she said,

‘Go to the market in Bridge Street, and buy me some apples and bananas.'

I gasped like she'd asked me to go to the moon.

‘The market?' I repeated. ‘What's wrong with Johann? Is he sick?'

(Johann was the man who delivered a big box of organic fruit and vegetables to our house every week. He was really nice, and in the summer, he always brought extra strawberries because he knew I loved them.)

Mum sat down, and I braced myself for a speech.

‘Darling, you do understand how bad things are
financially?'

Why would I understand?

She'd only told me about ten thousand times?

‘But you said we had to cut out luxuries,' I protested. ‘And I'm OK with that – well not OK exactly, but at least I understand where you're coming from. But surely fruit isn't a luxury?'

Mum gave a sad smile.

‘Welcome to the real world, darling. In the real world, not everyone gets their fruit delivered by a nice Dutch man in a pretty green van with flowers painted on the side. And I'm afraid we can't afford it any more either.'

‘But the market?' I said again. ‘Why can't I go to the supermarket, where normal people shop?'

She sighed.

‘Even in the supermarket, fruit is expensive. And Gemma next door shops in the market all the time. She tells me that fruit there is a lot cheaper, and it's lovely and fresh too.'

I knew there wasn't any point in arguing. My mum, who never used to mind spending hundreds
of euro on a handbag, was becoming an expert on saving a few cents here and there.

So, feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood, I set off for the market, hoping with all my heart that I wouldn't meet any wolves on the way.

It was a lovely sunny day, and the market was crowded. Everyone seemed happy as they wandered by, laden with bunches of flowers and newspaper-wrapped parcels. After a while, I found a stall selling fruit and vegetables. There were crowds of people waiting to buy.

‘Why is it so slow?' asked a big wide man who was standing in front of me.

‘It's always like this,' said the woman next to him. ‘The poor girl who is running the stall is on her own. I don't know how she manages.'

Who cared about the stall-holder?

How was I supposed to manage?

I'd never bought stuff that wasn't already packed up in plastic bags with labels on them.

How was I supposed to figure out how much
fruit I could buy with my five euro?

Should I keep buying one apple and one banana at a time until my money ran out?

And how popular would that make me with the people behind me in the queue?

While I was still trying to decide what to do, the big man in front of me moved away, and I found myself standing right at the front of the fruit stall. The sun was shining in my eyes, and I blinked to make sure that I was seeing correctly. After a few blinks I was sure – I'd know that long brown hair anywhere – I'd know that blank expression anywhere – the girl serving the fruit and vegetables was Ruby.

She didn't see me. She was working as fast as she possibly could – weighing stuff, and taking money and giving change and shoving fruit and vegetables into big brown paper bags.

She looked pale and tired and stressed. Even though this girl was totally weird, and totally unfriendly, it was impossible not to feel sorry for her.

‘Would you like me to help you for a while?' I said, but Ruby didn't hear me as a rough woman was shouting at her to hurry up and weigh her potatoes.

‘Would …?' I began again, but then I stopped.

I knew I was wasting my breath.

I knew that offering to help Ruby was a mistake.

I knew she'd just say no.

She'd just blank me, like she had at school.

She looked like a girl who'd already had lots of practice at blanking people.

So I wriggled out from the crowd of customers, and slipped behind the stall. When Ruby reached for a bag to put the potatoes into, I was ready, with an open bag in my hand.

For one second she stared at me, and then she took the bag, filled it with potatoes and handed it to the customer.

‘Thanks,' she muttered, and I smiled to myself.

Progress.

The next customer selected some apples,
handed them to me, and I put them in a bag, while Ruby sorted out the money.

Ruby still looked a bit confused, but the customers had copped on fairly quickly.

The two of us worked really quickly, and after ten minutes, the crowd had cleared and we had a chance to breathe.

‘You can go now,' said Ruby, as she rearranged some apples that had slipped into the pear section of the stall.

‘But I was just starting to enjoy myself. And besides, it's sure to get busy again in a few minutes.'

She looked embarrassed.

‘I'll manage. I'm used to it. I've been doing this for … well for a long time.'

I still didn't move.

‘Thanks for helping me, Eva,' said Ruby. ‘But I can't afford to pay you or anything.'

‘I'm just helping you, ‘I said. ‘I don't expect to be paid.'

Now Ruby looked even more puzzled. ‘Why
would you want to help me?'

I didn't answer at first. There was no way I was telling this girl about Madam Margarita.

Clearly she was already a fully signed-up weirdo, and I didn't want her thinking that she and I had something in common.

‘I just like helping people,' I said. ‘Now get ready, I can see some customers coming.'

The morning passed quickly. Some of the customers were really nice. Some were funny. And some were just plain weird.

At one stage a tiny woman hobbled over towards the stall. She looked like she was about two hundred years old, with a wizened face and long straggly hair. She was wearing a brown coat that was patched here and there with scraps of grey fabric that looked suspiciously like cut up underpants. On her feet was a pair of old mens' working boots.

‘The poor little thing,' I whispered as she came closer.

‘Poor my eye,' whispered Ruby back. ‘That's Mamie. Everyone in the market hates her. She's one of the richest women in town, but she's totally mean. She's never once paid full price for anything here.'

I grinned.

‘Leave her to me. I like a challenge.'

Soon, the woman was next to us, picking through the apples.

‘How much are these?' she asked in a croaky voice, exactly like the wicked witch in a fairy-tale. I wondered if she planned to poison one of the apples and feed it to some unsuspecting young girl.

‘Same as last week,' said Ruby. ‘Six for a euro.'

‘Six for a euro!' said Mamie with a loud cackle that made everyone around turn and stare at us. A few of the nearby stallholders gave sympathetic looks in our direction.

‘That's daylight robbery,' she said. ‘They're all bruised. Look.'

She held up two perfect, unblemished apples.

Ruby went red.

‘Maybe we can….' she began, but I edged her aside.

‘No, Ruby,' I said. ‘You've made a mistake. These aren't six for a euro, remember? These are the specially imported Guatamalan Gold apples. There's only a few left and they're two for a euro.'

Mamie narrowed her beady eyes and licked her dry, cracked lips.

‘You said six for a euro, so you have to sell them to me for that. It's the law. I know my rights.'

‘I bet you do,' I muttered.

Then I gave a big long sigh.

‘I suppose she's right,' I said to Ruby. ‘We'll have to give her six for a euro. But don't make that mistake again, or you'll have us bankrupt in no time.'

I packed up six apples, managing to sneak in one bruised one that had been put aside for pig-food. Ruby took the euro from Mamie's stick-like hand, and Mamie scuttled off, cackling as she went.

‘Old Mamie's too cute for the lot of them.'

There was a sudden clapping sound. I looked up to see that the stallholders on either side were applauding me. I gave a small bow, trying to hide the red that was spreading across my cheeks.

This was so much fun.

An hour later, the market closed for the day. By then I was exhausted.

Who'd have thought that selling fruit and vegetables could be so tiring?

‘What time did you start this morning?' I asked.

‘Seven-thirty,' said Ruby.

I gulped. Even on school mornings I didn't get up that early.

‘And do you work here every Saturday?'

She nodded.

‘Yes. And on Sundays too, and on Wednesday and Friday afternoons after school.'

‘Wow,' I said.

No wonder the poor girl had no time for friends. I was having trouble understanding how
she found time for basic stuff like sleeping and eating.

It was all too hard for me to take in. Victoria's big sister babysat occasionally, but I'd never before met someone my age who had a real job.

‘But …' I struggled, but I couldn't find a polite way to ask the question. So I went right ahead and asked it the rude way. ‘Aren't there laws about young people like us working for a living?'

‘There are laws about young people like us starving too,' snapped Ruby.

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘I didn't mean to offend you. It's just ……. well you're running a market stall – all on your own.'

She shrugged.

‘It's really my mum's stall, but she's been sick lately, so I have to do it. My uncle opens up the stall for me and he lifts all the heavy boxes, and my big sister helps out whenever she's not working. It's not so bad really.'

She stopped speaking and her face went blank again. She had only spoken a few sentences, but
she looked like she was sorry she had said so much.

We didn't speak any more, as I helped her to carry the half-empty boxes into a shed behind the stall. Ruby was just locking up when I remembered why I was in the market in the first place.