Page 2 of Shattered Crown
"Only if you're swimming in shark-infested waters while bleeding profusely from an open wound," I said. "Your period? Sharks couldn't care less. They've got better things to do. Like being sharks."
And then, just as I’d been waiting for, I saw Madison lean over to whisper something to the girl to her left. They both glanced toward the window. Toward Evie.
I changed direction and positioned myself between Madison's line of sight and her target. "Madison, since you seem to have extra energy, why don't you read the next section aloud? Page forty-seven, it’s about hormonal changes. I’m sure you know all about that."
Her eyes flashed angrily at me. She knew exactly what I was doing. But she opened her textbook, found the page, and began reading in a flat monotone designed to convey maximum disinterest. I didn’t care. I was determined to hold off the incoming crisis for as long as possible.
I let her finish the paragraph before thanking her with a warmth I didn't feel.
The lesson continued. I kept my voice steady, my body language open, my attention split between the material and the invisible currents running through the room.
I fielded questions about cramps, about breast development, about why some girls got acne, and others didn't. Madison had a few things to say about that. I glanced at her acne-free face.Give it two years, honey, and those pimples will come knocking,I wanted to say. But I didn’t need to. She’ll find out on her own. And when that day comes, there’ll be someone else waiting to overthrow her.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands together. "Time for the hands-on portion. And before anyone panics, no one is touching anyone else. We're just going to examine some models anddiagrams up close. Think of it as a museum exhibit for your body."
I gestured toward the tables I'd set up along the side of the room, each one displaying different educational materials. Pamphlets about menstruation. Diagrams of developing bodies. A basket of sample products. Pads, tampons, the works that I'd brought from the Foundation's health initiative supplies.
The girls migrated from their desks in clusters. Madison and her cohorts claimed the table nearest the door, giggling over a pamphlet about breast development. The quieter girls gravitated toward the products table, examining the unfamiliar items with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
Evie hadn't moved.
She didn’t look scared. The look in those distant brown eyes was disinterest. Her body was in the classroom, but her mind wasn’t. If only Madison could see how little Evie cared about her. But maybe that was the problem. Evie didn’t care about her at all, and Madison wasn’t used to that.
I circulated through the room, answering questions in low voices, normalizing the awkwardness one conversation at a time.
“Miss Kealoha? I haven’t gotten my period yet. My sister got hers at ten. When will that happen?” another girl asked.
I tore my gaze away from Evie. “Your body will decide when the time is right, honey. Just be patient.”
I turned back to the room just as Evie finally stood. She moved slowly, making her way toward the pamphlet table. I wasn’t sure what made her stand up, but I hoped it was genuine interest. The fact that everyone seemed to give her space made it clear that she wasn’t very liked here. But why?
Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. I saw Madison exchange a look with her sidekicks, and then they started moving, heading straight for the pamphlet table. Evie’shead was down. She wasn’t watching where she was going or making eye contact with anyone.
My legs started moving. I knew exactly what was about to happen.
“Madison, get back to…”
Madison's elbow caught Evie's shoulder. My feet halted their movement at the sound of the collision. Evie stumbled sideways. Her hip hit the corner of a desk. I started moving again, but it was too late. Evie reached for something to steady herself, but found only air. Her head struck the edge of the adjacent desk on the way down.
“Evie!”
The sound of my voice seemed to bring her back to reality. She sat up, pressed her hand to her forehead, and it came away red, and the room fractured into noise.
I was already there. Three strides, maybe four, my knees hitting the floor beside her hard enough to bruise. The handkerchief came out of my pocket without conscious thought.
"You're okay," I said, pressing the fabric to the wound with firm pressure. "You're okay."
Brown eyes stared up at me. They went wide.Did you not expect me to help you?I thought. And then, slowly, tears began to stream down her cheeks.
She wasn’t making a single sound. Not even a whimper or a sob. Just crying without noise, like she’d trained herself to hide her pain.
I couldn’t understand why. Did nobody ever care for her? From the way she was looking at me, I could tell she wasn’t used to physical contact of any kind. My heart broke for her. Every child deserved love, no matter what.
"You," I said without pointing at the girl who had sat in front of Evie. "Go to the nurse's office. Tell her we have a head wound and she needs to come now. Walk quickly, don't run." She staredat the blood for a moment, then sprinted away. "Everyone else, please return to your seats. Give us space."
The shuffle of movement filled the air as the girls returned to their seats. I didn’t bother with Madison. At least not yet. I had to make sure Evie was alright first.
I kept my focus on her. "Can you tell me your full name?"
