by Anna Archer
Manny smiled. That was another thing about her father, he wasn’t that fussed on specifics. “Good chat,” she said.
“I’m dismissed?”
“You let yourself in.”
“Right. Yes. Your mother did say I should knock.”
“It’s fine, dad.” Manny tapped her laptop. “Homework.”
“Sure sure, get back at it. That’s my girl.”
Manny watched as her father exited her bedroom. He hadn’t learnt a single thing about her day or how she was actually feeling, yet that one compliment would have sent him soaring away on a high with the belief that everything was indeed okay in the world of his daughter. It was the same when she’d come out to him five years ago. Lots of claps of applause, but no real pause for thought or attention: Was she really okay? Was this really what she wanted? Both answers would have been a resounding yes, but it would have been nice to feel he cared that little bit more. Her mother on the other hand was an over-asker, always there with question after question, unfortunately her questions all related to the impact events might have on her own life and her own world. This morning for example, pushing her to look at the new work offers simply because she wanted her daughter back in the public eye. She wanted her daughter forgiven. That’s what her mother needed. Forgiveness. Not for the anguish her daughter must be going through, but so she herself wouldn’t have to keep apologising for her daughter’s mistake.
Manny smiled remembering her mother’s PowerPoint presentation at the end of the World Cup, detailing all of the sporting heroes who’d come back from public disgrace: David Beckham, sent off in the 1998 World Cup against Argentina for kicking out at Diego Simone. The papers had blamed him for the country’s exit from the competition, even putting his face as the bullseye on a ‘tear-out-and-use-at-home’ dartboard on the back page of one of the most popular newspapers. Tiger Woods, whose numerous infidelities saw his career and public image completely crash and burn. Muhammad Ali, who was stripped of the world heavyweight title because of his objections to the Vietnam War. The list went on, but her mother had relished in the final slide that showcased how each hero had come back bigger and better and were now loved by one and all.
Manny sighed. She didn’t want to be forgiven, she wanted to get on with her life and her life was now at Ridgecrest. Tapping on her laptop, she returned to her work: finding out everything she possibly could about Miss Eve Eden.
****
Pouring herself a glass of red wine and settling down on the sofa in her one-bedroom apartment, Eve pulled open her laptop. She loved this time of night the best when all of her marking and planning was complete and she could relax with a film or some music, or sometimes even a chat on one of the online forums she liked to frequent. No one knew who she was and the cartoon avatar and false name meant she could post what she wanted, when she wanted. It was never mean or gossipy, just nice to be able to express an opinion without caring about the negativity that might come her way. Like the time she’d commented in the Killing Eve forum that season two wasn’t a patch on season one. People had pounced, and if it had happened on Facebook or Twitter she’d have felt incredibly victimised and potentially quite embarrassed about her opinion, but she found being anonymous made it much easier to vocalise her viewpoint. She’d once questioned whether this was an indicator of the type of person she was – wanting to be liked, not wanting to divide opinion, always wanting to keep the peace, but she’d decided it was simply the paranoid teacher in her not willing to ever leave any trace of anything online that could potentially harm her career. How not liking season two of Killing Eve might harm her teaching career she wasn’t sure, but it was always better to be safe than sorry: Exactly the reason why all of her social media accounts were completely locked down.
Opening up the forum search tab, Eve entered the name: Manzana Jones and was shocked when page upon page of results flashed up, and not just mentions of her name in other forums but actual forum topics dedicated solely to her. Most were negative: Manzana Jones is the worst, Who blames Manzana Jones, Manzana Jones is a spoilt brat, World’s worst player Manzana Jones, with the odd positive one popping up: Manzana Jones is fit, Who fancies Manzana Jones, Forgive Manzana Jones. Eve returned to the search tab and entered: Manny Jones, gasping as ten times as many results appeared, again, mostly whole forum topics dedicated to the eighteen-year-old with her name appearing in various other sporting threads as well. Clicking on the top result, Eve held her breath. It was entitled: Manny Jones is the devil, and had been commented on three seconds ago, sending it to the top of the search page. Clutching hold of her wine glass, Eve read, totally aghast. The comments were horrific. Personal. Threatening. Mean. Mostly from what looked like middle-aged men blaming her for losing the final, but also clearly jealous of her footballing skills and good looks.
Eve watched as a new comment flashed up accompanied by a photo: You can’t deny she looks hot in her school uniform though. Eve peered in closer, it was a still taken from today’s news report. Manny’s red and blue check skirt had lifted slightly in the wind and her white shirt was blowing tightly against her breasts. Eve slammed the screen shut. Looking at this wasn’t at all appropriate.
****
Typing quickly, Manny entered the name: Eve Eden into the Facebook search bar, wondering what sort of holier-than-thou parents would call their daughter Eve with the surname Eden. Admittedly she had looked rather angelic in her white tennis skirt and white fitted t-shirt with her blonde ponytail swishing around her shoulders and her black-framed glasses giving her that sexy but serious look of: I could tease you if I wanted to. Manny stopped herself, her teacher hadn’t given her the slightest inkling she was interested, in fact it had been the total opposite, she’d treated her exactly the same as all the other girls which was ultimately rather frustrating. She had wondered whether Eve would bring up the piece of writing she’d completed at form time in which she’d been deliberately honest; not to get attention, but maybe to pique her teacher’s interest as it was the one question that everyone always wanted to ask: Did you do it deliberately? And while she hadn’t directly answered that question, she’d alluded to the fact she’d lost everything, giving Eve an ‘in’ to question her further if she’d so wanted, which she obviously didn’t.
Manny frowned. Surprisingly there were hundreds of people called Eve Eden. Most had a profile picture depicting a scene from the Garden of Eden, but that wouldn’t be Eve’s style. She’d seemed sensible today. She’d have a profile picture of her playing hockey, or maybe a landscape scene from a holiday she’d been on. Manny started to scroll, none of the Eve Edens were jumping out at her. Changing her tack, she searched for Bonnie Bruster instead. Boom, one result. Mrs Bruster from Home Economics smiling back at her, her flame-red fluffy hair and colourful cocktail complete with mini umbrella filling the screen. Manny clicked on the picture, uploaded three weeks ago, liked by twelve people, commented on by two. She read the comments, it was obviously taken on holiday. Clicking on the likes, she smiled. Eve Eden had given it a thumbs up. And there she was, Miss Eden. Or more accurately Miss Eden’s eyebrows peeping over the top of a novel. Clever really, no one would know it was her from a quick scroll and glance. Manny zoomed in. Demi Moore. Inside Out. Why would Miss Eden be reading that?
****
Placing the now closed laptop on the sofa beside her, Eve glanced at the hardback novel resting on her coffee table. What would Demi do? It was a question she often asked herself when experiencing moments of indecision. Demi Moore had come through so much, childhood trauma, addiction, body image issues and was not only hugely likeable, but hugely grounded too, amazing given the fact she was once Hollywood’s highest paid actress. Eve nodded. Demi Moore would be resilient. She wouldn’t entertain thoughts of Manny Jones in any form whatsoever. She’d focus on what was important in her life at that time and wouldn’t let anyone pull her away from the path she’d chosen to travel. Eve nodded. She’d chosen to be an excellent teacher in an excellent schoo
l, dedicating her life to sport and education, and no man, woman, or intriguing fallen footballing hero was ever going to jeopardise that. Lifting her wine, Eve toasted herself and sipped gently, flicking on the TV before groaning as Manny’s face filled the screen.
****
Adjusting the pillow behind her back, Manny continued her search. Eve’s page was completely locked down apart from the profile pictures that Facebook automatically makes public. She scrolled quickly. Eve rarely changed hers with only three others visible: all shots of her hiding behind one piece of Demi Moore memorabilia or other. Her glasses peeping over the top of the DVD case for the film Ghost, her eyebrows raised over a book of Demi Moore Quotes, and her forehead wrinkled above a flawless picture of Demi Moore holding her naked pregnancy bump. Manny had clicked on the various people who’d liked or commented on each picture and managed to find the odd public account where she’d been able to see the odd photo of Eve at a party or event, but in each shot her teacher was alone. What had been the most telling was the information she’d gleaned from Mrs Howard’s Facebook page, the first place she’d tried when returning home from school. Really she shouldn’t be online friends with the head teacher now she was back at Ridgecrest but their genuine friendship that had developed over the years had given her open access to all of Gill’s photos and posts, and Eve Eden wasn’t in any of them, she wasn’t even on Gill Howard’s friends list. Most of the other teachers at Ridgecrest were, but Eve wasn’t hence why she’d tried the blind name search then Mrs Bruster’s account.
Manny paused before clicking quickly. She could use Gill’s friends list to find some other teachers at Ridgecrest and see if they were friends with Eve. She clicked on Mr Turnpike first and groaned as a profile picture of a Bunsen burner popped up and an about info that said: Chemistry is like cooking, just don’t lick the spoon. Scrolling to his friends list she searched for Eve. No matches. She tried again using his list to locate more teachers, again, none of them were friends with Miss Eden. Manny frowned. How peculiar. Why was Eve only friends with Mrs Bruster and why was her account so heavily locked down? Most people who had private accounts still made their friends lists visible and sometimes their about me info, but all you could see on Eve’s page was her name and her weird Demi Moore obsession.
****
Returning to the sofa with her well-worn book of Demi Moore quotes in hand, Eve flicked through the pages with her eyes closed. She carried the book with her like a Bible, often finding a quote that perfectly summarised the situation she was in. Stopping suddenly, she pointed her finger and opened her eyes. She read carefully: I'm a big believer in that if you focus on good skin care, you really won’t need a lot of makeup. Closing her eyes, she tried again, landing on a new page. You have to acknowledge a problem exists before you can actually go about finding a solution. Eve gasped. Demi had done it again. The anxiety she was feeling, it needed to be addressed. Dropping the book onto the sofa, Eve reached for her wine and sipped carefully. What was the problem? She nodded. Manny Jones. She sipped again. But what about Manny Jones? Her presence in school. But why did her presence matter? Because it was inappropriate. Why? Because she was too old and too worldly wise. Are you threatened by her? Maybe. Eve took another sip of wine, glancing down at the book and nodding. Demi needed her to acknowledge the problem. She tried again. Why are you threatened by Manny Jones? Because she’s everything that scares me. What scares you? She knows what she wants. And you don’t? Maybe I do. And what’s that? It’s Manny. Eve gasped at herself. How ridiculous. Picking up the book she flicked and pointed again. Talk about meeting your soul mate ... I truly feel I have been given that gift.
Chapter Eight
Walking into her old-fashioned form room, Eve didn’t want to address the reason she’d changed tops three times that morning. Her workwear was pretty much always the same: a short tennis skirt, a tight t-shirt and trainers. It wasn’t that she deliberately wanted to show off her figure just that tennis skirts only came in short length and women’s t-shirts were almost always fitted, apart from the one she’d finally found at the back of her wardrobe this morning. A freebie she’d been given last year after completing a colour run race. An over-sized unisex t-shirt with the huge colour run logo on the front. It hung almost past her skirt so she’d had to tuck it in and puff it out leaving her looking like a mushroom cloud but at least it didn’t accentuate her breasts. She’d decided that she didn’t want to give Manny Jones any encouragement whatsoever and now, walking into her form room, she realised her assumption that all lesbians liked looking at breasts was probably flawed, but still it was better to be safe than sorry.
“What are you wearing?” gasped Jasmine from her seat at the front.
Dulcie gasped too. “Even I wouldn’t wear that!”
“Oh no, Miss,” said Kitty, “that’s not a good look.”
Eve glanced to the table at the back.
Manny was arms folded and head cocked. “Are you covering up now you’ve got a lesbian in the class?”
“Of course not!” said Eve, flaring with colour. “My washing machine broke.”
Jasmine frowned. “It’s the second day of term. You have at least fourteen different sets of sports skirts and tops. I notice these things.”
“There are other lesbians in the school,” continued Manny.
“Don’t cross that line.”
“No one’s going to cross the line with you in that top,” said Jasmine.
“Good,” nodded Eve.
Manny laughed. “So it was deliberate? Honestly you need to get over yourself, Miss Eden. Do you really think I’d be interested in you?”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Kitty. “According to the biography I read, you’ve had over thirty women.”
“A bit like Jasmine and boys,” said Dulcie.
“At least boys want me,” retorted Jasmine, “no one wants that flat chest of yours, Dulcie.”
Eve slammed her hands onto the table. “Enough! Honestly girls this has to stop! You’ve been an exemplary form for the past two years. What’s going on?”
“They’re sixteen,” said Manny.
“And what’s your excuse?”
Manny laughed. “Burn! I like it.”
“Sorry, Miss Eden,” said Ava, the only girl to have stayed quiet throughout the whole episode. “I like your top.”
“Do you?”
“Well no, not really.”
Eve nodded. “Right, tomorrow the top will be gone, never to return.”
Manny whistled. “Suits me.”
“Manzana, corridor.”
“I didn’t mean because you’d be stood there in your bra!”
“Corridor.” Eve watched as Manny Jones pulled herself up from her table and walked out of the classroom. She addressed the rest of her form. “Girls, it’s a DEAR morning. Drop Everything And Read.”
“Ooo I like it,” said Manny, popping her head back into the classroom.
“Out,” said Eve, with her finger pointing.
Ava whispered. “She’s just trying to fit in, Miss Eden.”
Eve whispered back. “You’re better than this, girls, all of you.” She stared at the guilty faces before turning to exit the classroom. “Again?” she said to Manny once the door was closed and Pete the caretaker had shuffled his way out of sight at the end of the corridor.
Manny shrugged. “I was only joining in.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m an idiot.”
“You are,” said Eve.
Manny laughed. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Right,” said Manny with a nod.
“Aren’t you?” asked Eve, standing so close to her student that the batting back and forth was made even more intense.
“I guess I have been.”
“So stop.”
“Okay I will.”
“Good. I thought we made progress yesterday.”
“In the TV room? We did.”
“So what was t
hat in there?”
Manny sighed. “Just me trying to find my place, I guess. Those girls are all so silly.”
“And you’re not?”
“No honestly, I’m not. I’m just…” Manny shrugged. “I’m struggling. I don’t know who I should be or how I should act. I had another horrible start to my day trying to get past the camera crews and I guess I was just letting off steam.”
Eve stared into the genuine eyes. “Just be you.”
“You wouldn’t like that.”
“Why not?”
Manny paused before speaking softly. “Because the real me would tell you you’re beautiful, crap t-shirt or not.”
Eve stepped backwards.
“See,” said Manny, “I can’t be me, and I didn’t mean that in a weird way, just a woman-to-woman you look great in whatever you wear, way.”
“Oh right,” said Eve, as her cheeks filled with colour.
“Honestly, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. This whole back at school thing’s just going to take some getting used to.”
Eve smiled. “So is having a self-assured superstar in my class.”
Manny laughed. “Hey, you don’t tell me I’m a superstar and I won’t tell you you’re hot.”
Ignoring the comment, Eve signalled towards the classroom. “Do you have a book with you? We read during every other form time.”
Manny pointed through the glass-topped door towards her bag. “I have Demi Moore’s latest biography, Inside Out. It’s absolutely incredible.”
Eve gasped. “Isn’t it?!”
“Have you read it?”
“Cover to cover. Oh wow, do you like her?”
Manny smiled. “I love her.”
****
Sitting behind her teacher’s desk as her form group read in silence, Eve couldn’t help but glance over at Manny. A fellow Demi Moore fan, what were the chances? Pulling the well-worn book of quotes from her rucksack under her desk she kept her head down as she discreetly closed her eyes and flicked. Holding her breath Eve read Demi’s advice. I don’t like to take my clothes off. Eve nodded in approval. Did anyone?