Eva paused. She looked at what she had written. No, it was all wrong! She furiously scribbled it out. Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to imagine what she was trying to write yet again...
"Evaline! Where have you gone to, child?" Eva tried not to clench her fists. I am not a child, she thought. She started writing.
Eva could hear her mother rustling through the wheat towards her. She would be found soon. So she tried to get as much writing in as possible.
"So there you are, Evaline! Do you know..." her mother's voice trailed off as she noticed what Eva was doing. "Put that away before your father sees! Do you want him to know I taught you to write?" With a mumbled "No, mother," Eva tucked the scrap of parchment into the pocket cleverly hidden in the hem of her dress.
"Now you come with me, Evaline Larissa Colesdatter! As of the moment, you are supposed to be mending your brothers' work gloves. You wouldn't want them to wear their fingers to the bone, would you?" Eva shook her head woodenly, hearing a little voice in her head say, "What about my fingers, Mother?"
That impertinent voice. Eva wished she could actually say half of what she thought. Of course, if she did, her father probably would sell her to the laborers. She allowed herself half a smile. Perhaps laboring would be less harsh of a life than what she had.
"What are you smirking about, young lady?" Eva's smile vanished. "Nothing," she sighed.
The voice in her head, however, said "Everything."
"Evaline! Where have you gone to, child?" Eva tried not to clench her fists. I am not a child, she thought. She started writing.
Eva could hear her mother rustling through the wheat towards her. She would be found soon. So she tried to get as much writing in as possible.
"So there you are, Evaline! Do you know..." her mother's voice trailed off as she noticed what Eva was doing. "Put that away before your father sees! Do you want him to know I taught you to write?" With a mumbled "No, mother," Eva tucked the scrap of parchment into the pocket cleverly hidden in the hem of her dress.
"Now you come with me, Evaline Larissa Colesdatter! As of the moment, you are supposed to be mending your brothers' work gloves. You wouldn't want them to wear their fingers to the bone, would you?" Eva shook her head woodenly, hearing a little voice in her head say, "What about my fingers, Mother?"
That impertinent voice. Eva wished she could actually say half of what she thought. Of course, if she did, her father probably would sell her to the laborers. She allowed herself half a smile. Perhaps laboring would be less harsh of a life than what she had.
"What are you smirking about, young lady?" Eva's smile vanished. "Nothing," she sighed.
The voice in her head, however, said "Everything."