My Eyes Are Open

Chapter Four

A/N: In this story, Matilda is mostly a mix of the book, movie, and musical, with some parts of her story stolen from Annie. This is really when the Annie part starts to play in.


The rest of the afternoon flies by for the little girl, as she excitedly waits for the day to be over so Matilda and Miss Honey can go to the library. She's so distracted, in fact, that she hardly reads after she turned in her assignment. Finally, the dismissal bell rings throughout Crunchem Hall and Matilda stays behind as the rest of her classmates say goodbye to their teacher and rush out the door. "Matilda, honey, I'll only need a moment to finish these grades if you would shut the blinds for me." Miss Honey smiles at the girl over her glasses.

Matilda nods as she finishes shifting the items from her desk to her backpack, then closes the blinds on all the windows before standing beside her teacher's desk. "Thank you, dear." Miss Honey notes when she realizes the girl is done. The young woman stands from her desk and closes her folders of grades. That last assignment she was grading was a real doozy. It was Lavender's, and ended up with more than a few pink corrective marks across it. Miss Honey considers having Matilda try a new approach with the girl about the difference between 'b's and 'd's and 'p's.

"Are you ready to go?" Miss Honey asks, slipping the folder into her top desk drawer and her glasses into her cardigan pocket.

"Yes, Miss Honey." The girl smiles up at her teacher.

The woman gives her a tight-lipped, but happy, grin and offers her hand, which the little girl readily accepts. Once Miss Honey closes the classroom door behind them, the two girls walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk to the local library, a path they're both very familiar with. Matilda chatters on discussing what she learned that day about the human brain and its miraculous functions and parts, while Miss Honey listens interestedly. Listening to the young girl is miraculous in itself, she thinks, and Matilda is so vivid and precise when she is speaking about something she finds interesting—which is most everything. Miss Honey doesn't mind just bouncing ideas back to the girl; she's grateful for it, actually. It's refreshing.

They reach their destination too soon and both are disappointed by it. As soon as they walk through the door, Mrs. Phelps—the librarian—is at the front desk to greet them. Miss Honey now stands tall enough to prop her elbows on the counter, and smiles fondly down at Matilda who can't see over the edge even while standing on her tip-toes. "What a sight for sore eyes, you two are!" Mrs. Phelps exclaims as she affectionately pats the teacher's arm. Secretly, the woman—now well in to old age—has always felt protective and somewhat responsible for Jenny. The librarian remembers when the girl was much younger, when her father was alive, that she got her first library card. The girl must've been only five or six, but Magnus had been determined to give his daughter the gift of imagination and other-worldliness that only books can provide. Seeing the little girl come in to this library at least twice a week—sometimes much more, and sometimes skipping several weeks, however rare—and watching her grow into the beautiful and kind young woman that she has become, despite her upbringing, has made Mrs. Phelps into a guardian of this safe place for the teacher. A role that she takes very seriously. A role that is similarly provided to Matilda. Watching Jenny and Matilda enter the library together, knowing that they found each other, consummates the librarian's duty and satiates her worries for the girls.

"Another story, Matilda?" Mrs. Phelps stands to see the child over the counter of the grand front desk.

"I'm afraid I can't today, Mrs. Phelps. I've got to take a test!" Matilda lively tells her. Though Matilda is not the type to get behind on assignments—and definitely not to have need for retests—Mrs. Phelps wonders what she means, but doesn't ask. She knows the child doesn't appreciate her prying.

Mrs. Phelps waves goodbye to the pair as they venture further into the library. An hour later, she goes to check on them and finds them in the corner of the famous poets' section—Jennifer Honey's known favorite—with Matilda in the middle of some sort of examination and Jenny in the middle of some book. She doesn't interrupt them and returns to complete the literary catalog on her desk.

It's just after six o'clock when the teacher and student emerge from the back of the library, looking a little worse for wear. "Good evening, Mrs. Phelps." Matilda waves to the librarian on their way to the door.

"Good evening, Matilda." The librarian smiles fondly to the little girl, before sobering to stop the woman, "Jenny, dear." She waits for the younger woman, and therefore the girl too, to slow and pause in front of the front desk, "Good luck tomorrow. I know how hard the day is for you. I'll have tea waiting for you when you come by."

Jenny looks at her shoes for a moment before remembering she needs to respond, she gives a reserved, curt nod while pursing her lips and frowning, "Thank you." She forces a bright smile. "Have a good evening, Mrs. Phelps."

The librarian wants to remind the girl to call her by her first name, once again, that the title is far too formal for their relationship. But she doesn't, because she knows the young woman is far too polite. She'll pursue the matter later; on a day that isn't so close to tomorrow.

Jenny had almost forgotten what day tomorrow is, with all the chaos recently. Like every year, she'll call in sick to school in the morning and it'll be the one day of the year that her aunt shows her any sort of humanity, though she doubts that's really the reason Jenny is permitted to miss class this day every year.

"What day is tomorrow?" Matilda asks as they walk down the sidewalk of the main street of town. Miss Honey had offered to walk her home, since it was getting late. The girl is anxious for her teacher to see where she lives and is desperate to deflect the anxiety. Although Miss Honey definitely seems more like a spring baby, Matilda hopes that tomorrow is her teacher's birthday and that they can celebrate it; she's already brainstorming ideas for a birthday card Matilda can make. She can borrow some of the special colored crayons that come in the big box of 100—Lavender has a set—and she'll draw sunshine and flowers and them both, of course. The message on the inside of the card can be something like "Happy birthday to a happy teacher" and have a picture of them both smiling, or maybe "hap-bee birthday" and draw a pot of honey. She could surely find glitter for it, too.

"Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death." Miss Honey's voice cracks on the last word, but she manages to keep herself calm. She knew the little girl would ask once she heard what Mrs. Phelps said, and had been fighting to stay okay ever since.

"Oh." Matilda is surprised. She knows that she ought to respect her teacher's privacy, but she can't help herself. She cares too much about Miss Honey to let it go and dismiss her curiosity. She compromises on a gentle, "What happened to him?"

Miss Honey doesn't have the heart to lie or shut down her student's inquiries. And, honestly, she wants to talk about it to Matilda. She realizes she's barely even vocalized any thoughts about her father to anyone. "He… He passed away, when I was almost six."

Matilda's mind wonders to how her teacher grew up. Had her mother remarried? Or was it just Miss Honey and her mother, and idea that fascinates the little girl. Matilda fantasizes about what Miss Honey's mother was like; she pictures her with the same golden hair and soft disposition, and is so lost in painting this beautiful picture of Miss Honey's family that she almost walks by her own building. "This is it." Matilda suddenly states, stopping the duo and allowing Miss Honey to fully scan over the building. It's odd to the teacher that the girl lives in a building downtown and not in a quiet little home like she expected someone of Matilda's brilliance to come from. "Thanks for walking me home." Is the little girl's curt statement before she starts up the tall cement stairs.

"Oh," Miss Honey exclaims, mostly to stop the girl from leaving so quickly, "Let me walk you in. I'd love to meet your mother." Miss Honey imagines an older mother, several years older than herself, that will take a few moments to answer the door because she's baking cookies in the kitchen.

"She's not my mother." Matilda states—ubiquitously, to her teacher—but turns to open the door for them both anyway.

"I'm home." The little girl announces to the house, then waves her teacher in.

Miss Honey is thoroughly surprised to see a fairly large house, and that it is in a general state of uncleanliness not well suited for children, and suddenly her student's perpetual bed-head makes since. However poised and overall cleanly Matilda is—despite her messy hair—her family obviously does not share the same values.

"Finally!" A scratchy female voice calls as footsteps approach down the main hall. "Where have you been, you—" A disheveled mess turns the corner and sees the demure, straight-laced, and subtly beautiful young woman just in time to change her wordage, "darling gift from God." A cheeky, tight-lipped, eager smile follows as she eyes the younger woman, "I'm Colleen Hannigan, the child's mother." She reaches forward and grabs Miss Honey's hand to shake it, which the other woman doesn't have much other choice than to accept.

"Foster mother." Matilda mumbles just loud enough for the women to hear.

Miss Hannigan absentmindedly pushes the girl towards the stairs as her eyes are still locked on the visitor, "You are?"

"I'm Jennifer Honey," She tentatively retracts her hand, uncomfortable but remaining polite, "I'm Matilda's teacher."

Colleen Hannigan's smiles disappears. "We aren't open to visitors right now."

"Of course. I apologize for barging in, I was just—" Jennifer Honey was hoping to discuss her student's academic needs, and although the foster mom is less preferable, the teacher was attempting to make due before she's interrupted by the woman's arms around her, guiding her to the door.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Chutney, but it's so late, as you know. Darling Matilda has so many chores she must be doing…" The woman glares back at the girl, who had been watching from the center staircase and now scatters up them.

Miss Honey surprises even herself—especially herself—when she pushes the woman's arms from her and turns to face her directly. They are in close proximity, and the woman doesn't stop trying to eject the teacher from the house. "Miss Hannigan, I just wanted to speak to you about Matilda—"

Miss Hannigan ignores her, "Please do come by another time, though." She says as she cracks the front door open only slightly and guides the scrawny woman through, suddenly excommunicating Jenny to the front stoop.

Jenny has one more attempt in her, "Miss, I really think it's a good idea for—"

"Thanks for coming by." The woman scans down the teacher's body one last time before slamming the door, almost touching Jenny's face.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Jenny walks down the steps. On the side walk, she looks over the building one final time, committing its demeanor and location to memory as where Matilda lives. She catches sight of movement in one of the third floor windows and spots Matilda waving down at her. Remembering her purpose, Jenny waves back up at the girl. "I'll figure out your test." The teacher makes silent exaggerated syllables so her student can read her lips.

"Thank you." Matilda gives a tight-lipped smile and a goodbye wave.

Jenny is about to communicate back something encouraging or sweet that Matilda would appreciate, so that their day ends on a happy note, but she watches in helpless distress as an arm reaches the little girl and spins her around roughly. The curtain is swiftly pulled shut, leaving the teacher discomfited but unable to help. She walks home.