My Eyes Are Open
Chapter Ten
Miss Honey glances at her watch. "Oh, Matilda, we need to go." She says with urgency, standing from behind her desk. Matilda closes her book to trail behind her teacher as Miss Honey relays instructions for the rest of the class and hands a folded sheet of paper to Hortensia. "Amanda, would you lead the class in putting the answers on the board? Hortensia, the correct answers are on that paper. Don't open them until after all the answers are on the board and fully discussed. I will be back in a few minutes. If I'm not back before the lunch bell rings, just go on and I'll be there to escort you all back from recess." She's reached the door, and decides to acknowledge what happened earlier. "Thanks for being on your best behavior earlier, I'll be back soon." With the closing of her classroom door, Miss Honey feels guilty about not being able to give her students the attention they deserve. It's usually so important of a goal to her, but now all she can think about is Matilda. She has made a mistake in how to deal with the Trunchbull—she should have found another way, though she knows deep down there was none—and now her student, this special little girl, this miracle, must pay for it. Miss Honey knows she must right her wrong and help Matilda get on the right track that this placement test will provide, before she can return her attention and energy to her class.
When they enter the bathroom, Miss Honey warily looks to the sink and mirror again before turning to Matilda. "You should try to go." She nods towards the stalls.
"But I—"
This isn't a debate to Miss Honey. "Just try."
Perplexed but obedient, Matilda slips into a stall only to exit a moment later, bladder one hundred percent empty. "Thank you." Is all the teacher can force herself to say about the situation.
Matilda sits on the sink counter as Miss Honey wets her hands with the cool water from the nozzle. If Matilda was actually in the Chokey this whole time, there is no way she wouldn't be sweaty and disheveled. Thanks to the girl's characteristic knotty hair, her teacher only runs her fingers over parts to make the girl look sticky from the Chokey's humidity. They also wet various parts of the girl's dress, but most of the sell is going to come from Matilda. If they time it right, the girl will only be in the torture cupboard for a minute or two and will have to act distressed when released by the Trunchbull to be convincing that she was there the whole time.
"How am I supposed to act when Miss Trunchbull opens the door?" Matilda inquires.
And there's no time for Miss Honey to carefully figure her words the best way to say what she needs, the description just falls from her mouth as the teacher ushers her student down the hallway. "The air inside is stuffy, so when the door opens the fresh air will hit you like a wall of relief. Take several deep breaths and blink a lot, because the light would hurt your eyes. Don't immediately try to step out, she'll most likely grab you and pull you out. When she does, fall straight to the floor and don't say anything—you might say the wrong thing and set off another incident. If she's still angry, she might try to hurt you, so it's best to get away from her fists, if you can."
"And if she doesn't pull me out?" Matilda sounds worried.
The teacher doesn't have time to comfort her or explain everything to her. "Then that's really bad. She's not planning on letting you out." Miss Honey wracks her mind for what she ought to tell the girl to do, in case it happens. "Just in case it does though-but it won't-go back in and wait till the lock clicks—that's important—then start shouting. I'll be listening outside the door and get you out, I promise. But let's hope it doesn't get to that." She tries to give the child a comforting smile, but it comes out more as a grimace.
"It sounds like you sure do know a lot about the Chokey, Miss Honey." Matilda states, observing her teacher carefully.
"I've been here a long time, Matilda." She says quietly, almost under her breath. Matilda bets her teacher has seen many students go through the Chokey in her time teaching at Crunchem Hall, and knows her teacher would never put in her in a situation that would be deadly—no matter the consequences—, which is somehow comforting to the girl. It proves that Miss Honey knows what she is talking about, and that she'll survive this, despite how scared they both are.
They finally reach the headmistress' office, and judging by the fact that no deep, menacing voices have charged through the primary school demanding Miss Honey produce the girl, she's not currently in there. But they know she will be soon. Today is meatloaf day for children in the older grades who share the cafeteria during first lunch period. Miss Trunchbull loves meatloaf, and will probably eat two or three servings of it, but she eats quickly—if you can call shoving food down your throat without chewing 'eating'—and is certain to finish long before the bell for the younger children's lunch rings.
The pair slip in the door and Miss Honey makes sure the hall is clear before shutting it behind them. As the young woman guides Matilda to the locked cupboard door, it briefly crosses her to wonder how Miss Trunchbull's cruelty really began. Maybe it's possible that a younger Aunt Agatha was forced to inflict pain or sorrow on someone else, and her aunt liked the feeling of it. Holding someone's life in their hands is blissfully intoxicating to the Trunchbull; she loves the power, the control of it. Jenny's known this since she was a child.
Jenny knew she was in big trouble the moment she looks up to find Miss Phelps standing in front of her table in the corner of the poetry section. "Jenny, the library is closing now. It's pretty late, shouldn't you be getting home?"
Jenny knows full and well that the public library closes at 7pm, a hour and a half after she's supposed to be home. Aunt Trunchbull is going to kill her.
The girl jumps to her feet and begins frantically shoving her school work in her backpack. She's made a huge mistake, cursing herself for being so careless. She'll be lucky if her Aunt ever lets her visit the library ever again. And she had just been entrusted to get herself home after school, on time, though Jenny knows her aunt was really just tired of having to stop and get her every afternoon.
Miss Phelps absent-mindedly hands the young girl a book from the corner of the desk she'd have difficulty reaching, but she's more perplexed by the normally constrained and timid girl's wild behavior. Miss Phelps has only recently been seeing the girl leave the library by herself, at 5:15pm every day, except for this evening. She wonders why any adult-even one as fearsome as the Agatha Trunchbull-would let a child of seven years old walk home alone this late.
"Why don't you let me drive you home, Jenny. I know you live nearby." The librarian suggests.
Jenny has finished packing her bag and slides it on to her shoulders as she eyes the woman warily. "No thank you, Miss Phelps. I can manage. As you said, I live nearby." She tries to push past, but is blocked by the librarian leaned down to her eye level.
"I insist, Jenny. It's too dark for me to let you walk by yourself in good conscience. And I'm sure your aunt would be very upset with both of us if something happened to you, God forbid."
Jenny is extremely uneasy, but nods in acceptance. Miss Phelps has been nothing but kind to the girl, especially since her father died, with bringing her treats and providing assistance whenever the girl asks, but she doesn't understand that something will happen to her when she gets home. But, to satisfy the woman, she waits as the librarian locks the big doors and follows her to the only car in the parking lot beside the building.
"So," Miss Phelps starts as she turns the key to the ignition, "What kept you in so late today?"
"I got caught up in my book and lost track of time." Jenny mumbles as she runs her fingers over the lining to the seats. It's been so long since the girl has been in a car.
"Oh, I see. Happens to me all the time." This elicits a smile from Jenny. "What book are you reading?"
"One of the books you pulled for me. The Awakening. I like it a lot so far." Jenny stares out the window, amazed at how fast the trees fly past.
Miss Phelps smiles. This is the first time the girl has ever expressed opinion without it being painfully extracted from her. The fact that Jenny is enjoying the book she picked out is just icing on the cake. Miss Phelps is making progress with the girl.
The librarian takes a right onto a small dirt road that she knows will lead to the Honey Mansion. "Have you been to my house before?" Jenny asks, frowning, after she realizes she forgot to tell the woman to turn, having been lost in wondering what Edna Pontellier—her current book's heroine—would think of being in a car.
"Yes, child. When your mother was pregnant, I would bring over books so she wouldn't be bored, stuck in the house all day."
Jenny's eyes light up, "You knew my mother?"
"Oh yes, Jenny. And your father, very well, actually. After your mother passed away in that horrible accident and then you were born, I brought over meals for you two. When your father went to work when you were two or three, I usually watched you until you were almost four, I think. But you were so young, it makes sense that you don't remember." Miss Phelps informs her.
"I don't remember." Jenny says, pensively, before a question strikes her mind, "Why did you stop?"
Miss Phelps tries to conceal her emotions, "Your aunt moved in."
Despite her mourning over what could have been if the librarian had raised her after her father died instead of her aunt, Jenny feels the revelation opening a whole new part of her heritage, a connection to her parents and a time in her life when things were better. She has a million questions; she wants to know all about her mother and how close of a family friend Miss Phelps was and everything. But they've arrived at Jenny's house, where Aunt Trunchbull stands in front of the steps, expectant, and the life instantly drains from Jenny's body.
"Why don't you let me walk you in so that your aunt and I can get caught up?" Miss Phelps shifts the car into the parked gear.
Fear replaces dread, Jenny's two most frequent emotions that just alternate with each other. The girl knows that there will be no 'catching up' with her aunt, now nor later. Before the librarian can move to exit her door, Jenny slings her's open and jumps out. She tries to hide her expression with a grin, that comes out as a nervous grimace. "Sorry, but I really must be going. Thank you very much for the ride home. See you soon." And the girl promptly shuts the door.
Her homework-filled backpack makes her posture difficult to keep straight already, but she can't help slumping as her aunt stalks toward her with her typical, stern frown. Aunt Trunchbull grabs the girl's shoulder, not outwardly aggressive, but firm and tight. Jenny imagines the curt wave of acknowledgement her aunt gives Miss Phelps over her back, before shifting the girl in front of her and escorting her to the front door.
When they get to the door, Aunt Trunchbull opens the door and throws Jenny in. The girl lands in a heap on the front rug and startles when her aunt slams the door shut—then locks the door with a key that she slips into a small pocket—and looms over her. Where in the hell were you?" Her aunt charges towards her.
Jenny, terrified and panicked, scoots herself backwards in attempt to keep the distance between herself and her aunt. Aunt Trunchbull easily closes the space in a stride or two and has cornered her niece against the bottom of the stairs. The girl realizes she hasn't answered yet, further infuriating her aunt, and only gapes up as she cowers against the bottom step. "Well?" Her aunt screams in her face.
"I-I was at-t the library." Jenny whispers, tears already streaming down her face.
Miss Trunchbull picks the girl up by her lanky arms and shoves her towards the hallway, deeper into the house. "And why were you at the bloody library, Jen? You think you are so smart because you can read a few books?"
Jenny can only focus on the pointed question, and ignores the insult. "I finished up my homework, Aunt Trunchbull, and then I was reading my book when I lost track of time—"
"You stupid little girl. You mess up everything! At least now I know that you may not be trusted, you are weak and unintelligent, obviously. Your old punishments are not enough, clearly, I will have to think of some new ways to get it through your mind how to behave correctly." The Trunchbull stands before the girl, her hands militantly grasped behind her back.
If Jenny's poor little heart wasn't already beating fast enough, it certainly was now. She feels her rapid pulse in her ears as the rest of her heat drains from her body. "Oh, no, Aunt Trunchbull. I don't—"
Miss Trunchbull slaps the girl abruptly. "Little children are meant to be seen, not heard. So be quiet." She starts to circle the little girl, as a bird circles its prey. "How did you manage to conjure Phelps into driving you home, you nasty, lazy worm."
"She offered." Jenny assumes her defensive position, which includes her standing very still and staring at her feet and only answering questions directly asked.
"I sincerely doubt that. Why would anyone want to associate with such an ugly little cheat like you?" The aunt pauses, as she's hit with an epiphany. "Unless… Unless you lied to her. You tried to make her feel sympathy for your stupidity."
The little girl's jaw drops and she has to fight to breathe. "No, I didn't!"
"What did you tell her?" The Trunchbull's large hands are around Jenny's throat and holding her against the wall of the stairway.
Jenny's little hands try to pull her aunt's away from her throat, but she knows its ultimately useless. She's useless even in trying to keep herself alive. "Nothing! I promise! I PROMISE!" Miss Trunchbull knows that her niece knows better than to try to lie to her, so she seems to believe the screaming little girl and drops her. Jenny collapses to a heap on the ground, a sniveling mess. This makes Aunt Trunchbull laugh a deep, belly laugh.
The little girl looks up at her aunt through tear-filled eyes, wondering what she did to deserve this treatment. Though she never knew her mother, she misses her. She misses what Jenny imagines as a soft, tender touch that warms her body with affection. And she definitely misses Daddy, his big glasses and his comfy laps where she'd sit and read books with him. But they're both gone. Jenny is miserable, and alone. Well, except for this bully, this tyrant. "I hate you." Jenny whispers to her aunt.
She's surprised when her aunt stops laughing, but isn't afraid at first. In fact, she's emboldened by the first and only time that her words made her aunt quiet. "What did you just say?" The woman finally asks, voice low and dangerous and calm.
Jenny forces herself to her feet. "I said that I HATE you!" And, for a few seconds, her aunt just stares at her and Jenny feels proud of herself.
But those few seconds pass quickly, and The Trunchbull launches towards the little girl. Jenny manages to evade her aunt's grasp—one of the only advantages to her being so small and her aunt being so big—and makes a break towards the door. She runs as fast as she can, which isn't very fast, and yanks at the door knob only to find it dead-bolted with a key she doesn't have. She's dead.
Her little hand is still shaking the door knob, hoping somehow that it would miraculously just open and allow her escape, when The Trunchbull catches her. The woman grabs the wrist from the cool metal knob and twists back. The wet snap echoes through the large house before Jenny's screams follow it as she's thrown backward. The little girl lays on the floor where she cradles her left arm, which now hangs limp at an odd angle.
"Look at what you've done now, you bumbling idiot!" Aunt Trunchbull's voice booms, but it doesn't quiet cover Jenny's screams this time. "Stop screaming, fool!" The girl, blinded by pain, doesn't react. "Now you've done it." The woman kicks the girl in the ribs, just to elicit a reaction, which is just more screaming. Jenny passes out.