Ask Eva Read Online Free

Aretta. ‘It’s Nigerian. It means charming.’
    ‘Ella’s real name is Petronella,’ I said. ‘And we don’t even want to think about what that means.’
    What I’d said wasn’t very funny, but we all laughed – a forced laugh that went on for a few seconds too long.
    ‘Er, do you miss Nigeria?’ I asked. It was kind of a dumb question, but I was under pressure, and Ella was no help as she was pretending to be busy getting her history books in a perfect line.
    Aretta acted like my question wasn’t stupid at all.
    ‘I miss Nigeria occasionally,’ she said. ‘But I left a long time ago, when I was very young. Sometimes it hardly feels real – like I only dreamed of my old life in Africa.’
    ‘So have you really been in Ireland for eight and a half years, like you told theteacher?’ I asked.
    Aretta nodded.
    ‘So where’ve you been all this time?’ asked Ella. ‘How come we’ve never seen you before? Did you go to a different school?’
    ‘We used to live in Kilkenny. We only moved here last week.’
    I wanted to ask why she had moved, but thought it might sound a bit rude. Now I didn’t know what to say. This was turning out to be totally awkward. At the back of the class there was a big crash as someone dropped a book, and as Aretta turned her head, her braids clinked together.
    ‘I love your braids,’ I said. ‘They’re really cool – and it must be great not having to comb your hair every morning.’
    ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘When I was little, my mum always braided my hair for me, and now I keep it like this, to remind me of her.’
    Now I really, really didn’t know what to say.
    Why didn’t Aretta’s mum braid her hair anymore?
    Why did Aretta need to be reminded of her?
    I could feel my face going red. I desperately wanted to change the subject, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.
    ‘She stayed in Nigeria,’ said Aretta then. ‘My mum, I mean. Her parents are very old, and she has to take care of them. So I came here with my dad and my brother.’
    I tried to imagine a life where my dad would take me half-way across the world, leaving my mum behind – but I couldn’t.
    ‘Dad moved here for me,’ said Aretta. ‘For me and my brother. Because of my dad’s political beliefs, we were always going to have problems in Nigeria.’
    My face was still red, but I was relieved to see that Aretta didn’t look like she was going to burst into tears.
    ‘That’s sad,’ said Ella, suddenly looking up.
    ‘You must miss your mum.’
    ‘I do,’ said Aretta. ‘Every day. There’s a computer where I live, and sometimes I Skype my mum. Sometimes, when she smiles at me, I can nearly forget that she’s so far away. Sometimes I want to reach out and touch her, but of course that’s impossible.’
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, and then, even though it was probably a bit cowardly, I changed the subject.
    ‘Does your brother go to this school too?’ I asked.
    Aretta shook her head. ‘No. He’s eighteen, and he finished school last year. He mostly lives in Dublin – he has a girlfriend there.’
    I know Dublin isn’t a million miles away, but it’s not exactly next door either. It’s not like Aretta could hang out with her brother any time she liked. It had to be rotten for her, being so far away from half of her family.
    ‘Hey,’ I said then. ‘Ella and I are going intotown for a bit later. Do you want to come with us?’
    ‘Thanks,’ said Aretta. ‘But I can’t. I’ve got a piano lesson straight after school.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said, not sure why I felt so disappointed. ‘Maybe we can do something tomorrow instead?’
    Aretta smiled, but her smile wasn’t as bright as before.
    ‘Maybe,’ she said, and before anyone could say anything else, the teacher walked into the classroom, and we had to endure an hour of totally boring discussion on the history of farm machinery – like anyone cared!

Chapter Six
    T he next day was Friday. Aretta wasn’t in any of our morning