IVACY HIGH #1
Eva's 'perfect' life is disrupted when she's adopted and thrusted rather unexpectedly and quite irrevocably into a whole new world where she encounters new friends, strange lifestyles, catastrophic situations, a dysfunctional sibling...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
EVA
I smiled, pulling the heavy textbooks tighter against my side as I turned to the boy. I nodded. I didn't hear what he said, and he probably might not have even uttered a word, but that didn't matter. His lips were moving, I was wearing a smile, the sun was up and shining, it was a beautiful day, we both looked spectacular in our uniforms, our hairs were at their best and everyone was doing their thing.
What could possibly go wrong?
"Jesus. This is not a movie. Say something. Why are you mouthing words? Speak!" the photographer yelled at us and once again, my smile collapsed.
My cheeks hurt like hell from all the smiling I'd been doing. The boy —who was in the same class as me— and I shared exasperated looks before turning to the photographer who looked just as tired as we were. He was tired? What reason did he have to be? We were the ones doing the actual work and not to mention, being yelled at under the scorching sun.
We drew closer to the photographer so we could hear whatever words of encouragement he had to throw at us now. This would be the fourth. Every single time we had failed to portray the right looks or emotions, he'd wave us over and diss out not-so-helpful words to gear us up. Newsflash, they did not.
Who knew making an advertisement for a school could be this stressful? When Mrs Oguemuno set the date for today, I'd envisioned the whole process happening in less than an hour. This was our second hour of standing in the huge school field and to be honest, it was shameful to admit we had made zero progress.
He had his hands on his waist, standing akimbo, with a sour lour when we got to him.
"What's your name? " he snapped his fingers at the boy.
"Uh... " the boy's eyes darted to mine in confusion, "Damilare. "
The photographer leveled a stern look on him. "Okay, Damilare. I know there's not going to be sound in this video —from you guys anyway, but you still have to talk to give it that 'real' impression. " he gestured, "Don't just mouth the words okay? It's really obvious that you aren't saying anything. "
I didn't see the point in uttering words when the video sound was obviously going to be killed in the end, but I didn't point that out.
He turned to me, "And Miss, please make some effort to look interested. You looked too stiff. "
Stiff?
He flung his hands in exasperation, "Why do you guys make it look like we're forcing you? " Damilare and I shared a look, then he let out a snort. "Okay, yes. You probably don't want to be doing this, but it's a privilege and you'll get to see that with time. "
A privilege should never be this stressful.
"Now, both of you, go back there and make things easier for all of us. "
