The next day, Momma woke me up by throwing a plastic bottle full of something tan at my forehead. "Put this on your face, Eden. And keep your hair down."

I groaned and used most of my strength to sit up. Momma didn't go easy on me when she hit me. At all. I could remember every hurtful thing she said. She mocked Mrs. Winters the entire beating. Her voice was scary when she was mad and her belt slapped mercilessly against my backside.

Your daughter is so perfect. Ha-ha-ha. She must not know a thing about you! Why would she come over if not to brag that my life sucks and hers was awesome! You are the only reason our life is awful. Did you tell her how I beat you, Eden? Huh? Nobody in their right mind would want to be anywhere near you unless they're trying to be high and mighty church folks or the hero of a tiny mute girl. What did I tell you about having friends? Are you trying to get me in trouble, you bitch? And what does she mean her boys like to play with you? I knew it! You're already selling yourself, aren't you? That's the only reason she wants to keep you around.

Momma never cared if I cried while she was beating me. In fact, when I cried, she hit me harder. I remembered tears dripped from my face like a flood and I could feel each slap on my body in the back of my throat.

I dressed in a long-sleeve, blue dress that stopped above my knees. It had three holes in it, but I loved the color and it made me feel pretty. My white tights covered most of the bruises, but I could still see the particularly bad ones through the thin fabric. I finished my outfit with my scuffed, black Mary Janes.

I didn't know how to use the plastic bottle of tan liquid so I poured some in my hands and wiped it over my entire face. In the mirror, my face looked very orange, but my bruise was covered and I think that's what Momma wanted. I brushed through my hair and left it down like Momma asked me to.

I walked upstairs and into the living room where my family sat on the couch watching television with the bottle still in my hand. Momma looked over her shoulder and scrutinized my face before almost falling off this couch in laughter. "What the hell did you do to your face? You look like a freaking Dorito! Come here, I gotta figure out how to fix your stupid face."

Momma grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom, forcefully wiping my face with a towel. She poured a little bit of the tan liquid into her hand and tapped the stuff directly on my bruise. I winced repeatedly, feeling the sore bruise protest.

"That color isn't right. Just go to school and stare at the ground or something. If anyone asks, you tripped and fell into a counter or something. Oh, wait! You don't fucking talk." Momma belted out and ugly giggle and grabbed my cheeks in her hand. "Don't mess up today. Remember, if people see your bruises they'll think you're ugly and gross. You go to that bitch's house and act like a perfect child." I nodded, afraid to anger her.

When Mrs. Winters picked me up from my front yard, I hid my bruised face with my hair. Noah and the other boys sat in their regular spots and I sat next to Noah and Isaiah. The second I got my seatbelt on, Noah reached for my hand and squeezed.

I looked at our joined hands and realized how clean Noah's were. My hands were extremely dirty compared to his. I felt embarrassed. I tried to wipe my free hand on my dress, attempting to clean it.

"Eden, sweetheart, so good to see you this morning! Your dress is very pretty." Mrs. Winters always said the sweetest things. I wished she was the mommy I had gotten. I nodded, trying to say thank you while keeping my head down as each of the boys said some form of good morning.

When most of the boys were dropped off, I still hadn't lifted my head or looked at Noah. We climbed out of the suburban after he and I hugged his mom.

In the hallway, Noah lifted his free hand and tried to put a strand of hair behind my ear so he could see my face. I shook my head, causing the strand to fall back into place.

"Edith, I can't see your face. My mom said it's super rude to not look into someone's eyes when they are trying to talk to you!" I didn't want to be rude so I looked up and into his eyes. Noah gasped too loud, obviously seeing the discoloration on my face- he always knew when something was wrong- and I put my finger to his lips begging him to not tell anyone.

Noah shook his head vehemently. "Edith, what's wrong with your face?" He wiped where the color of my face turned orange and it came off on his fingers.

I'd imagine what remained was a very angry bruise because Noah's eyebrows fell dangerously into a scowl. "Edie, what's that? Is that a bruise?" I barely nodded my head, hoping he wouldn't see.

"Did you hurt yourself? Ezekiel looked like that once when he got into a fight! Did you get into a fight?" I shook my head. "Well, then why do you have a bruise?" I shook my head begging him to let it go.

He shook his head and sighed, his cheeks had become red and blotchy. "Well when I get bruises, my mom gives me ice. I'll go get you some ice from the nurse. Don't worry, I'll tell her you hit your head on accident." He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the nurse's office and barged in, yelling for help with the dramatic flair Noah possessed. After I'd been given an ice pack, we went to class.

My teacher saw my bruise right as I walked in. Her eyebrows drifted into a worried frown and she bent down to my height and grabbed my hand. "Eden, honey, what happened to your face?" Of course, I didn't tell her. Noah said I ran into a wall, but I think she knew better. I wondered why she wouldn't tell someone that could help me.

The day went by and I only got picked on at recess. Katie didn't like my dress and ripped one of the holes bigger. I wasn't really all that upset, but Noah yelled louder than ever, screaming that Katie was an ugly kangaroo and nobody liked her.

Our teacher sent him to the office for that.

I cried because I was the one who should have gone to the office. It was my fault Katie didn't like my dress and it was my fault Noah yelled at her. Noah seemed to go gladly as if he was proud he stuck up to my bully. Katie was a lot better than my mommy. I hoped Noah never tried to stick up to her.