A Whisper To A Scream (6 page)

As I remove a piece of paper from my folder,
I check out today’s group of detainees. Wow. We have a quiet bunch
today. Everybody is either started on homework or working on the
words they have to write down. Usually, I spend less time writing
and more time being entertained by some the kids who are here as
much as me.

Nick Wagner, the school pyro, who always
tries to set the trashcans in art on fire, shoots spitballs on to
the ceiling and they fall on random students. And Maggie Carson
spray paints graffiti on the walls in the girls’ locker room turns
her iPod up as loud as the device can go and everyone is forced to
listen to whatever she’s listening to. Neither one of them is in
detention today. I appreciate it. Today the silence feels like a
gift.

Mrs. Rochier, the dowdy awkward French
Teacher is on watch duty. I stare at her frizzy brown hair and get
lost in a daze. I think about Adam. The chilly tone in his voice
today. How he frightens me and fascinates me at the same time. And
how awkward the party is going to be tonight. It’s clear he and I
aren’t exactly fond of each other. Mentally I curse myself for
agreeing to go this party in the first place. I drop my head and
the white from my paper blurs in my peripheral vision. Adam Jacobs,
thoughts involving him circulate through my brain.

I’m not sure how long I stay that way, but
before I know it, Mrs. Rocher is standing. “Hand your papers in,”
she announces.

I waltz up to her desk and place my paper in
front of her. “Have a good weekend, Ellory,” she tells me.

I give her a fake grin. “Thanks.” Then I zip
out the door.

After going to my locker, I take my time
walking to the exit. I keep trying to think of lies I can come up
with to try and get myself out of going to this party. What if I
say I’m sick? I disagree with myself. Wren knows that whether I’m
sick or not, I’m always down to party. No. I have to go. If I bail
Wren will kill me. She’s such loyal and loving friend. Generous
too. Me, I’m selfish. For once, I’m not going to think about
myself.

A sudden noise rips me from my thoughts.
Wait, no. Not a sudden noise. Its music, haunting, beautiful music.
Moonlight Sonata to be exact.

Outside the music room I close my eyes and
listen as someone gently pounds on the ivory piano keys. The melody
throbs in my ears and for a moment I think of my father. He loves
classical music. He used to tell me one must appreciate the
classics because that’s where music began.

I lean further into the doorway and gasp when
I see the back of Adam. I gasp, back away from the door and tip toe
down the hall. The music stops and feet plod against the floor.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

The footsteps cut out and I know he’s behind
me. “Hey!”

I turn slowly. “What?”

He takes in the entire hall, and then glares
at me. “Were you watching me?”

Oh no. I’m nervous and flustered, unsure of
how to act. I scoff, putting up a cold front. “Why would I be
watching you?”

Then I sprint down the hall and leave him
staring at my back.

Chapter 6: A Close Encounter

The second I walk through the door, a
repetitive tapping sound lingers in the air. I toss my book bag on
the counter. Mom stands at the island, chopping something on the
cutting board. Tiny pieces of green fly, bouncing of the cutting
board. Cucumbers.

I lean against the counter and watch as Mom
places the diced up cucumbers in a thick glass bowl. “What are
those for?”

“Cucumber salad.” Mom doesn’t look up. She
continues chopping.

I roll my eyes. “Yum.”

Pushing myself away from the counter, I walk
to the edge of the room.

“I thought you and I could watch a movie
later,” Mom says.

“I have plans.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t,” she says, finality in her
tone. “You’re grounded.”

Whoa. Whoa. She never said anything about me
being grounded yesterday. “Where and when were you going to tell me
about this?” This isn’t fair.

She cocks her head to the side and taps her
finger on her chin. “Right now. Because I just decided.”

“Mom! What the hell?”

She lowers her head and narrows her eyes.
“Ellory.”

This can’t be happening. I’d promised Wren
I’d go the party. She’s going to be so pissed at me when I have to
call her and cancel. I have to get out of this. So I try reverse
psychology. “Well, if I’m grounded I guess that means I can’t show
Adam around tomorrow.”

She starts dicing the already chopped up
cucumbers. “Yes you can. I’ll make an exception for that.”

“Are you high?” The question comes out half
scream half squeak.

“You keep that attitude up and you’re going
to be grounded next weekend too. Is that what you want?”

I hang my head, defeated. “No.” If I don’t
play it cool, this squabble is going to explode into a huge
argument and I might be grounded for the rest of my life.

Come on Ells, I tell myself. Come up with
something. Then as I whip out my cell from my back pocket, I get a
genius idea. I send Wren a text.

I’ll meet U at the pty.

I’m going to that party. Grounded or not.

****

After dinner, and sitting through Mom’s movie
pick, ‘Fried Green Tomatoes’, I rest against her doorframe and
watch her chest rise up and down. She’s finally dozed off and that
means I can make a clean break.

In my room, I get dressed quickly. Spritz
some spray gel in my hair and scrunch the curly mess. Then I put on
the minimal amount of makeup I wear. Mascara. Concealer. And clear
lip gloss. I don’t like to wear a lot of make-up. If you’re decent
looking, you’re decent looking. Who needs all of that caked on
crap? Spinning in front of the mirror, I give myself the once
over.

A second later I slip on a t-shirt and crawl
out the window.

I hit the ground with a thud. Rubbing my hip,
I wince and get to my feet. I’d been sneaking out for year. I’m
surprised I haven’t mastered my methods by now. Scanning the
ground, I find a short, thick twig and prop the window open with
it. Then I take off, sprinting toward Adam’s house.

Mid-sprint, I text Wren again.

Come outside. I’ll B there in a sec.

Feeling winded, I take a break. I’m panting,
gasping for air and clutching my ribcage. God. For someone my age,
I should be in much better shape.

Straightening myself out, a clear picture of
the house comes into view. And the sight of it leaves me in awe.
Glowing landscape lights line the walkway. All of the decayed
columns have been rebuilt. A thick coat of white paint has been
applied to the siding. A cast iron fence surrounds newly planted
shrubbery. I’m baffled. I’ve almost got myself convinced that this
can’t be the same house I remember. Because this house looks like
it has been featured in a
Better Homes and Gardens
article.

Jogging forward, I spot Wren at the edge of
the porch with Molly. “Hey!”

They spin around and Wren gives me an odd
look. “What are you doing?”

Bending over, I put head in between my legs.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask in between breaths. “I
was running.” I hold up my finger. “Give me a second.”

“Yeah, but why were you running?” Molly
inquires.

“My Mom grounded me. I had to sneak out.” I
place both of my hands on my tailbone and arch my back. My
breathing finally returns to normal.

“What?” Wren shrieks. “What if you get
caught?”

I stroll toward her and wrap my arm around
her shoulder. “Relax, Wren. I won’t. I’m good at being rebellious
remember.”

She shakes her head and Molly backs away from
us. “Later guys.”

“Where are you going? I just got here.”

Molly squares her shoulders. “Sorry Ells,
I’ve stayed as long as I can stand it. Too loud. Too many
people.”

I face Wren. “Wren?”

“I haven’t gone in yet. I was waiting for
you.”

Molly walks away from us and down the
driveway, waving over her shoulder.

I release Wren. “Come on. Let’s go enjoy the
party.” There’s no way in hell I’m going to pass up free beer.

Inside, loud music pumps from amplified
speakers and I swear the house is shaking. A clear spot in the
living room serves as a dance floor and couples gyrate back and
forth bumping and grinding against each other. I spot Adam
immediately and look away as Katie slides up against him. He’s the
pole and she’s the exotic dancer. Watching them makes me
nauseous.

Squeezing Wren’s hand, I shove my way through
the mass of people. I’m pretty sure the entire school is here.
Someone accidentally slaps my face and I push hard, knocking people
out of the way. Another person touches my shoulder. I look back at
Wren and raise my eyebrows.

She shakes her head indicating that it wasn’t
her. She dips her head to the left. I turn my head and we come to a
stop. Blake. Ugh. I don’t really want to deal with right now. He
lifts his chin, wearing a cocky grin. “What’s up, Ells?”

“Hey Blake!” I shout over the music. “Where’s
your girlfriend?” I wish she was here. Then he wouldn’t be talking
to me.

He leans in close to my face. “You wanna go
somewhere private?” His strong beer breath wafts up my nostrils. I
twist my head and suck in clear air. I have to get out of this. I
need to get away from him. Wearing a fake smile, I place a finger
on his lips and mouth, “Maybe later.”

A smirk of satisfaction curls on his lips and
he nods. Wren and I slip back into the crowd. Too bad I don’t
intend on living up to my end of the bargain.

Minutes pass and Wren and I have circled the
interior of the house three times. My eyes focus on the cups people
are holding. Where is everyone getting the beer from? Wren pulls
her hand away when we’re in front of the wide staircase. “Wait
here,” I tell her.

She nods lightly and takes a seat on the
step.

I come to a halt in to kitchen accidentally
bumping into someone and watch as their beer spills on their shoes.
I shrug. “Sorry.”

They don’t seem too happy or forgiving.

Loud chanting rings out and drowns out the
sound of the crappy rap song that’s booming from the stereo. I know
what that chanting means. Keg stands. I sigh in frustration as Josh
Turner; the captain of the football team lifts another muscular
player up and grips his shins. Then the counting begins.

I’m not the type to bail on a party, but this
one is a bust. They’re going to drain that keg in an hour. Pushing
my way back through the crowd, I stop in front of the stairs. Wren
isn’t there. Where did she go?

Climbing half-way up the staircase. I search
for her in the crowd. There are too many people. I don’t see her
anywhere. My attention averts to the upstairs. Maybe there’s some
alcohol stashed somewhere up there. It can’t hurt to look.

Taking two steps at a time, I dash up the
stairs and begin looking. I open the first door to my right and
switch the light on. Nope a bathroom. I slide to my left and open
another door. I flip the light on. Violet walls and a frilly hot
pink bedspread. Porcelain dolls on the dressers and toy box in the
corner, with toys heaping over the sides. No again. I come to a
third door and whip it open. Flicking the light on, a devious smirk
takes over my face. No alcohol. I found something better. Adam’s
bedroom.

The walls are painted a deep, cool dark blue
that accent the cherry wood trim. The room is so neat and tidy.
Noticing how organized it is makes me feel like I’m living on an
episode of Hoarders.

Posters of bands similar to the ones I have
hanging in my room adorn the walls. We may have nothing else in
common, but at least we have the same taste in music. Just below
the band posters are paintings. Hand-painted paintings. They remind
of some I’d seen in Cleveland hanging in the window of a fancy art
gallery with a price tag of fifty thousand dollars. I’m so absorbed
in my surroundings I tune out all the noise coming from downstairs.
Brushing my fingers against the glass casing of one of the
paintings I’m stunned by its beauty. The paint splatters in red and
blue when mixed together are similar to the sky setting at
dusk.

A creak from the door startles me. I jump and
spin around. Adam glares at me, agitated. “What are you doing in my
room?”

I try to play it off cool as I slide toward
him. “Oh. This is your room.”

He scowls. “The upstairs is off limits.”

“Thanks for the memo.” My eyes center on the
two red cups in his hand. Jackpot. Before he can answer me I snatch
the cups from his hand. “Thanks again,” I say, taking a slip from
one of the cups.

“What the hell are you doing?” There’s a
gruff, raspy tone to his voice.

I quirk an evil grin. “Enjoying my beer.”

“Those were mine.”

My gaze shifts between him and the cups.
“Both cups?”

“No. One is Katie’s.”

His arm is resting against the door frame and
I slip underneath it, into the hall. “Well, it’s your house get her
another one.” At the staircase, I hesitate. “FYI. If you want to
get into her pants, I’m pretty sure you don’t need beer to do it.
Katie has an all-night open access pass.”

Adam scoffs. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Tired of what?”

“Of being this big of a bitch.”

I squint, thinking it over. “Nope. It’s
something that comes naturally to me.” Tipping my cup, I start down
the stairs and shout, “Great party!” I feel his eyes scorching my
back the entire way down.

I’ve passed through everyone room twice and I
can’t find Wren anywhere. God. Where is she? I’ve tried calling her
cell. I’ve tried texting and she hasn’t responded. I stop in the
kitchen and pull my phone out again. I’m just about to text her
when through the french doors in the back of the kitchen; I see
golden blond hair shimmering underneath the back porch light.