A Whisper To A Scream (10 page)

I frown. “Why not? She did.”

The thing is I know all kinds of secrets
involving Katie and her family. Being friends with someone for
seven years will give a person that advantage. I know her father
once had an illicit love affair with a bus driver named Brenda. I
also know that her father isn’t even her real father. Her mother
hooked up with a townie way back when and nine months later out
popped Katie.

Even though I know all of her deep, dark
secrets. I’ve never dreamed of saying anything to anyone. Bringing
a person’s family into a feud is a whole different level of
nastiness.

Katie doesn’t necessarily have to throw
physical punches to win a fight. I mean, let’s get real here, that
girl couldn’t throw a physical punch to save her life. What Katie
does is much worse. She throws verbal punches. Don’t get me wrong,
physical punches are painful. I’ve thrown some and been given some
in return, but verbal punches are ten times more painful than
physical punches. The pain stays with you, lingering, taunting you
long after the shiner on your face has healed. Verbal assaults are
like a slow suffocating death and sometimes they leave a bigger
dent on the inside—a dent in your soul.

After all, this was girl world. Nobody in
girl world fights fair. It’s a dirty, wicked, conniving game.
Whoever is left standing at the end without succumbing to their
torment your opponent causes is the winner. This is one of the key
reasons why Wren and Molly are my only girl friends. Also, because
you can’t trust girls like Katie, or Megan. They’ll be the first
ones to stab you in the back if they thought betrayal would advance
them farther.

I inhale, filling up my lungs. Then exhale.
I’ve calmed myself down and I’m ready to end this squabble. My eyes
shift to Adam. He’s staring at me, his eyes full of concern. “Are
you gonna be okay?” he asks, thoughtfully. I don’t answer. I just
shake my head; give Kate one last evil glare and walk away.

As I weave through the crowd, making my way
back to Wren, the sound of Katie clucking echoes through the thick,
fall air. She’s insinuating that I’m a chicken. I know she’s wrong.
The black and blue road map on her face also says otherwise. Come
Monday, I’ll take it even further. Come Monday, I’ll be airing out
all of Katie Halston’s dirty laundry and I’ll make that bitch wish
that she had never been born.

****

Wren goes off in search of the hot chocolate
booth while I wait for her at a picnic table across from the
elephant ear stand. The smell of cinnamon and fried dough wafts
toward me as I hold my head up in my hands. Despite the
intoxicating scent, I can’t even think about eating. Pain ripples
through me and tears at my organs. I wrap my hands around my
stomach. Even though I’m a mess inside, I don’t cry. Not now. Not
ever. I don’t think my tear ducts work.

The table creaks and shifts as Adam straddles
the seat across from me. “You know,” he starts, “She keeps
tormenting you because she knows that it gets to you.”

I stare at him with a blank expression. He’s
the last person I want to talk about my feelings with. “You know,
I’d really like to be left alone.” Being around Adam is like
sailing down the hill on a wooden rollercoaster. Sometimes the
weightless feeling bounces off the walls of your stomach, pushing
forward a rush of adrenaline. The rush excites you and delights
you. You want on that ride time and time again. But at the same
time, the ride makes you panic. You’re nauseous, unsure of whether
you should squeal or scream. He’s making me feel like that now and
I don’t want to deal with it.

“So,” he says not taking my hint. “What did
you mean when you said everything you thought was wrong about me
was right?” There’s an intrigued look dancing around in his teal
eyes.

“That you were what I expected you to be all
along,” I mutter, playing with my hands.

“And what’s that?”

“A red-blooded American douche-bag.”

He laughs. “Tell me how you really feel.”

He doesn’t get it. “I just did.” I wasn’t
joking.

His laughter dies down and as I lift my head
a serene look crosses over his features. “Do you want to talk about
it?”

“No.” What I want is for you to go away.

“Are you sure?” he probes me further.

“Yes. I’m positive.” For one thing, I’m not
interested in drudging up all the pains of my past and explaining
them to him. Two, I don’t know him well enough to trust him.
“Please just go away,” I say, exhausted. I’m hoping that after
getting shut down three times, something will finally click in that
genius brain of his.

He rises from the table, gives me a sullen
over his shoulder and disappears into the crowd. Wren comes up next
to me and sets down a Styrofoam cup. “One hot chocolate for you.”
She bumps me with her hip. “Scoot.” I slide over and she sits down.
“Was that Adam?”

“Unfortunately,” I say glumly.

“What did he want?”

I make quote marks with my fingers. “To
talk.”

Wren takes the lid off her hot chocolate and
blows on the heated drink. Steam rises from the top, and vanishes
into the air. “Well did you talk to him?” She takes a tiny, tester
sip from her cup.

I grasp my cup. The warmth from the beverage
radiates through the Styrofoam and heats up my hand. “For a minute
if that.”

Wren smiles, sweetly. “I think it was sweet
of him to check on you.”

“Whose side are you on?” I say
accusingly.

She tsks. “You know I’m on yours. I just
think you should give him a break.”

She says she’s on my side, but it sounds to
me like she’s taking his. “Why? He’s the one who showed up with the
ice queen.”

“I actually have to commend him.” She’s
definitely taking his side. “First, you slap him after he puts
himself out there, hinting that he has feelings for you. Now he
shows up with Katie and you’re totally taking this the wrong
way.”

I squint, confused. “Huh?”

Wren lets out a soft laugh and sighs. “Oh
Ells, you mess around with all these boys and you have yet to see
the big picture.”

My mouth drops open and I glare at her
incredulously. “Are you insinuating that I’m a slut?”

She slaps my hand. “No!” Then she nods toward
game booth. Adam stands there with Katie, but he’s staring at me
intensely. “He’s doing that to make you jealous. And guess what,
Ellory, it worked.”

I shake my head. “No. No way.”

Wren tilts her head to the side. “Yes way.
You were totally jealous.” She sets down her cup. “Think about it.
The whole time he’s been here with Katie, he’s been taunting you
with it. Always touching her when you’re looking. Staring at you
when he’s with her.”

He’s still staring at me. Our eyes lock and a
sinful smirk creeps across his lips. “Thanks for the observation,
Dr. Ruth.”

Wren’s right. Even when Adam looks away from
me, he’s not even paying attention to Katie. His eyes are getting
lost in the crowd. Katie spins around and tries to get his
attention and I look down at my hands. Part of the reason why I
couldn’t figure this out on my own is because I never let myself
get farther than second base with a guy. I don’t ever open myself
up. I’m perfectly content being their play thing.

We pass Adam on the way out. His perfect,
proportional almond-shaped eyes follow me the whole time. I feel
them on me even when I’m not looking at him. Something inside of me
clicks. A feeling of attachment. A gut feeling that tells me even
though I’m not speaking to him, Adam understands me.

I’ve heard there are times when a guy can
spot a girl he found attractive from across the room. Their eyes
meet and lock. Neither one of them needs words: their gaze tells
them everything they need to know. That’s what it’s like for Adam
and me. We don’t need words. One look and we know each other,
inside and out. That scares me. It scares me because I know that
deep down nothing else matters. Not my rebellious ways. My war with
Katie. Or even my painful past. Adam is the only thing that
matters.

On the outside, I may appear to be tough, but
on the inside I’m vulnerable, just like a lot of people. I block
out the part of me that allows me to feel. I numb myself using
internal Novocain. People who feel always get hurt. I think of my
Mom. She loved and gave her all to my father and what did she get?
Years of uncertainty and heartache. I’d asked her once if she
regretted the time she spent with Dad. I was stunned when she told
me no. She’d said that even though her relationship with Dad ended
badly, being in love was the greatest feeling in the world and
she’d want to experience it again in a second. I vaguely remember
telling myself that I’d never allow myself to be hurt like Mom.
Love is the murky uncharted waters of the ocean. An unknown
territory that I don’t want to tread across.

Wren’s car slings up pieces of gravel as she
turns around in my driveway. I walk through the garage and into the
kitchen. The house is dark, quiet, and empty. Mom has a booth
selling pumpkins at Fall Fest. I know she won’t be home until after
midnight.

Most of the time, I like the quiet. I like my
alone time—which is why I spend a good portion of my time holed up
in my room. But right now, the silence is getting to me. My
thoughts plague me. And all of my thoughts revolve around Adam.

I take a scalding hot shower, trying to burn
and cleanse the thoughts of Adam. I want them to disappear. I want
to erase them. Even though the hot water eliminates the residue on
the outside of me, there’s still a filthy longing on the inside.
I’m relaxed, yet tortured at the same time. Is there nothing that
will keep my mind off of him? Sadly, I know the answer is no. Adam
tortures me, but what’s even more sadistic is that I want him to. I
want him to keep torturing me until he drives me crazy. I never
want him to stop.

Deciding to turn in early is something I
haven’t done in a long time. I don’t bother flicking the light on
when I walk into to my room. I navigate through the darkness and
zoom in on the glowing red light from my alarm clock. It’s 9:30. As
I climb into bed I try to remember the last time I went to bed this
early. I’m pretty sure I was thirteen years old.

The quiet swallows me. I yawn and roll over,
curling into the fetal position. I can’t sleep. I’m restless. Soft
pinging cuts into the silence. I bolt upright as my eyes wander
through the darkness. I hold my breath and the pinging stops. A
loud gust of air leaves my lungs as I breathe and I hear the
pinging again. The sound reminds me of a person standing on a thin
sheet of ice. The weight adding pressure to the flimsy piece of
frozen precipitation. Seconds away from cracking. One slight move
and the person will plummet into the freezing cold water.

I stay as still as possible and suck in my
breath a second time. The pinging is coming from my window. During
the early stages of fall sometimes kids from down the road play
flashlight tag in my back yard. Mom and I don’t mind. I used to do
the same thing when I was little. “That’s enough guys!” I shout,
hoping the kids would take the hint. They don’t.

Finally, I stroll over to my window, pull
open the blinds, and freeze as Adam tosses a small pebble into the
glass. I don’t know what to do. Or what to say. I stand there for
second, just staring.

He walks closer. The moonlight beams down
from the heavens and illuminates his hauntingly beautiful features.
“Open the window,” he says. The sound of his voice is muffled.

I slide the window open and crouch down,
resting my chin on the windowsill. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing?” he asks playfully.
“It’s only 9:45.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired.” My stomach is
twisted into one giant knot. “What are you doing at my window?”

He looks up into the star-filled sky. “It’s a
beautiful night. I thought we could go for a moonlight stroll.”

A moonlight stroll. He wants me to go on a
moonlight stroll with him. Who is this guy? “I don’t think I
should. My Mom will be home soon.”

He smiles and his turquoise eyes sparkle in
the moonlight. “Aren’t you Ellory Graham?”

I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
“Yes.”

“The same Ellory Graham who punches girls in
the face, sneaks out for parties, and has mouth like a
trucker.”

“Yes. Yes. And Yes.”

“Well, get out here, we’ll be back before
your Mom gets home.”

“But I’m in my pajamas.”

He quirks me a grin. “Does it look like I
care?”

“No.”

Adam reaches for me. “Hold on,” I tell him.
Then I check my bedroom door to make sure it’s locked. Just in case
Mom comes home early.

I slide my torso out the window and He
cradles me in his arms once I’m out completely and then he dips me
forward and I plant my feet firmly into the earth. A strand of my
hair falls into my face. I blow on the spiral curl, and Adam tucks
it behind my ear. The tip of his finger lightly caresses my cheek
and a rush of heat fills me up. Consumes me.

A soft seductive smile curls on his lips and
I feel like I’ve swallowed a jar of bees. They’re buzzing around in
my stomach. Adam makes me nervous. When I first laid eyes on him, I
thought I’d loathe him for the rest of eternity. Now, I think I
like him. “Where are we going?” I ask as he laces his fingers
through mine.

My limbs tingle. I keep looking down at our
hands. Another smile. A smile so beautiful and so perfect, that a
flash of it makes me melt inside.

Adam guides me to a small slope in my
backyard. He lets go of my hand and I feel like I’ve been ripped in
half. I want him to touch me again. I want to feel heat surge
throughout my body. I want to go up in flames. He pats and empty
spot next to him. “Are you going to sit with me or what?”

I sit down gingerly. Even though I want
nothing more than to be covered by a blanket of his arms, I keep my
distance. There’s so much about Adam that I don’t know. There’s so
much about Adam that I want to know. I tilt my head up and stare at
the stars. The glowing balls of fire remind me of the fire that’s
growing inside of me for Adam. The fire that began as crackling
embers. Now the orange and red flames are a tiny smolder.