A Whisper To A Scream Page 4

  Rolling my eyes, I plop down in the chair. “What about it?”

  She tsks, folds her arms across chest and leans against the island. “We’re going to discuss your suspension.”

  “What is there to discuss? I got suspended. End of story.”

  Mom laughs and sounds like a lunatic. “Oh no. If you think tomorrow is going to be a free vacation day for you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  I lower my head. My temples are throbbing and I feel a migraine coming on. I’m so over today. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to go to bed. Shutting my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What’s the damage? What’s my punishment?”

  “You’re going to work the field with me tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” Working one day in the field is totally worth breaking Katie Halston’s nose. A million times over.

  ****

  The next morning, I’m pulled out of my deep sleep by the lights flickering on and off. I groan and roll over yanking my comforter up over my head.

  Mom’s footsteps thud against the carpet. “I don’t think so. Time to wake up.”

  She rips my comforter off me.

  I shiver and rub warmth into my arms. Then I focus on the alarm clock. “Mom,” I whine. “It’s only five-fifteen!”

  “We have a lot of work to do,” she tells me and walks out my door.

  My legs dangle off the side of my leg. I’m not fully awake. And I’m tempted to pick my comforter up off the floor and go back to sleep. Mom knows this because she knows me too well. She pokes her head through my open doorway. “Hurry up. Don’t stall. You’re not getting out of this.”

  “I’m coming,” I grumble.

  After getting dressed in my ratty farm clothes, a pair of worn out overalls, a sweatshirt with stains, and sneakers with the soles coming off in places, I sulk into the kitchen and make myself a bowl of instant oatmeal. Standing in front of the sink, I glance out the window. The sun hasn’t even come up yet. I don’t know how Mom expects me to work in the dark.

  I finish my oatmeal and toss my bowl in the sink. Then I yank the window open. Cold air wafts in, whirls around the kitchen and stings my cheeks. I close the window, sigh, grab my jacket, and walk outside.

  Mom pushes a wheel barrel filled with hay toward me. She sets it down. “Spread the hay out along the soybean field,” she instructs. “When you run out of hay. I’ve already brought up some more.” She points over her shoulder to a massive pile.

  Scanning her up and down, noticing she’s still in her pajamas I narrow my eyes. “Where are you going to be?”

  A devilish grin. “Inside. Having my coffee.”

  My mouth drops open. “You said we had a lot of work to do!”

  She rests her fingers against her chin. “Did I?” Mom drops her hands and places them on her hips. “Well, what I meant is you have a lot of work to do.”

  “This isn’t fair!” I protest.

  “Life isn’t fair, Ellory. Maybe you’ll think twice about what you did.”

  No I won’t. I’d punch that bitch in the face again in second.

  Mom claps her hands and walks inside. “Get going.”

  I scowl and watch her slam the garage door. This freakin sucks.

  The wheel barrel squeaks as I push it to the front yard. It’s heavy and twice while I push it, the contents almost spill out all over the ground. It’s almost 6:30 in the morning and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon, turning the sky from a deep blue to and pink and violet combination. I’m distracted by its beauty.

  Mom shouts out the window. “Ellory!”

  I look over my shoulder, pick up some hay, and throw it down forcefully.

  She closes the window and I begin moving down the first row of soybeans.

  Music blasting from a car stereo reaches me and I lift my head, watching as Adam drives his yellow Camaro down the road.

  I scoop up another handful of hay and flick him off. I hope he sees me.

  An hour passes. Then two. Before I know it, I realize it’s almost dinnertime. Sweat pours down my face. Wisps of hair are matted to my cheeks. I’m covered from head to toe in filth and I know for a fact that I smell like B.O.

  I wipe my forehead with my arm and stifle a look around the field. Pride swells inside of me. I never thought I’d be able to finish this job. And I laugh to myself because I’m so proud.

  Scurrying to the garage, I set the wheel barrel down. For the first time ever, I think I’d rather be in school. Then I wish that I was joking about that, but sadly, I’m not.

  Chapter 4: Welcome

  Adam was a devious creature and often thought of himself that way because he was a hollowed-out shell of what a human was supposed to be. The shell of a Jordan almond without the nut inside. So far his acting abilities had been able to fool the students of Logan High, but Adam was certain his façade wouldn’t last long. No. He knew the façade wouldn’t last long.

  He drove down the long country road, music blasting from his stereo, surrounded by vast plains of dirt and green fields. Adam had only been in Burton for three weeks and he already despised the place. In a town this small, there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  Stepping on the gas pedal, his eyes widened as the speedometer climbed past fifty mile mark. Then fifty-five. Next sixty. He felt a thrill, a rush of adrenaline. The rush wasn’t the same kind of rush he felt when he saw blood, but it would have to suffice for now.

  The first house for at least a mile came into view. A long red brick ranch. Some kind of crop grew in the front yard. He glanced out his passenger side window, narrowing his eyes as a girl standing in the middle of the yard flipped him the bird. He smiled, amused. The girl had wild, ringlets of brown surrounding her face and he remembered her from school yesterday.

  She’d gawked at him in the school parking lot. Adam couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about the girl that intrigued him.

  Normally, he was excellent at reading people. Like a human lie detector, but this girl wasn’t giving him a clear signal. During that moment in the parking lot, he’d nodded at her politely, and she seemed to be idealizing him like several of the other girls he’d come across on his first day at Logan High. After witnessing her crude gesture he was beginning to wonder if she thought the opposite and that fascinated him.

  He thought back to his conversation with Megan White when she’d come up behind him and that moron Blake while they were talking in front of his car.

  Adam had peeked over his shoulder at the girl, and then faced Megan. “Who’s that girl?” he’d inquired.

  Megan’s vocal chords had quivered. “Who are you talking about?”

  Adam nodded in the girl’s direction. “The girl standing in the middle of the parking lot.”

  Megan laughed. Inside, Adam’s stomach lurched. The sound of Megan’s laugh made him sick. “Oh that’s Ellory Graham.”

  Adam snuck in another peek over his shoulder. “Is there something wrong with her? She’s been standing there for the last five minutes.”

  Megan threw her head back. “Yeah, lots of things. That girl is a train wreck.”

  Adam tuned Megan out when she said something else, but he pretended to find whatever she said hilarious.

  This girl Ellory was interesting and Adam intended to find out more about her.

  Chapter 5: Small Town Life

  Thanks to Wren, I arrive at school early for the first time in months. After a brief trip to my locker, I enter my first period English Lit class, slide into my desk with a quirky grin, and let out an elated sigh.

  Wren walks in and looks at me puzzled. “I don’t know what’s with you today. The Ellory Graham I know would never be excited to be in school.”

  “The Ellory Graham you know spent eleven hours in a field yesterday, farming. School is like heaven compared to that,” I fire back.

  “That sucks that Mr. Anderson called your mom.”

  “I kind of had a feeling he would.” N
o I didn’t. I’d hoped that he wouldn’t. But, unfortunately for me, nothing ever goes my way.

  Wren’s eyes shift toward the door and I follow her gaze. Katie eyes the room warily then walks in. She takes small cautious steps and turns her body, like I have some rare infectious disease as she breezes past me. “Hey Katie!” I get her attention. “Love the make-over. Black and blue looks good on you.”

  Katie drops her head and mutters, “Shut up.” Then she plops down in her seat.

  Students whisper amongst each other. The sound of the pencil sharpener grinds and hums, shaving away bits and pieces of wood. Paper rustles as everyone flips through pages of their notes. Footsteps thud and echo and I spin around dreading the expected arrival of Mrs. Winkle. But that’s not who’s standing in the door.

  An enticing scent creeps up my nostrils. I’m shrouded by a haze of Aqua di Gio bliss and I don’t mind drowning in it for a while. Adam stifles a look around the room.

  I’m staring at him. At his blue-green eyes. His long dark lashes. His profound clenched jawline. I’ve never seen a boy that looks like him. He’s beautiful.

  I catch myself staring. He probably thinks I’m a creeper.

  Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

  Dropping my gaze, my eyes burn into the empty desk next to my left.

  Do not sit there. Do not sit there.

  He sits there.

  Turning away, I inhale him again. His smell is intoxicating and overwhelming and I have to talk myself out of planting my nose on his shirt to inhale him further.

  Then he speaks to me. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

  His voice is deep, yet eloquent. I replay his question over and over again in my mind before I get a hold of myself. What am I thinking? I don’t even like this kid. After pulling out my supplies I keep my vision glued to the chalkboard. “No,” I tell him.

  He’s shocked. “What?”

  “I said no. Would you like me to repeat it? No.”

  Adam’s eyes study my face and then he glares at my desk. “But you have two on your desk,” he says, a hike of curiosity in his tone.

  I snatch the pens and hold them. “So they’re mine.”

  If this guy is as big of a genius as Wren says he is, don’t you think he’d remember to bring his own supplies to class?

  A loud shuffling catches my attention and Adam and I turn in unison as Katie frantically digs through her purse. She whips out a pen and holds it up like its Excalibur and she’s just plucked from the rock. “I have one, Adam,” she gushes. “I have a pen.”

  I face Adam as he rises from the desk. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” I tell him. “Unless you have a hankering for herpes.”

  Adam scowls at me and strolls toward Katie. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Katie says with a smile.

  He takes the pen and returns to his seat. He doesn’t look at me, but he mumbles, “That was rude.”

  “You don’t know me. Rude is my middle name.” Well, technically it’s Louise, but that is beside the point.

  Seconds later Mrs. Winkle waddles through the door, kicks it closed, and orders, “Turn to page 162.”

  Oh man. She’s in one of her moods. Apparently they are running out of ice water in hell.

  Every part of me that was excited to be back here instead of farming fades. I change my mind and decide that doing chores for my mother is a hell of a lot better than staring at Mrs. Winkle’s crinkly face for an hour. Yeah, this class is going to suck.

  At the end of class, I wait for Wren by the door. Adam brushes by me and accidentally nudges me in the shoulder.

  “Hey!” I shout. “Watch where you’re going!”

  He freezes and his back tenses. Then he pivots slowly and strolls over to me. He leans close and inch away from my ear. Part of me feels violated. Yet at the same time all I want is to listen to the sound of his deep, masculine voice. “Next time you flick me off,” he says coolly. “You better make sure I don’t see you.”

  A weird noise leaves my throat and I’m standing there watching him walk away. My jaw almost touches the floor. The irony of it all is that I wanted him to see me. I just didn’t expect him to.

  Wren joins me at my side and gives me a disapproving nod. “You sure know how to make a good impression.”

  “I know how to make an impression. Not necessarily a good one,” I say sarcastically.

  Wren maneuvers through the students in the hall and I follow her. She stops in front of her locker to unload and reload her supplies.

  I lean against the pewter locker next to hers and sigh. The cold metal seeps through my flimsy t-shirt and I shiver. I hate being cold. During the warm months, placing my bare skin on the metal cools me off. During fall and winter, it’s like having your tongue stuck—frozen to an ice cube.

  She stacks three books in a pile. “You going to the game tonight?”

  “Ah, I don’t know.”

  She picks up the books and wraps her arms around them, hugging them. “You always like going to football games.”

  That’s because for most of them I show up tanked. It’s kinda hard to distinguish fantasy from reality when you’ve had too much Kahlua and hot chocolate. “I just don’t feel like it today.”

  “There’s a party afterwards.”

  We step away from her locker and walk down the hall.

  I perk up. “A party. Where?”

  “The new kid’s house.”

  Bummer. “Then I’m not going.”

  “Are you serious?” she asks, whining. “Please go. I’m going. And you know I never go out.”

  “Is Molly going?”

  “Everyone is going.”

  “Wren, I loathe the kid.”

  She stops mid-step and clutches my hand. “Please, Ells. You know I’d go if the situation was reversed.”

  I exhale. “All right. I’ll go.”

  Wren beams and lets go of my hand. “Yay. I’m so excited.”

  “But I’m not staying the whole time if I don’t want to,” I say, a serious look on my face.

  “I won’t hold you to anything I promise.”

  She walks forward and I stay in my spot. “This is going to be so fun!” she shouts, gleefully. Then she slides to the right and disappears from my view.

  I don’t know if fun is the right word, but it’s definitely going to be interesting.

  ****

  Detention starts at 2:45 and lasts until 3:15. Parading into the classroom, I take a seat in the back. I already know the routine. Write ‘I will behave in class’ as many times as you can before the thirty minutes is up.

  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 walt
z 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?”