A Whisper To A Scream Page 5

  “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.

  Stepping outside, I close the door behind me. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  She doesn’t look at me. She keeps her eyes on the vast property in front of her. The mounds of green stretch on for at least two miles and are fenced in by barrier of dead trees. Moonlight beaming down from the starry night sky creates a shadowing effect and the wetness on the grass glistens. The sight of it is calming yet eerie at the same time.

  I hold out one of the cups and Wren pushes it away gently. “No thanks,” she says.

  “Are you kidding me? Do you know what I had to do to get these drinks?”

  She smiles innocently. “Burn down a convenient store.”

  “No,” I chuckle. “But close. I stole them.”

  “From who?”

  “Adam.” I set the extra cup down next to me. “What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?”

  “I couldn’t take in there.”

  “Yeah. They’ve taken the word loud to a whole new level,” I say truthfully as someone stumbles into the back door and jeers from the kitchen ring out. “I figured you’d want to be somewhere quiet.” I hold out my cup to her, teasing her with it. “Are you sure you don’t want some.”

  “It’s all you,” she assures me. “Why Ellory Graham, are you trying to corrupt me?”

  So what if I am? She needs a little harmless corruption in her life. In all the years I’ve known Wren, I’ve never seen her unwind. She’s a ball of yarn—tightly wound. Once, just once I want to see her let go. To see her rebel, be wild and carefree. “No, not unless you want me to.” I hint at the end part even though I already know the answer.

  “No,” she says. “My Mom already thinks you’re a bad influence.”

  Tracy Thompson is one of those mothers who thinks you are who your friends are. That’s so not true when it comes to Wren and me. I’ve never been able to influence her. Ever. “Tell your Mom I said she’s too uptight.”

  Wren glares at me incredulously. “I’m not going to tell her that.”

  I chug the rest of the chilly liquid in my cup and chuck it into the yard. I pick up the cup next to me. “Last chance,” I tease.

  Wren doesn’t answer. She shakes her head and I bring the cup to my lips. Tipping my head back, I down the second cup in record time. In fact, I convince myself that I could give the entire football team in the kitchen doing keg stands a run for their money.

  After tossing the second empty cup aside, my attention centers on Wren as she places her head in her hands and whimpers softly. She sniffles, sucking back tears and I slide closer and place my arm over her shoulder. “Wren, what’s wrong?” She lifts her head, cheeks flushed, and swats at piece of loose golden hair in her face. “Seriously, Wren. Did someone mess with you? I swear I’ll kick their—a!”

  She cuts me off in a low, quivering voice. “That’s not it.”

  I place two of my fingers under her chin and tilt her head towards me. “Then what is it?” Seeing her hurt kills me. I want to be a band aid covering her wound. I want to do anything I can to help because she’s been there for me during every low point of my existence. And I owe it to her.

  “Why don’t boys like me?”

  My mouth opens and I lean away. “Huh?” That’s not what I expected to hear.

  “Boys. Why don’t they like me?”

  I don’t know how to answer that. I’m stumped. So I try to answer the question the best way I know how. “You intimidate them.”

  She wipes away a few straggling tears with her palms. “Intimidate them?”

  Thinking hard, I try to put myself in a guy’s shoes. If I had a girlfriend as smart and as pretty as Wren, I’d be intimidated. “No guy wants to admit that his girlfriend is smarter than he is,” I tell her reassuringly.

  She sighs, frustrated. “Why can’t I be more like Katie?”

  Clearly Wren is delusional. “How can you say that? You and Katie don’t belong in the same sentence or category.”

  “Boys like her.”

  “No. Boys use her. There’s a difference.” Again, I tried rationalizing Wren’s claim from a male perspective. If a hot girl was handing out free sex, I probably wouldn’t pass on it. “And that’s because she’s an idiot.” I pause. “And a skank face.”

  Sometimes the whole random hook-up scenario that occurs between kids my age bothers me. A person’s innocence is precious and beautiful and when you share that piece of yourself, in my opinion, it’s supposed to mean something. Sure I’ve, made out with my fair share of guys, but I decided that my virtue is special and I should share that with someone I love. Someday.

  Wren’s lips curl slightly and inside I’m elated. So happy that I’m able to bring a smile to her lips. Sudden warmth starts in my heart and spreads throughout my entire body. “Thanks, Ells. You always have a way of making me feel better.”

  I hug her, squeezing her tightly to my chest. “Any guy would be a straight up moron not to want you.”

  Wren pulls out of the hug and stands. I stand too and motion to the backdoor. “You wanna go back inside?”

  Wren and I both stare at the commotion going on in the kitchen. Josh Turner is running around in a circle, slapping several guys hands as a chorus of cheers erupts.

  She looks at me earnestly. “Nah. I think I’m going to call it a night. How bout you?”

  “I’m gonna stay a little bit longer.”

  She walks to the edge of the porch and nods. “Call me tomorrow.”

  “Will do.” I keep my eyes on her as she steps off the porch and slips into the darkness.

  Pushing my way through
the crowded kitchen, I stop at the keg and lean against the aluminum alcohol container. Josh spins around and cracks a curious smile as the loud chatter in the kitchen dies down. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

  “Hoist me up,” I say adamantly. “I’m about to show you boys how this is done.”

  His chocolate brown eyes wash over me, intrigued. “Is that so?” He lifts his arm and two linemen from the football team move forward. One on each side of me. “We’ll see about that.”

  Twisting, I grab both sides of the keg. The linemen raise me up effortlessly; I rest the nozzle in my mouth and position my thumb over the red button that will eventually spill liquid into my mouth.

  Hanging upside down, I focus on Josh’s white tennis shoes while he amps up the crowd. I can do this. Time to play with the big dogs. Hoots and whistles throb in my ears. Then Josh yells, “Ready…Go!”

  I press the button and an explosion of cool refreshing liquid fills my mouth. Kids start chanting and counting. “One…Two…Three…”

  After a while the voices fade out and my vision blurs. The room is spinning. I’m seeing two of each person. Then three. I thrash and kick violently and the two guys holding me up help me down. I stumble, trying to focus, and Josh catches me by the elbow. “One minute. Twenty three seconds. Not bad.”

  “Thanks.” I’m slurring the‘s.’

  “You okay to walk?”

  “Sssure.”

  He releases my elbow and I can still feel his eyes on as I maneuver through the people. My head pounds. My stomach does a back flip. And another round of cheers pound in my temples. Ugh. I need to get out of here. I can’t see or walk straight.

  I’m in the hall, using the wall as a crutch. I haven’t reached the point where my head is spinning yet, but I know it will only be a matter. Once I hit that point, there will be no going back. Vomit will decorate the beautiful, refinished cherry hard wood floors and the contents of my stomach won’t be an added accessory.

  At the end of the hall, I dip my shoulder, propping myself up against the frame separating the hall from the living room. Squinting, I examine the few remaining couples swaying back and forth on the dance floor, keeping an eye out for Blake. I don’t see him.