A Whisper To A Scream

by S. B. Addison Books

  She doesn’t look up. She’s concentrating hard on the way she’s folding her delicates. “Yes, sweetheart.”

  “Can you give me a ride to the game?”

  “I thought Wren was taking you?”

  “She sent me a text. She wanted to go early and tailgate and I didn’t want to.”

  Mom folds the last article of clothing in the basket. “Sure, honey. Go wait in the car. I’ve just gotta grab my purse.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She ruffles my hair as she passes me and I smooth it down. “No problem, honey.”

  I wait for Mom in the car, dreading the school-spirit filled night ahead. I wish the whole school-pride thing sounded appealing, but sadly it doesn’t. All the high-pitched squeals. The screaming, ugh, Part of me wishes that Adam was the articulate I pegged him for. After Mom gets in the car and pulls out of the driveway, I rest my head against the window. The small shops in town are decorated festively, sporting our school colors of red, black, and silver. Cars lining the streets have red and black spray painted windows and streamers hang from the bumpers.

  I get dropped in front of the field. A chain link fence wraps around the stadium and the field lights are bright, burning orbs like balls of fire in the black sky. Inside, the game is beyond packed. Every seat is full and I weave through the crowd as I make my way to the student section. When I came to games in the past, I’d usually sit at the top of the bleachers by myself, with a thermos of hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps. It’s easier for me to make it through a game when I’ve got a little buzz going on.

  When I make it the edge of the student section, I scan the bleachers vigorously in search of Wren and Molly. Loud hoots and howls echo through the stadium and the entire student section is dressed in red and black. Some of the senior boys have even painted their bodies to show their spirit.

  “Ellory!” A faint cry rings out amongst the madness. I spin around, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

  “Ellory!” I hear again. I squint. Wren is in the top left corner of the bleachers sandwiched in between Molly and one of the painted skin guys. She motions for me to come up.

  I make a confused gesture. How in the hell am I supposed to get up there? Unless I step on my entire class to get there. Wren keeps motioning for me and Molly joins in. I shake my head and reluctantly climb to the top. “Sorry,” I mumble as I accidentally step on someone’s foot. “Ouch!” a girl cries as I squish her fingers. At the top, Wren scoots over and I’m smooshed between her and Molly.

  People are screaming so loud, I wish I had some earplugs. “That was a work-out,” I tell Wren.

  “What?” she shouts.

  “Never mind,” I grumble. I know she can’t hear me, but I say it anyway.

  My attention shifts to Katie, Megan, and the rest of the blonde bomb squad in their cheerleading uniforms. I look away, telling myself that if I focus on her it’s only going to piss me off.

  Our team takes the field and the whole stadium is out of their seats clapping and shouting. The marching band starts up the school fight song and I try to spot Adam on the sidelines. I squint and see the red number one on the black jersey. The light hits his face and he smiles. His smile gleams, jump-starting my heart. I wait for him to look for me in the bleachers, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t look at me. He looks at Katie. I stop breathing. I’m two seconds away from running down the bleachers and leaving the game. Balling my fists, I let out a long breath and try to calm myself down. Why is he looking at her like that?

  Stay away from him. He’s mine. The red letters circle through my brain. This is first time I’ve ever been jealous and I hate the way it makes me feel. Like scrapyard metal tossed away, lying somewhere in a junkyard. I’m excess. Only good for certain projects and only used in small doses.

  Adam’s attention shifts away from Katie abruptly, and then his eyes find mine in the crowd. His gaze burns into mine, and he holds his for a second and then he winks at me. A smirk on his lips. I forget about my jealousy. I forget about how angry I am. So I smile and wave as Adam puts on his helmet and dashes onto the field.

  There was something about the way Adam looked at me that was different from the way he looked at Katie. He looked at me and his eyes were full of adoration. I feel a little better, knowing that. Knowing that just from the way he looks at me that I mean more to him than any other girl in the whole stadium.

  For the first half of the game I don’t really pay attention to what’s happening on the field. There is way too much happening on the sidelines. Some kid a few rows down from us stands during some big play and lets out a ferocious roar, banging his fists on his chest like Tarzan. I place my lips against Wren’s ear and shout, “People really go crazy over this, huh?”

  “Well, what do you expect?” she shouts back. “This is a play-off game!”

  During the second half of the game, I actually get into it. I keep my eyes on Adam watching as he completes every pass he throws. On top of his amazing arm, he’s quick, like poetry in motion, gracefully maneuvering around the opposing team’s members as they attempt to sack him.

  My boyfriend is a Gridiron God, lethal with a pigskin.

  Finally it’s the fourth quarter, with only seconds left on the clock. Enough for one last play. The team breaks from their huddle and takes their positions. Adam looks to his left, then to his right and shouts something. The center snaps the ball back and it only take’s Adam a nanosecond to find Blake ten feet away from the end zone, with his arms outstretched. He whips his arm back and the ball sails through the sky. I hold my breath, focused on the brown spinning dot as it arches and plummets down right into Blake’s arms.

  Blake clutches the ball tightly and runs over the goal line. Touchdown. I shoot out of my seat, hug Wren, and jump up and down. “We won! We won!” I calm down and stop jumping.

  Wren laughs. “See. Now you know why I like coming to the games.”

  “I guess I can see the appeal.”

  After the game, I lean against Adam’s car, waiting for him. Headlight’s fade in and out as cars pass me, gravel crunching beneath their tires. Various drivers honk their horns and several guys roll their windows down and scream, “Logan High! Whooo!”

  Adam approaches me, smirking. He’s dirty, drenched in sweat, and as he closes the gap between us, his musky body odor wafts up my nose. I don’t care that he’s dirty or that he’s a bit on the smelly side. This whole rugged side to him makes me think he looks ten times hotter than usual.

  I straighten myself out. “Good game.”

  He pops the trunk and puts his gear in it. “Thanks.” He clutches my waist and brushes his lips against my cheek. “My good luck charm.”

  I eye him curiously. “Who? Me or Katie?”

  He backs away, glaring. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you looking at her.”

  He widens his turquoise eyes. “So. I looked at her. Big deal. I look at lots of people. I’m looking at you now.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then enlighten me, Ellory. What’s the point?”

  Part of me wants to tell him about the letters I’ve been getting and how I think Katie might be sending them. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to because I’m not one-hundred percent sure. But I do know that I don’t trust Katie. At all.

  I think of a time freshman year when I had a crush on a boy named Mike who was in my art class. He might have actually liked me too, except Katie found out that I liked him. And just because I liked him she went after him.

  One day she placed an open can of tuna fish in my locker with a sign that said fish crotch. Mike walked passed my locker, plugged his nose, read the sign and laughed. And well, that was the end of Mike. Katie dated him for about a week then dumped him—which proved my theory even more. She only wanted him because I did.

  “Have you forgotten that she’s my sworn enemy?” I snap.

  “I don’t know why you’re acting like this,”
he says coldly. “I’m allowed to talk to other girls, Ellory. You know you’re my one and only. I’d never do anything to mess that up. I wouldn’t be able to function without you.”

  I can’t listen to him. If he wants to be friends with the girls at Logan High he can take his pick. He can be friends with any other girl. Anyone but her. I stomp off and start walking, silently fuming.

  “Where are you going?” Adam calls.

  For once, I use a play from the Wren Thompson playbook and ignore him. Seconds later he rolls up next to me. “Ellory, quit being difficult and get in the car.”

  I ignore him and continue walking. Turning, I peek over my shoulder at the line of cars behind him. People are getting pissed. The guy behind Adam shouts out his window. “What the hell is the hold up?”

  “Would you please get in the car?” he begs.

  I look at him, roll my eyes and keep marching forward. Finally I speak up. “If I were you, I’d step on the gas. You’re blocking traffic.”

  He checks out the line of cars in his rearview mirror, squints at me, and then he shoves the car into park. Drivers in cars behind him blare their horns, and a few of the people even resort to shouting profanities out their windows. Adam doesn’t care. He isn’t even paying attention to them. He gets out of the car, rushes over to me, scoops me up forcefully, throws me over his shoulder, and puts me back in the car.

  I don’t react. I’m kind of in shock. I think about bolting—running—whipping the door open and taking off into the night. But I don’t because I know he’s fast. I know even if to run he’ll catch me and we’ll be right back in the same situation. So Instead I keep my eyes on the window watching the outside world go by. Watching the shadows dance along the trees and the smog unfurl from the tailpipes of cars as they speed past us.

  Adam tries to get me to speak to him. It’s a lost cause. I can be pretty damn stubborn when I want to be. I’m also mad at myself for blowing everything out of proportion and I feel childish. I always tell myself that I’m not going to act like that. I tell myself that how I’d reacted wasn’t the mature way to handle how I felt about him gawking like Katie the way he did.

  “Would you please talk to me?” There is a needy, yet urgent tone to his voice.

  I sigh, prop my elbow against the window, and prop my chin up in my hand.

  We pass the town center and a group of kids and crowded around a car decorated in our school colors. They must have just come from the field. One of the guys yells, “Yo, Adam!” Adam nods to guy and we fly by them.

  Adam tries again. “Ellory, please.” His voice cracks. “I swear I won’t talk to her at all. You mean more to me than anything in the entire universe. If you don’t want me to talk to her, I won’t.”

  I face him and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Adam. I acted like a crazy person. If you want to be friends with Katie, who am I to stop you? You should be able to have girl friends, you were right. I just have some issues going on with Katie and I don’t trust her.”

  “But you should trust me and you don’t,” he says harshly.

  “I do trust you.”

  “No you don’t because if you did we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

  “I don’t trust her!” I rest my head against my seat. “You don’t know her like I do.”

  “You’re, yo—,” he stutters trying to get the words out. “You’re different. You always will be.”

  He’s confusing me. Adam isn’t the nervous type, but right now he looks a mess. Like there’s something he’s itching to get off his chest. “Adam, is there something you want to tell me?” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and rakes his free hand through his hair. Fresh beads of sweat perspire on his forehead. Something is up with him. Something is wrong. “You know you can tell me anything. You can trust me with anything.”

  Adam doesn’t answer me. I don’t know what bothers me more, the fact that I know something is wrong or the fact that he won’t tell me what it is.

  He pulls into his driveway and several cars are already parked in the grass. Early party guests linger on the porch, waiting for Adam to let them inside. He exhales, trying to stay calm, but he can’t. Adam is breaking—shattering into a million pieces and the hurt clutches my insides. I want him to let me help me. I want him to know that whatever it is that’s bothering him, we can get through it. I reach out to him. He looks tortured and I want to caress the pain away. “Let me help you,” I say lovingly. “I can help you.”

  He slaps my hand away and gives me a deadly glare. “No you can’t.” He laughs into his palms then shrieks, “I’m a monster! No one can help me!”

  “Adam—I”

  “Get out!” he snarls. “Just go home!”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand. Did I do something? Is this because of earlier?”

  “No,” he growls. “Just stay away from me.” Then he gets out of the car, stalks off into the night and leaves me alone to drown in my own misery.

  Chapter 20: Confusion

  I’m moving in slow motion, an empty bottle floating in stream without a current. I block the voices of the party guests as I navigate through the crowded hall. Limbs flail. Music pounds through the entire house shaking the walls. I’m numb to it all. I snatch a red cup full of beer from the kitchen counter and sneak outside to the back porch.

  I sit alone, eyes lost in the darkness spread out in front of me, nursing my stolen beer. My pocket vibrates and I set the cup down. I have a text from Wren.

  We’re not coming. Call me 2morrow.

  Great. Since neither Wren nor Molly is coming, I’m left to hash out the way feel and my confusing relationship with Adam alone. This sucks.

  As I pick my cup up, the scraping sound of the back door sliding open distracts me. I peek over my shoulder. Katie stumbles onto the porch—wasted. She fumbles through a pack of cigarettes, dropping a few in the process. She lifts her head, sneering at me. “Well, weell,” she slurs. “If it isn’t Ellory Graham, the town train-wreck.”

  I slit my eyes prepared to give her a snarky comment, but I’m too upset and too exhausted to deal with her right now. I watch her intensely as she tries several times to light the cigarette in her hand. “You still smoke?”

  I turn around and smell the smoke as the greyish cloud wafts toward me. I fan the musty, staleness out of my face and cough. “What do you care?” Katie snaps.

  “I don’t.”

  When we were kids, Katie used to steal cigarettes from her father’s pack. She’d sneak behind the shed in her backyard and smoke them. Once she tried to get me to try one too. I’d never been a follower, plus smoking was never something that seemed appealing to me. I remember how pissed she was when I’d refused to smoke with her. Katie had always been someone who liked to have minions, followers who did whatever she did.

  My brief memory is interrupted when Katie tosses her butt into the yard. “Hey!”

  I shout before she goes back inside. She places her hands on her hips. “What?”

  “Did you send me letters?” I blurt out.

  She clears her throat. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you send me some letters in the mail?”

  She tsks and laughs. “Why would I send you anything?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  Katie struts to the back door and opens it. “If I had something to say to you. I’d say it to your face. I wouldn’t send you a damn letter.” Then the door slams and the porch lights rattle and flicker. Katie is right. As long as I’ve known her, if she has something to say to me, she says it. She doesn’t need to torture me with random notes to get her point across. I’m also hit with the reality that this is the first time in years that Katie and I have actually had a civil conversation without verbally ripping each other’s throat out. It feels good for a change.

  I’m not all punches and bitchy comments. Sometimes I think everything would be so much easier if Katie and I could co-exist and be content w
ith each other. I’m not saying that we have to resume our BFF status. I’m just saying that it would be nice to be able to see her and not have to worry about our feud.

  Feud aside, something bigger looms in my mind. Who sent the letters then? And how do I find out who sent them?

  I drain the rest of my beverage while walking through the door. I come to a halt in the living room, trying to spot Adam in the crowd. I don’t see him anywhere. I have to go somewhere quiet. Somewhere to think. The porch is kinda quiet, but when the guests get too rowdy you can still hear them. A wave of emotion splashes inside of me. I’m sure it’s visible on my face. I’ve never allowed anyone to witness the emotional side of me and I’m not about to.

  Scaling the staircase, I make my way to Adam’s bedroom. I feel like sleeping my sorrows away. It’ll be quiet in there. No one will disturb me. I turn the gleaming brass knob. Then turn it in the opposite direction. Shit. He locked the door. Digging into the back pocket of my jeans, I whip out a bobby-pin and pull it open with my teeth. I crouch down and close one eye. I stare into the key-slot and stick the pin inside. I jimmy it to the right, and then move it to the left. The door clicks and I push the heavy wood door open.

  I’ve locked my own door on a regular basis since I was thirteen. Once Mom snuck in a snooped through it and found a note between me and a boy my age. After that I’d kept it locked. There was a few times where I’d accidentally locked myself out so I taught myself how to pick a lock.

  I close the door behind me and lock it. Adam’s smell permeates through the air and I inhale, falling back on his bad. I’m drunk. Drunk off his scent. I hug a pillow and tuck myself into a ball. The hurt cuts into me like a dull carving knife. I don’t care if he wants me to stay away from him. I’m not going to. It wish it was that simple, like some random hook-up, but it’s not. He’s pulled me in, clutched my soul. I won’t ever stay away. No matter how much he pushes me away. I know that I belong here. I’m at home here. With Adam.

  Chapter 21: Emotion