A Whisper To A Scream (4 page)

On the way home, Wren feels like its safe to
talk. “So,” she begins, “What happened with Mr. Anderson?”

“I got suspended,” I say it casually like
it’s no big deal.

Obviously Wren thinks differently.
“Suspended!” she squeals. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. No kidding around here.”

“Your Mom is going to murder you!”

“Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’m
not going to tell her.”

Wren glares at me and shakes her head. “How
are you going to get away with that? She has to sign the suspension
slip.”

“Forgery is beautiful.”

Wren slams on the brakes at a stop sign and
the car skids, coming to halt. “You can’t forge your Mom’s
signature!”

I chortle. “You act like the school will find
out.”

She presses the gas pedal and the car zooms
forward. “That’s because they will.”

“Really, how? Are you going to tell
them?”

She keeps her eyes on the road, but makes a
face like she’s offended that I think she’d ever do something like
that. “Of course not!”

I’ve forged my Mom’s signature plenty of
times before this. A suspension slip is slightly different than a
tardy slip, but I figure if the school didn’t know then, they won’t
know now. “Don’t stress about it, Wren. I’ll handle this on my
own.”

“You know I worry about you.” Her voice is
soft. “You’ve been getting into a lot of trouble lately.”

“Don’t worry about me. I just have a minor
case of Senioritis.”

Wren spins the wheel and makes a right-hand
turn. We’re a block away from my house. “You weren’t lying about
the new kid,” I tell her changing the subject. “He’s a fine
specimen.”

She laughs. “He’s a total package.” Her lips
curl up into a half-smile.

“How do you know?”

“I have most of my classes with him. He’s a
genius.”

I’m completely baffled. “Smarter than
you?”

“Yeah,” she gushes. “Smarter than me.”

I chuckle. “Your babies will be mini
Einstein’s.”

She’s unsure of herself and uncomfortable. I
know this because she has a habit of licking her bottom lip when
she’s uneasy. And she’s been doing for the last three minutes. “I
don’t think I’m his type.”

“If it makes you feel any better I’m not
either.”

“Ells, you’re every guy’s type.” A weird
grunt leaves my throat. Wren quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Wren, I’m hardly every guy’s type.”

“I hear the way they talk about you,” she
tells me.

“That’s news to me.”

“Half of the reason Megan White hates you so
much is because Blake went around telling everyone that she’ll
never be as good of a kisser as you.”

“No the whole reason Megan White hates me is
because I got caught playing tonsil hockey with her boyfriend.” It
surprises me that Blake thinks I’m that good of a kisser. Too bad I
can’t say the same about him. He really needs some intense
practicing sessions. Way too much saliva. Way too much tongue. The
thought of our little escapade makes me shudder.

Wren pulls into my long winding gravel
driveway. Our red brick ranch comes into view. The house is at
least a mile away from the road and there’s field full of soybeans
in the front and a pumpkin patch in the back.

Normally, I come home to my Mom riding our
big John Deere tractor through the soybean fields. Seeing her
working the fields is comical. She looks out of place because
handling the farming was something my Dad used to do until he left
us.

My parents had been married for fifteen
years. High school sweethearts. Then one day my father decided that
he didn’t want to be a husband anymore or a father either. Their
separation was difficult at first, but I’m a tough cookie. I got
over it. My Mom, she’s still a mess about it sometimes.

Two years isn’t enough time to mend a broken
heart. Sometimes I catch Mom staring out the window and I know what
she’s doing. I know what she’s thinking. She’s watching, waiting,
and hoping that she’ll see his car drive up our driveway. She
misses him. I don’t blame her, but I can’t understand why she’d
want him back. She gave him fifteen years, her heart, and a baby.
He gave her a mountain of debt, a tempestuous affair, and a post-it
note.

The car rolls to a stop. I pull my book bag
strap over my shoulder and hang my legs out the door. “Thanks for
the ride.”

Wren smiles. “No prob. Pick you up
tomorrow?”

I get out and hover above the door. “Nah.
Tomorrow I get my vacation day, remember?”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “It’s
hardly a vacation.”

There’s a cheesy grin on my face. “For me it
is.”

“Do you want me to pick you up Friday?”

“Sure.”

“You know if I pick you up, you’ll actually
be on time for once.”

“Yeah. I’m cool with it.” I close the door
and wave as she backs out of the driveway.

Inside, I toss my book bag on the kitchen
table and don’t make it an inch further. My Mom leans against the
wall and she’s huffing. Her arms folded across her chest. Oh no.
She’s pissed. “Suspended, Ellory! You got suspended!” She throws
her arms up in the air.

“So, I got suspended. It’s not a big
deal.”

She marches toward me and points her finger
in my face. “It’s huge deal. And not only that, but you got
suspended for fighting! And with Katie of all people. She’s such a
nice girl.”

I clench my jaw. “Nice! Nice! That evil witch
dumped milk on my head!” I can’t believe the words that are coming
out of her mouth. The word nice doesn’t belong in the same sentence
when it comes to Katie Halston. After a brief trip to the school
bathroom I managed to get most of the milk off my clothes, but it
was in my hair for the rest of the day. Trust me, sour milk isn’t a
perfume anyone would want to wear.

Mom backs away from me keeping her eyes on
the floor. “I know your father being gone is still hard on
you.”

“Don’t even bring Dad into this,” I tell her.
She lifts her head and I see the tears watering up. She’s about to
spill. I can’t see her like this. It breaks me a part. And on top
of that, I can’t get over the fact that she took Katie’s side.
Nice, my ass. “I’m going to my room.” I leave her standing alone in
the kitchen.

In my room, I flop onto my bed and exhale.
Anymore, my room is the only place where I want to be. Sometimes I
can’t handle life. It’s too complicated. Too unpredictable. Every
day I feel like something bad is going to happen.

Mom pounds on the door. “Open this door,
Ellory! We need to talk about this!”

I’m frustrated. Exhausted. And angry. “Leave
me alone!”

She pounds harder. So hard that I swear her
fist is going to blast through the oak.

“Open this door!”

“No!”

“I’m not going to ignore this,” she tells me
and pounds on the door a third time. “As soon as you come out of
that room, we are going to talk about this.”

That’s if I ever come out.

Seconds later I lied in silence, realizing
that my Mom had given up, for now.

My eyes center on the ceiling. Stick on
glow-in-the-dark stars are placed sporadically all over the white.
I close my eyes, reminiscing about the time my Dad helped me put
them up.

He stood on a step ladder, while I stood at
the bottom. I was daddy’s little helper.

“Hand daddy a big one,” he commanded,
extending his hand down toward me.

I eagerly reached down into the package,
pulled out the biggest star, and then placed it on his hand. I
searched his eyes for approval.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he said, revealing a
warm smile.

My lips quiver and my stomach hurts. Damn.
Maybe I miss him more than I thought.

****

Not even realizing I’d dozed off, I wake up
sometime later. My gaze shifts to the alarm clock on my cluttered
nightstand. 6:30. Wow. Some nap. I’d slept for three hours.

Sitting up, still groggy from my slumber, I
survey my room. More like my local landfill. My space is a class
five disaster area. All of my clothes are scattered on the floor.
There are plates with food stuck on them on all of the surfaces.
Remnants of the nights I ate in here alone. I swipe a finger along
the powder blue walls that are the home to the posters of my
favorite bands. Skynard. Floyd. And Zeppelin, just to name a
few.

I examine the mountain of grey dust on my
finger. When was the last time I washed the walls? It had to be
months ago. Maybe even a year.

Still taking in my wreckage of a room, I perk
up as the sound of faint voices carry down the hall. The way I see
it, I have two options. One I can either go out and face the music
now or two, I can clean my bedroom. I choose option one.

In the hall, the setting sun seeps through
the window casting an orange after-glow along the walls. The warmth
rests on my cheeks and over-heats my entire body. I stop for a
moment, leaning against the wall to bask in the sudden heat. In
this part of Ohio, the sun rarely ever graces us with its presence
so it’s something that one has to appreciate while they have
it.

The sound of two people giggling echoes in my
ears and I snap to attention. Who is my Mom talking to?

Entering the kitchen, I glare at an unknown
woman sitting at the kitchen table. She faces me and Mom turns in
my direction. “Oh, Ellory. Have a seat, dear.” She pats the chair
next to her.

I hesitate, wondering what Claudia Schiffer’s
look-a-like is doing in our kitchen.

The woman gives me a friendly smile. “I
promise I won’t bite.”

Not yet, I think and sit down next to
Mom.

Mom nods to the woman. “This is Isabelle
Jacobs. Her family just moved in next door.”

Jacobs. This has to be the new kid’s mother.
Or maybe his sister. She looks young enough to be his sister.

“Nice to meet you, Ellory,” she says
politely.

Mom purses her lips and widens her eyes. Her
you better be nice or you’ll never hear the end of it look. “Nice
to meet you,” I reply.

Mom brings her coffee mug to her lips. “They
just moved here from Chicago.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?” Mom questions.

“Adam is in my grade.”

Isabelle grins. “You know my son.”

I shrug. “Around here everyone knows the new
kid.”

A giggle. “So I’ve heard.”

Mom changes the subject. “Isabelle and her
husband just bought the old Milton farm.”

“Really?”

That stuns me. Back in the day, the Milton’s
used to be the wealthiest family around these parts. They owned a
chain of supermarkets and one of the biggest farms in the state.
But when Old Man Milton got too old, his offspring threw him in a
nursing home and let the place rot. The last time I’d seen it the
white paint on the siding was chipped and falling off. Two of the
circular columns on the veranda were crumbling and the grass hadn’t
been cut in so long it was at least five feet high.

“That place is a dump.”

Mom grits her teeth and lowers her voice.
“Ellory.”

“That’s okay,” says Isabelle. “We knew it was
going to be a lot of work. But we’ve always wanted to restore an
old house like this one. You should see it now. It looks very
different than a few weeks ago.”

Isabelle’s husband has to do something that
has a salary above 100K because restoring a house like that would
cost a fortune.

“What does your husband do?”

Mom slaps my shoulder. “Ellory, that’s not
our business.”

Isabelle chuckles. “It’s fine. He’s a
lawyer.”

That explains a lot. It also explains why
their son drives a brand new Camaro.

“Well, if you need anything we’re right next
door,” Mom offers. “Maybe Ellory can show Adam around town.”

I harrumph. “There isn’t much to show.”

Mom elbows me under the table and I
wince.

“I’m sure Adam would love that.”

Isabelle nods graciously. “Thank you for
having me over. You’ve been so kind.” Her piercing blue eyes shift
over to the clock on the hanging microwave. “Oh my goodness. It’s
getting late. I’ve got to get dinner on the table.”

Mom stands and places her hand on Isabelle’s
shoulder. “I’ll show you out.”

Half-way to the front door, Isabelle peers
over her shoulder at me. “It was nice meeting you Ellory.”

“Nice meeting you too, Isabelle.”

Isabelle and Mom disappear from my view. Then
I hear the front door slam.

I can’t believe my Mom and the way she threw
out my tour services without even asking me. There is no way in
hell, I’m showing Adam around. Closing my eyes, I think of his
hysterical laughter. Pointing. Clutching his side. I feel
humiliated all over again.

Mom walks back into the kitchen a smile on
her face. “Well that was nice.”

“There was nothing nice about it,” I groan.
“How could you throw out my service like that? It’s like you’re my
pimp.”

Mom lets out a frustrated sigh. “It won’t be
that bad.”

“Bad! It’s catastrophic! I don’t even like
her son!”

“Ellory Louise, why do you always have to be
so dramatic? It’s just a tour. If you don’t want to be around him
after that you don’t have to be.”

I stand, ticked off. I’m breathing heavy and
every limb attached to me tingles. “I’m going back to my room.

I stalk past Mom and she latches onto the
collar of my shirt. “Nah uh. Have a seat young lady. We still need
to talk about happened earlier.”

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?”