A Whisper To A Scream (8 page)

Adam lays on the horn and I almost choke on
my mouthful of coffee.

Mom flips over another page of the paper.
“Somebody’s impatient.”

“Tell me about it.” I slide out of my chair
and kiss Mom on the cheek. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun,” she says musically.

Yeah. I’m pretty sure this tour is going to
be anything, but fun.

Outside, Adam lays on his horn again when I’m
three feet in front of him. I think I’m deaf. And now I’m pissed. A
severe hangover and blown out eardrums aren’t exactly a good
combination. And on top of that, I don’t like him. Yeah. This tour
is going to suck—for him.

Opening the door, I growl, “Let’s get this
over with.”

The chrome buttons on the stereo gleam and
sparkle. I look over my shoulder and every inch of the black
leather interior is spotless. He is also spotless. With a
wrinkle-free navy blue button-up and matching faded jeans. Maybe
someone purchased him from a Banana Republic catalogue. Even the
spikes in his hair are gelled perfectly and parallel to one
another. He’s definitely a perfectionist and he’s definitely a neat
freak.

“Good morning to you, too,” He muses,
whimsically.

Adam is pleasantly chipper this morning and
it makes me sicker than I was before I got in the car. “Just
drive,” I grumble.

I stare out the window as he backs out of my
driveway. Looking at his beautiful face hurts. Every time I find
myself looking at him, I think of the way he laughed at me when I
saw him in the parking-lot. I don’t know if I should’ve expected
anything less. No matter what Wren thinks, I know guys like Adam
never like girls like me. I’m not perfect enough. Or pretty enough.
Or thin enough. And I’m certainly not lady-like.

Honestly, I’ve never questioned that part of
me. I’m perfectly content with my adequate self. I like my hazel
eyes. My size eight figure and I like dressing comfortably. I don’t
believe that it’s necessary to fancy myself up for someone else. If
I want to do that, I’ll do it for myself. Not for some boy.

Then again I just met him. So far, Adam is
more mysterious than anything.

Adam stops at the end of my driveway and
looks both ways. He crooks me a smile and I catch the sight of his
perfect teeth in the refection of the window. “You didn’t sound too
excited to see me.”

I face him with a scowl. “You catch on
quickly. Good boy. Do I seriously look I’m excited to see you?”

A right turn, a shrug, and a laugh. “I don’t
know. Maybe. I think there’s an appealing person beneath the bitchy
attitude.” To avoid any more awkward conversation, I roll my eyes
and look out the window again. “I think there’s more to you than
you’re letting on,” he proclaims.

“Too bad you’ll never find out,” I say
coldly. “To be honest I’m surprised you showed up for this stupid
tour.” That’s the truth. After last night, I don’t know what it’s
going to take for him to really get that I don’t want to be
anything to him. Not even his friend.

“You should be thanking me,” he tells me.

We pass a line of thick trees and miles of
maze comes into view. “To your right we have our first cornfield.
Wait…Did you just say I should be thanking you?” I ask with an edge
to my tone.

“Yeah. Because you should be.”

“For what?” I’m half-laughing.
Half-disgusted.

“Taking you home.”

“
You
took me home?”

“I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes. I did.”

“You’re a liar. You couldn’t have taken me
home.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure?”

I don’t remember how I got home so there is a
slight possibility. No. He couldn’t have. “Yes. I’m sure. I’m sure
because my front door was locked and my Mom would have yelled at me
this morning because I snuck out last night.”

“I know. You told me.”

“I did not.”

“You certainly did. You even told me that I
had to put you through the window.”

How does he know this? This is excruciating.
I wish I wouldn’t have gotten so drunk. I wish I could remember. I
change the subject. “On your left, we have surprise-surprise,
another cornfield.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he
interjects.

“Why not? I’m supposed to be giving you a
tour aren’t I?”

“I didn’t come because I wanted a damn tour.
I came because I wanted to get to know you.” No. This is not
happening. I wrap my fingers around the wheel and jerk it to the
right. He yanks my hand off the wheel. “Are you crazy?” He raises
his voice. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Take me home,” I demand. “This tour is
over.” Something about the way Adam said he wanted to ‘get to know
me’ doesn’t feel right. A bout of nausea waves over me. I need to
get away from him. I need to get out of this car.

A hysterical laugh vibrates in Adam’s throat.
“I’m driving. This tour is over when I say it’s over.”

“I’d rather be dead than be in this car with
you.”

“That can be arranged,” he says icily.

I crack my knuckles. Breaths leave my throat
short and raspy. I’m flushed and on the verge of freaking out. “If
you don’t take me home right now, I promise you. I will jump from
this car.”

A deep booming laugh fills the confined
space. “No you won’t.”

Up ahead, a bright red stop sign fills my
gaze. Oh, this boy doesn’t know me at all. A second later Adam
takes his foot off the gas pedal. In a flash, I undo my seatbelt,
open the door, and jump from the car.

I roll several times on the ground and scuff
my hands on the blacktop, but other than that, I’m okay. Adam’s
tires screech and skid as the car slides to a stop just before the
road sign. I start walking. I don’t want to give him the
opportunity to confront me.

But, he’s quick, too quick. A minute after I
start walking, he’s right next to me keeping up with me stride for
stride. He grips my elbow and whips me around, facing him. “You
could have killed yourself!” he shrieks, enraged. “Do you have a
death wish?”

I grit my teeth and tug on his fingers. “Let
go of me!”

He tightens his grip around my arm. “No.”

“Let go!” I scream. “You’re hurting me!”

He grips my free arm and pulls me close. So
close that I can taste his breath. A pleasant mix of coffee and
spearmint gum. His eyes burn into mine. Scorching. Smoldering. But
emotionless. There’s nothing behind them and the absent emotion
excites me and frightens me at the same time. “Please let go,” I
plead. “Please.” I feel like he’s examining me again. Or maybe he’s
searching for something. A spark for him that clearly isn’t
there.

“You owe me,” he says, thoughtfully. He’s
confusing me. One second he’s furious, the next he’s calm. A light
switch flickering on and off. On and off.

“Owe you? I don’t owe anything.” I try my
best to keep my voice level because every other part of me is
shaking. “Adam, I don’t like you like that.” More than anything,
I’m trying to convince myself that those feelings don’t exist.

Shortly after I tell him that, he releases my
right wrist and twirls his fingers through my hair. “You do
something to me.” He’s mesmerized. And I’m terrified of him. Of my
feelings. Of being vulnerable. “I haven’t figured out what that
something is yet,” he tells me. “But I will.”

The brush of his fingers sends a volt of
electricity through me. My hands twitch. My insides spark. And what
Adam does next startles me. He kisses me. He kisses me roughly and
hungrily. The kiss startles me so much; I pull out of it, whip my
free hand back and slap him across the face.

Adam staggers backward, seizing his jaw. His
bulging eyes switch from my hand to my face. His mouth hangs open.
His fingers massage the fresh red welt on his jawline. I’m not sure
what to do. My heart plummets from my chest to my stomach. My
throat is coated with saliva so thick, I’m not sure I can
apologize. I swallow hard and open my mouth to speak, but a forced
grunt comes out instead. Finally, I say, “I’m sorry I hit you.” It
comes out shaky and insincere. And I do the only thing I can to
avoid the situation. I turn away from him and run down the
street.

Adam doesn’t follow me this time. I hear his
car doors slam shut, the car engine as it roars to life, then sound
of his tires peeling out. I’m relieved. What just happened between
us tortures me. And I almost topple over breathless and
conflicted.

What did he mean I owed him? The simple
question haunts me. And owe him for what? Him supposedly bringing
me home? And what does he expect to get? My v-card? That will never
happen.

Things have just gone from complicated to
more complicated. My life consists of complicated on a daily basis,
but those complications usually have to do with me getting in some
kind of trouble—not complications involving the opposite sex. Maybe
that’s why I never entangle myself with the boys I’ve messed around
with.

There’s no attachment. It’s just plain,
simple fun. With Adam, I know it could lead to more than fun, so I
close myself off. Block out the feelings. I’m a brick wall.

Perhaps he likes me because he thinks I’m a
challenge. From what I’ve heard from guys in the past, they liked a
good challenge. Easy girls aren’t challenge. There’s no thrill in
the chase. Maybe that’s why Adam wants me, because I don’t want
him. Is that better than being with a girl who offers up sex like
an all-you-can-eat-buffet? Girls like Katie. For the first time in
year I actually feel sorry for her. What was she thinking when she
slept with half of the town? Katie and I will never be friends
again so I guess I’ll never know the answer to that.

A puttering muffler pulls me from my
thoughts. I squint thinking I might see Adam, but a large black
truck with a lift-kit stops next to me. Blake.

He rolls down the passenger-side window and
tilts his body so he can see me. “Hey there, drunkee,” he
chuckles.

I climb up the side of the truck, clutching
onto the open window. “Hi, Blake.”

“I’m surprised you’re walking today.”

I smirk. “You know me. I’m not gonna let a
lil hangover ruin my day.” Today, I can blame Adam for that.

“You should thank the new kid.”

What the hell is with everyone?

“Why should I be thanking him?”

Blake shakes his head. “Because he carried
you home.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I mutter. Adam wasn’t
lying. Even though I keep telling myself he was. According to
Blake, he wasn’t.

“I’m serious, Ells. I smacked you in the head
with the door when I was coming out of the bathroom. You blacked
out. Then Adam scooped you up in his arms and carried you
home.”

“Like carry, carried?” I ask with a detached
voice.

“Like virginal bride over the threshold,
carried.”

Guilt tugs on my insides. “It’s like a mile
from my house to his.”

Blake nods. “I know, right? I told him he was
nuts, but he didn’t listen.”

Gee Blake, I’m glad I found out who the real
gentleman is around here. He quickly changes the subject. “You
going to Fall Fest?”

Fall Fest happens every year in Burton during
the middle of October. A festival that farmers started years ago to
celebrate the fall harvest. It’s not anything spectacular. They
only have a few rides, food booths, games, and one haunted house
that went from cool to lame when I turned twelve.

Up until now, I completely forgot about Fall
Fest. I can’t even think about the only minuscule fair our town
has. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep. That and I
want to forget that today happened at all. “I don’t think I can go.
I’m supposed to be grounded.”

“Since when has Ellory Graham ever let a
punishment stop her?”

I laugh. “Never.”

“So I’ll see you there.”

I hope down from the side of his truck,
wearing a cocky grin. “Maybe.”

When I was a kid, Fall Fest was about going
to play games, and ride the few rides they actually had. Now, it’s
about walking around and hanging out with friends. I think about
going. Maybe Adam will be there. No. He’ll definitely be there.

If I can get my mom to let me go maybe that
will give me a chance to apologize to him face to face. My apology
earlier was insincere. Well, not completely insincere. I am sorry I
hit him, but I’m madder at myself for losing my cool, and severely
misjudging him.

When I walk into my house, Mom is still at
the kitchen table reading her paper. She folds it up as I sit down
next to her. She checks the time. “That was quick.”

“Yeah. He said he was in a hurry,” I lie.

“Oh, okay.” She pats my hand. “Wren
called.”

“I’ll call her back in a little bit.”

Mom cocks her head to the side, giving me a
concerned look. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

I know it’s wrong, but I begin to fabricate
my lie even further. “Adam asked me if I was going to Fall Fest.
But I told him I couldn’t go because I was grounded.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to read me. “Oh
he did? Did he?” I nod, excitedly hoping that she doesn’t catch on.
“Do you like this boy?”

I’m not sure. “No.” Maybe. Honestly, I’m not
even sure how to classify our relationship to myself. We’re not
friends. We’re definitely not dating. So then what are we?

Mom steadies her gaze, keeping her hazel eyes
level with mine. “Is he picking you up?”

“No. I told him you wouldn’t let me go.” I
think it bothers Mom that I’m not fighting her on this.

“How are you going to get there?”

I hesitate for a second. “Wait. Are you
saying I can go?”

Mom smiles. “Maybe I am.”

If she knew what I did last night, I’m
certain she’d take back this act of leniency. “Wren can take
me.”

Mom peeks at the phone. “Give her a call.” I
shock Mom when I jump up and hug her. It actually feels good. I
haven’t done it in years.