She Screams In Silence

Rory was just getting out of school on Friday afternoon. She was siting on a bench outside of her school and waiting for her mother to pick her up. Rory didn't have a driver's license; she wasn't allowed. Her mom would be here any minute, because Rory had a piano lesson that afternoon and she couldn't be late. She reached down and ruffled through her backpack to take out her notebook. She wrote songs, but nobody but she knew that. She kept the notebook well hidden at all times so her parents wouldn't take it from her. She grabbed her notebook and a pen and started writing, with the notebook in her lap. A few minutes later, someone sat on the bench next to her. She didn't bother to look up to see who it was - she just kept writing. She heard the person clear their throat, and she finally turned her head in their direction.

There sat a boy of Rory's age with dark hair, a white shirt that said "Misfits" on it, and black jeans. He looked over, too, and smiled. Rory simply smiled back and returned to writing. The boy cleared his throat again, and Rory looked back at him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello..." She didn't know why this stranger was talking to her, of all people. He looked sort of familiar, but she didn't know him. Besides, it wasn't like she was the only one that was still there or anything.

"I'm Billie Joe Armstrong."

She grinned absentmindedly. What a name. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rory Henderson." She extended her hand to him. He reached out and shook it awkwardly.

Billie tried to think of a conversation starter. He looked down at the notebook that was still sitting in her lap. "Whatcha writing?"

Rory blushed and closed the notebook quickly. "It's nothing," she replied.

He tried a different approach. "What grade are you in, Rory?"

"I'm a junior. You?"

"Senior. We have a class together, though."

"Really? I didn't know that." Rory asked. Billie nodded. Just then, a black BMW pulled up. Rory stood up, put her notebook back into her backpack, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Then she turned to Billie Joe. "It was very nice to meet you, but that's my mom. I have to go."

"Oh. Well, okay. I'll see you around?"

"I suppose," she said. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

Rory walked to her mother's car and got in. Immediately, she was interrogated about who the "strange looking boy" was.

"I don't know, Mom. He just came and sat down and started talking to me. I don't know him."

"Well, I don't want you to associate with him, Rory Marie. He looks like a troublemaker. He's definitely not part of our social group."

Rory shrugged. She knew better than to argue. "Yes, Mom."

"Mr. Bonacello is expecting you at 4:00 sharp. You're going to have to walk fast once I drop you off," Mrs. Henderson said, promptly changing the subject and referring to Rory's piano teacher. He didn't like to wait.

"Yes, I know. I'll hurry."

Mrs. Henderson pulled up to Mr. Bonacello's driveway at exactly 4:00. Unfortunately for Rory, Mr. Bonacello owned a very large house, so he had an abnormally long driveway, and consequently, she had a long way to walk. By the time she made it to his front door, it was two minutes after four. She was out of breath as she rang the doorbell, but she recomposed herself by the time he opened it.

"You are late, Miss Henderson. If you are going to learn to be a pianist, you must learn the importance of being present at the correct time!" he scolded.

Rory frowned. "I know. I'm very sorry, Mr. Bonacello. My mother got here late. I apologize."

Mr. Bonacello sighed but said, "Very well, come in and take your seat."

Rory obliged and sat in front of the grand piano in his music room. Mr. Bonacello took his usual stance beside the piano and handed a sheet of music to Rory. "You will continue on the Beethoven piece we started last week. I expect perfection."

That's exactly what he got, too. Rory couldn't afford to miss a note. Her parents would be sure to hear of it, and she would have to practice at home, too. Once a week at Mr. Bonacello's house was more than enough for her. Two hours later, and the lesson was over. Rory walked back down Mr. Bonacello's long driveway to meet her mother, who was waiting in her car by the gate. Rory got into the car and the two of them drove home in silence.

+

A couple of hours later, Rory's father came up to her room. He informed her that they would be having guests over for a late dinner, and he expected her to look presentable. She assured him that she would, and he strolled back out of her room. He wasn't drunk tonight. Oh no, he couldn't risk to ruin his spotless reputation with his snobby, rich friends.

Rory had changed from her childish dress into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She groaned as she realized she would have to change again. She wished she could just stay in her room and skip dinner, but she knew that was unacceptable. Her parents expected her to attend every dinner, but they especially expected her to be present when they had guests. They had to show off their wonderful daughter, of course. Their perfect little angel who had perfect grades, could sing, play the piano, and had the body of a tiny ballerina. Only because they won't let me eatreal food, Rory thought as she changed into one of the dresses that was reserved for guest dinners. I have to be perfect.

Rory couldn't remember the last time that she'd had a good, old-fashioned hamburger. Not one of those processed tofu burgers that her mother made her eat, either. A juicy, delicious hamburger. With starchy, fatty French Fries covered in ketchup... Her mouth watered at the thought.

"Rory, dear! The Dufranes are here! Will you please come down?" Her mother's voice sounded from downstairs. She sighed and plastered a fake smile, that she hoped didn't look too fake, onto her face. Then, she descended the stairs.

There stood Mr. and Mrs. Dufrane with their son, Patrick Dufrane. They were all the picture of perfection with their high-class clothes, perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, and their well-manicured hair. "Rory Marie, you remember Cynthia, Fredrick, and their son Patrick, don't you?" Mr. Henderson asked.

"Of course I do," Rory replied, smiling politely. They smiled back at Rory and each shook her hand in turn.

"Rory just turned seventeen, Patrick," Mrs. Dufrane told her son.

"Really?" Patrick asked, turning to Rory.

"Yes, I turned seventeen last month," she told him.

"I'm eighteen," he told her.

Rory nodded, politely of course, and smiled. If anyone tried to get her together with that foul boy, she would kick and scream. He might be a perfect gentleman while he was around his parents, but she had seen the things he did when he wasn't around them. She wanted nothing to do with him. Ever.

Dinner went well, and the Dufranes left at 11 o'clock that night. By then, Rory was exhausted. She was just about to go to bed, when her mother spoke up.

"That Patrick boy is simply charming, don't you think Rory?"

"Oh yes, he's very nice," Rory lied.

"You two should spend some time together sometime. Just the two of you."

"Like a date? I don't think..."

"Well, I wasn't suggesting that, but I think it's a wonderful idea! Don't you, Frank?" Mrs. Henderson asked her husband.

Mr. Henderson looked up from the shot of vodka he was pouring for himself. "What? Oh, Patrick? Yes, yes. Lovely boy."

"It's settled then. I'll call Cynthia tomorrow and set it up!"

Rory attempted to protest, but she was cut off and sent to bed. So much for kicking and screaming.