She Screams in Silence

Felicity stepped into the foyer, glancing about for any sign of her parents. She did hope to stall the inevitable shock and horror, or at least give it in only small doses. If she could manage to get to her room, she could hide the new wardrobe and there would only be her burgundy-brushed dark hair to deal with.

“Felicity, please don’t tell me you left without perm––” Rachel’s already stunned voice cut off as she came in from the living room. She made a small strangled sound in her throat, her eyes bugging out of her head, as though invisible hands had suddenly wrapped around her throat, violently throttling her within an inch of her life.

“Mom, look, just let me ex––”

“Richard!” Rachel screeched hoarsely. Though she was a bit terrified, Felicity couldn’t help thinking her mother sounded like a banshee in pneumonic death throes.

“Whatever is the matter, my dear? You sound a bit ill,” Richard asked as he walked in. Seeing his daughter, his eyes widened and his face drained of color. “Good God,” he whispered as if he had walked in to find his foyer transformed into a field of apocalyptic carnage, bloodied corpses littering the scene.

“Mom, Dad, it’s all right,” she tried to placate them. “It’s just dark hair and...” she paused, plucking at the leg of her jeans, “denim.”

“Felicity, what...what...what did you do to yourself?!” her mother sobbed. Rachel was crying––literally in tears.

“I...wanted to do some shopping and go back to being a brunette? It’s not that big of a deal! I paid for it myself!”

“You’ve...you’ve debased yourself! This is some horrifying bastardized version of my little girl I can hardly––” Richard began sputtering.

“Dad, please! It isn’t that bad!”

“This is because of that Billie character, isn’t it?! You’re still seeing him, aren’t you?! Deliberately disobeying us!” Rachel accused her venomously.

“Mom, stop, he’s my friend. And...and it’s not because of him. I just...” she worked up her courage, “I just hate blonde hair. And I want to dress my age. Please understand that.”

“This was his doing!” Rachel spat, wiping at the spidery black streaks of MAC mascara with a small handkerchief she had magically produced––perhaps her husband’s pocket-square. “You lied to us and went out with that horrid––”

“You don’t know that I was with him.”

“Oh, don’t you play us for fools!” Richard sneered. “You snuck out of the house to be with that good-for-nothing lowlife of yours and you let him do this to you!”

“Don’t you call him that! And he didn’t do anything to me except to be there and be my––”

“Oh, Lord knows what else he’s done to her!” Rachel cried, interrupting her.

“Don’t you dare imply that he and I have––”

“Go to your room!” Richard pointed towards the stairs.

Felicity gaped. “Are you joking?! Did it ever occur to either of you that I’m no longer five? That I can think for myself? That I’m allowed to buy my own clothes and go out with my friends and just...have some fun?”

“Felicity, now, please.”

She shook her head. “You really don’t see it at all, do you?” she asked softly. “You don’t get it. You don’t see that I’m not a little girl or your little doll to dress up and shut out from the world. You don’t see that trying to control me like you do is just making me miserable. I mean, don’t you want me to be happy?”

“Felicity, now!” came Rachel’s choked voice. They were both refusing to look at her.

She shrugged. “Fine. Off I go.” She turned to the stairs, but paused. Nearly in a whisper, she murmured, “You really are blind.” Sighing, she headed up the staircase, taking to her juvenile punishment.

• • •

A few hours later Felicity picked up the receiver of the extension phone in her room. She’d have to hang up quickly if either of her parents picked up the line, but she was hardly in the mood to play the proper shut-in prisoner under house arrest.

“Billie?” she asked when the line picked up on the other end.

“Hold on,” Mike answered. Then bellowing, “BILLIE! PHONE!” What followed was a strange crackling and then a nearly deafening thump.

“Fuck, Mike, hand me the phone, don’t throw it at my face!” Billie yelled. He spoke into the receiver, “Hello. Sex addicts anonymous. We meet Wednesdays at 8:00.”

“Billie,” she sighed.

“Mike!” he hollered again. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was Felicity?!” Another thunk. “And stop throwing things at my head!” He turned back to Felicity, “Sorry. That was my way of trying to get my mom to stop calling so much. So, what can I do you for?”

“I just sort of wanted someone to talk to. If you’re not busy, that is,” she shrugged, twisting the cord around her finger.

“‘Course not. Mike’s apparently trying to kill me, but besides that, not much else going on since you left.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, when I got back, my parents, uh, caught a glimpse of me.”

“Oh. How’d they take it?”

Felicity gave a hard laugh. “Well, I think my mother’s still crying. Seriously. I made the woman actually cry. To look at the both of them, you would think someone died. They wouldn’t even look at me. I’ve been banished to my room for the past few hours. I tried to explain the, ‘go to your room’ thing doesn’t really have the same effect if the child isn’t in kindergarten, but they were too distraught to listen to my argument.”

Billie let out a low whistle. “They took it that bad, huh?”

“Worse, I think. Right now they’re too much in shock to really react. I imagine the shit will really hit the fan later. Oh, though I should say, I think they’re blaming you. They’re convinced we’re having secret rendezvouses, which I suppose is true, but of course, they can’t prove it.”

“Well, I think you look amazing.”

“You do?” her voice brightened.

“Fuck yes!” he exclaimed. “I mean...um...yeah, I guess,” he tried to make his voice carefree and nonchalant while Felicity laughed. His tone changed, “But you know that’s not important. I mean, do you like how you look? That’s what matters. ‘Cause if you’re happier with the blonde hair and the sweater-sets, that’s what you should go for. Don’t make yourself into something you’re not.”

Felicity smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see her face over the phone. “I haven’t felt this good about how I looked in years. Honestly. I mean, I look...real. And I look like I belong in the current decade, which is always nice.”

“So...what are you doing tonight?” he changed the subject.

“I told you. I’m on lock-down. I’m waiting to see if they send supper my way or I’m going to be starved into good behavior.”

“Can you get out?”

“What? Like through the window?” Felicity asked.

“Sure. What kind of drop is it?”

“Um...” Felicity moved over to it, pulling up the sash and gauging the way down, “well, there’s a lattice most of the way down. I could probably climb it.”

“You want to?”

“Depends. What did you have in mind?”

“Can’t tell,” Billie said mysteriously. “Just, er, climb down at about...eight-ish? And, um, if you can manage it with the climbing, dress...nice.”

“Nice? For what?”

He gave a mock-exasperated sigh, “Felicity, if I told you, that would be telling you, which I told you I can’t do.”

“You’re crazy,” she laughed. “But fine. See you then if I don’t break my neck.”

• • •

At five to eight, Felicity was standing in front of a replaced bathroom mirror, nervously twisting to the side to study her reflection. Before she had hated what she saw in the mirror, but now she wasn’t quite sure what to think. The person she was staring at was a new one––or at least one she hadn’t quite adjusted to seeing.

No longer did that looking-glass echo back a haunted little golden china doll. Rather now, she gazed upon an uncertain young woman with dark tresses garbed in a little black dress. She gulped. She hardly resembled a little girl in any shape or form and it was scaring her a bit. It was almost frightening to look sophisticated, to display her figure Rachel had so desperately tried to pretend wasn’t there, to look almost...dare she call herself pretty?

Maybe she ought to change...

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was now five past, Felicity shook her head. She was through looking cute and sweet. It was time to possibly look...nice. And whether it was for a hot date or not, she looked nice in the dress.

Pulling up the window, Felicity positioned her hands on either side and popped the screen, slipping it under her bed and the particularly arranged bundle of clothes below the sheets that suggested a sleeping figure. Putting both legs over the sill and then turning, Felicity carefully drew the curtains and then began making the somewhat perilous journey down, not helped by the little black heels that were bought to match the little black dress.

“Hey, Tarzan!” came Billie’s voice below her.

“Billie, is that you?” Felicity squinted in the darkness.

“No shit. Who else is it going to be?”

“I’m going to turn back around if you don’t be nice.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you got down okay. You mentioned the possibility of breaking your neck, so I was a little worried. I thought I’d come over and, erm, ‘spot’ you.”

“You’ll catch me if I fall? Billie, I’m touched,” she laughed. “But, um, don’t look up my dress, if you’d be so kind.”

“I’ll do my best,” he muttered sarcastically.

Suddenly something thunked him in the head. “Holy fuck! What was that?!” Rather than receive a reply, he got a second thunk. “Fuck! Oh, Jesus! I’ve got a concussion! What the hell?!”

“Calm down. It was just my shoes,” Felicity told him as she carefully maneuvered along the latticework. “I didn’t think heels were the best idea for this little athletic escapade.”

“You could have given me some warning first, you know.”

Felicity laughed. She jumped the remaining foot or so, brushing off her dress and pulling the straps of her shoes back over her feet, gaining a couple inches with the heels.

“Wow,” Billie whispered. “You...you look really...I mean, you’re...Jesus Christ, you’re like...” he stammered. Shaking his head, he managed to get out coherently, “You look amazing.”

Felicity blushed, shrugging, “Cat’s idea. She thought I should have at least one dress that was...well, nevermind what she said––suffice it to say, it’s a dress that’s not appropriate for a piano recital.”

“Cat’s fucking brilliant,” he said almost to himself, still staring at her.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she smiled.

Billie grinned back, snapping out of his trance, “Yeah, you know, I’m...godly.” He held out his hand, “Shall we?”

“So what’s tonight? What did I dress up for?” Felicity asked as she took the proffered hand.

“Well, let’s see, we did the football game, the party, the going out with friends, and this isn’t prom,” Billie said, counting on the fingers of his free hand, “so what’s left that you haven’t done yet?”

“Mr. Armstrong, there’s a lot of things I’ve never done.”

Billie chuckled, smiling wickedly at her, “I’ll be more than happy assisting you in crossing off some of the things on that list.” When she only rolled her eyes, he continued, “Okay, no more dirty jokes...for now. Come on, think––what else did you tell me you haven’t done? Think...dressed up, with me, what might we be doing?” She blinked. “Felicity, you’re a smart cookie, don’t tell me this isn’t clicking. Here, I’ll give you another hint––we’re going to dinner. Does that make it any clearer?”

She stared at him. Did he really mean...?

“I’m taking you on a date, Felicity,” he grinned. “Honestly, I thought you were a bit quicker on the uptake.”

“You are? This is a date? You and me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never really taken you out...in a date-context.” As she began to smile to herself, he continued, “Are you telling me you dress up like that for your friends?”

“We’re not...friends?”

“Not really, no. You see, my definition of a friend is a bit different than perhaps yours is. For example, Mike and Tre are great, but they are my friends, and as such, we don’t really go out on dates or...um...how did Cat phrase it? Hit bases?”

“So we’re...” she trailed off, blushing a little.

“That, or very, very special friends.” Billie paused. “In the sexual sense, not the retarded one.”

When they reached the restaurant some minutes later, Felicity stared in shock. “Chez Panisse? Are you insane?! This place is a hundred bucks a pop!”

“The upstairs cafe part isn’t,” Billie corrected her, taking her hand and walking up the steps. “While I’m not saying it’s exactly comparable to Top Dog in prices, it isn’t going to kill me. Plus, this place we can get in right away. The main restaurant you have to book a reservation weeks in advance or something.”

“Billie,” she hesitated.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got the money. Honestly. So just let me give my girl a nice dinner like I said I would,” he grinned, slipping an arm around her waist and walking inside. The restaurant, especially the downstairs portion, was quite swanky and Felicity almost felt under-dressed. Even the more casual cafe area seemed rather upscale, and to save from a frightening bill, they split a caprese salad of buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, olive oil, and balsamic and a little pizzette with pesto sauce.

Once the bill was paid, it was Felicity’s reluctant duty to suggest that he drive her straight home, being that the less time she was on her prohibited excursion, the less likely it would be that Richard would personally hunt down and assassinate her current companion. When they reached her home and Billie walked her around the house to below her window, however, Felicity found herself unwilling to say goodbye.

After all, what was one more risk?

“You...um...you want to come up?” As she saw him raise his eyebrows and begin to smirk, she added, “Not for that, you sex-crazed pervert.”

“Sure, can’t turn down an invitation like that,” he shook his head, grinning.

“I just said that it wasn’t––”

“Felicity, take a joke. And, uh, lead the way.”

Pulling off her heels and holding them in one hand, she began making her way up towards the window. When she was near her destination, she turned her head, watching as Billie sprang up the latticework, maneuvering up it behind her. Billie’s hands grasped the windowsill just as she managed to climb inside. He lacked her grace, however, and upon pulling himself in, he tumbled to the floor.

“Well,” he sat up, exhaling heavily, “that was more exercise than I’ve had for awhile.”

“Well, while you’re catching your breath, I’m going to step in the bathroom and just wash my face and stuff, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And do you mind if I maybe...?” he trailed off, making a gesture like he was holding a cigarette.

“Just as long as you smoke it out the window,” she warned. “And enjoy it while you can, because I’m going to put the screen back up in a minute,” she waved towards the screen’s metal siding, tellingly sticking out from under her bed.

“I’ll get it,” Billie shrugged. As Felicity closed the door behind her to the bathroom, he pulled his lighter and a cigarette from his pack out. Cupping his hand around it and leaning his elbow on the sill, he lit it, blowing the smoke out the window. He only took a few drags before crushing the stub out and tossing it out the window, willing to bet his life that the Bennets did not do any of the landscaping themselves and thus would not discover it. Following that, he dug in his pocket for one of those little red peppermint candies, popping it out of the plastic wrapper and into his mouth as he set about in his temporary role of Mr. Fix-It-Handy-Man replacing the screen in the window frame.

That completed without any major incident, Billie glanced around, looking for what to do until Felicity reappeared, which she did within a minute or so.

“You changed?” Billie raised an eyebrow at her ensemble––pale green cotton pajama pants and a white shirt, the little black dress back on a hanger in her hand.

“You made yourself comfortable?” she mimicked his expression as she put the dress back in the closet, as Billie was currently sprawled out on one side of her bed, his hands behind his head.

He grinned, fluffing the pillow under his head, “Yes, lovely mattress you have here.” He paused. “So, what, you went to go ‘slip into something more comfortable’?”

“You see right through me,” Felicity deadpanned, taking a seat on the bed next to him and drawing her knee up to rest her hands on it.

“No, unfortunately, I don’t,” Billie murmured, shaking his head and staring pointedly at her chest.

“Now you stop that,” she swatted his arm. “I’m going to make you leave if you don’t behave yourself.”

“Believe it or not, I am behaving.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“No, trust me, I am restraining myself.”

“From doing what?” she let a small smile play at the corners of her mouth.

Billie propped himself up on his elbows, giving her a lazy smile and starting to lean in, “Well I was thinking about––”

“Felicity?” Rachel’s voice came from down the hall.

“Oh my God!” Felicity cried in mortal terror. She was not supposed to still be awake. She was not supposed to be seeing Billie Joe anymore. And most of all, above all else, she was certainly not supposed to have any young men in her bed. Combine all three and she might as well have removed the screen once more and throw herself out her window headfirst. “Hide!” she commanded Billie.

“Where?”

“I don’t know! But do it now!!”

Billie looked around wildly, before suddenly tossing himself off the bed and dropping to the floor with a dull thud. He rolled under the bed, yanking the dust ruffle over his face as the door handle turned.

“Felicity? I thought I heard voices?” Rachel appeared in an expensive looking peignoir, looking a bit dazed.

“Oh, no, Mom. I just...er...was listening to some music. Um...” she glanced about before grabbing a cassette, waving it at her, “Carmen.”

“Oh. Well, please turn it off. It’s late. You should be in bed.”

“Yes. Sorry, Mom.”

Rachel sighed, shaking her head and walking out, closing the door behind her. As soon as she heard the master bedroom door close, Felicity walked over and locked her own door.

“She gone?” Billie’s face appeared as he lifted the dust ruffle.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Felicity sighed, sinking onto the bed. “Don’t worry though now––I locked the door.”

“That so?” he smirked, taking the seat next to her.

“You have a look on your face that suggests you’re thinking about not behaving yourself,” she smiled at him.

“Can’t really help it,” he murmured, leaning in towards her.

“My mother would kill me if she found out I was still seeing you,” Felicity whispered at his lips.

“Even more so if she knew what you were doing with me,” Billie grinned, leaning in further and setting his mouth on hers. Felicity tried and failed to catch the moan in her throat, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair. His lips were ardent and insistent, dropping down over her neck and collarbone and burning into her skin, before returning to her mouth, making her mind reel. She responded, pulling him in against her and making no protest a few minutes later as he pushed her back onto the bed, his hand sliding up her shirt. She caught her breath as his hand ran over her bare skin, up across her waist, over her side, to his fingers lightly tracing across the underwire of her bra. Their breathing had both gone absolutely ragged. There was no concept of time anymore. For Felicity, all that existed were Billie’s lips, his hands traveling over her, everything about him––he was the only real thing in her universe. And though her back was being pressed into the mattress, his every touch was sending her flying, feeling like he had ignited some spark that was progressively growing more passionate and heated.

Billie started tugging at her shirt, and he had actually gotten it almost all the way off before Felicity’s mind suddenly dropped out of autopilot.

“Billie,” she whispered, looking up at him worriedly.

“What?” he whispered back, momentarily breaking away.

“Um...” She didn’t quite know how to phrase what was going through her head. “Well, uh...”

He exhaled slowly. “Do you want to stop?”

She only bit down on her lip, feeling her face flush. But he seemed to have taken the hint, for in the next second he pulled away, rolling over so he was lying on his back next to her, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re...you’re not mad, are you?” Felicity ventured after a minute or two of silence, trying to surreptitiously fix her shirt.

He glanced at her, “What? I’m not mad. It’s not like the only thing I want to do is get in your pants.”

“It’s just...” Felicity bent her head down, fiddling with an imaginary loose thread, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything. I mean, don’t think that it’s because I don’t want to––that is to say, I mean...” she winced, realizing she was just babbling.

“Felicity, stop,” he interrupted her, grinning. “You don’t have to apologize or anything. It’s okay. Really.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, trust me, I’d be a real bastard if I forced you into something you didn’t think you were ready for or didn’t want or whatever.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said softly. She blushed redder as his eyebrows arched a bit. “I mean, you are the first guy I’ve ever done anything with, so it is a bit...yeah. But besides that, well, um, I’m still seventeen and you’re...not.”

“So?”

“So...so it’s sort of...illegal.”

Billie chuckled, shaking his head.

“Billie, I’m serious! If my parents ever had any idea...I mean, they’d kill me either way, but if they found out I slept with you while I was still a minor, trust me, they’d have you arrested for statutory rape!”

Billie smiled. “And how exactly would they know?”

“Well...well...I don’t know. But, believe me, they’d go crazy and they’d want you to get thrown in jail. I’m not exaggerating. You met them. They’re...insane.”

“So what are you saying that means when you do turn eighteen?” Billie smirked.

Felicity rolled her eyes. Then frowning, “Billie, that isn’t all you...I mean, do you think that I’m any more than...that is to say...”

“Felicity,” he stopped her rambling, grinning slightly. “Didn’t you hear me? I just said that I don’t just want to get into your pants. Now, in all honesty, I can’t exactly say the thought doesn’t cross my mind occasionally...or very, very often...but it’s not the...only thought. You see?”

“I’ve just sort of been told by certain people that I don’t really have anything anyone would want or makes me stand out, and that if anyone was showing an interest in me, it would have to be for––”

He cut her off, “Did your parents tell you that?” When she nodded, he continued, “You know what? They’re full of shit. And you are fucking crazy if you ever, for one second, believe them. Don’t you ever dare, you hear me? That is completely fucked up. Understand? Felicity, you are beautiful and you’re smart and talented and I think you could do anything you wanted––seriously, if you took it to mind that you wanted to tap dance with a monkey while bringing peace to the Middle East, I think you could probably do it. You’re amazing. Don’t you ever think anything else.”

Felicity smiled lightly, “Thanks for being honest...about the sex thing, I mean.”

“I was being honest about all of it.”

“You mean that?”

He grinned, “Every fucking word.”

She leaned in and whispered, “My eighteenth birthday is January 10th.” She shrugged, grinning at the fact that Billie’s eyebrows were somewhere near the ceiling, “Just something to keep in mind.”