She Screams in Silence

The next morning during her first period English class, Felicity sat diligently taking notes on Shakespearean tragedy while her fellow classmates took to dozing, being that it was barely past eight in the morning and Mr. Reynolds never actually gave tests on any of his lectures. She wore a pale pink knee-length skirt, very full, and a lacy white blouse with scalloped edges, buttoned up to the throat––Rachel’s selection, of course. She looked like she fell out of a time warp. Her outfit would have befitted a pre-adolescent girl quite nicely...thirty odd years ago. As the blouse was short sleeved, Felicity kept on the cashmere cardigan that matched her skirt. It was quite warm, but no one needed to see her twenty-some band-aids.

Halfway through his lecture, Mr. Reynolds paused, pulling a stack of papers from his briefcase and distributing them amongst his students. They were the essays he had assigned a few weeks before. Felicity could hardly remember what she had written about. When she had finally gotten around to putting it on paper it had been after two straight nights without almost any sleep, a piano recital, an exam in one of her college courses, and a report for her AP Psych class.

Mr. Reynolds handed Felicity her essay, giving her a look of concern as he did so. “You been doing okay, Felicity?” he asked kindly.

“Um, yes, fine,” she swallowed. This couldn’t be good. Turning the page to see her grade, Felicity felt her blood run cold. There, mortifyingly emblazoned in bright red ink:

D+

No, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t happening. She did not get D’s. Ever. She did not get C’s. She did not get B’s. Felicity got A’s. End of story.

“Mr. Reynolds!” Felicity’s voice came out strangled.

“We can discuss grades after class,” he smiled at all his students. “Now, back to Hamlet.”

“But Mr. Reynolds...” Felicity began again, half-choking on her words.

He appeared to be about to tell her to save it for after the bell, but something about the way her face had suddenly turned deathly white and looking as though she were about to start hyperventilating made him change his mind.

“Class, um, pull out your books and read silently for just a moment. Felicity?” he beckoned to her, stepping to the door.

Struggling to keep her knees from buckling, she followed, gratefully leaning against the wall outside as he shut the door behind them.

“Felicity, are you sure everything’s been going all right? This isn’t like you at all.”

“How...how...how could you give me a D+?” she whispered.

“You are one of my best students. I attributed it to a minor slip. Maybe something else got in the way. The thing is, Felicity, anyone else I would have failed if they had given me that. I was generous with you because I know you’re better than that. I mean, your essay was barely coherent. I could hardly make heads or tails of it.”

Felicity stared down at her shoes, wishing the ground below her would open up and swallow her whole.

“Now, don’t get so upset,” Mr. Reynolds tried to comfort her, patting her shoulder. “It’s nothing. A drop in the bucket. You’re not going to fail the class or anything. In fact, you might even still have an A, regardless. And I know you definitely will after the final. So no worries.”

Might still have an A.

Mr. Reynolds frowned at the way Felicity’s face had paled so drastically, her mouth hanging a bit slack. He knew she was a perfectionist, but this was going a bit overboard. “Really, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll be fine. Please don’t let it get you so upset.”

Felicity forced herself to nod, turning back and stepping into the classroom. As Mr. Reynolds followed her in, she turned to him and whispered, “May I be excused for just a moment? Please?”

“Of course,” he smiled kindly, drawing out a sheet of blue carbon paper from his desk and writing her a hall pass. He handed it to her once she had fetched her backpack from the floor, nodding at her, “Now just go and have a bit of a walk or something. Get some air. Clear your head.”

“M-hm,” she murmured, staring ahead blankly as she took the paper, an odd buzzing in her ears.

Numbly, she made her way down the hall to the girls’ bathroom, sighing in relief as she pushed the door open to find no one at the sinks or the stalls. Dropping her backpack, she leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, her eyes wide. What had happened? How had she slipped like this? What was she going to do? A D+ was tantamount to failing in her book. Her parents––what were Richard and Rachel going to say when they saw her grade? She wasn’t allowed to let this sort of thing happen. She was supposed to excel...always. If they saw what she had done, how she had so disappointed their expectations, fallen so far below where she was supposed to be, they’d never forgive her.

Never, never...

Felicity gasped a little. It was starting to feel a little difficult to breathe, like her throat was tightening. Her mind was in a tumult. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She whimpered a little, her hands tightening around her knees, as her vision temporarily slipped out of focus. The tiled walls and floors almost looked like they were spinning, slowly encroaching in upon her, threatening to fall in and crush her to death. This was a horrifying nightmare! She rocked back and forth a little, her whole body shaking, squeezing her eyes shut, not able to concentrate on anything, but the fact that everything was pressing in at once and was going to kill her. She was going to die, she was going to die. Make it stop! She wanted to scream aloud, but her voice was choked in her throat. She couldn’t move, she could barely breathe.

Oh, God, please make it stop! I’m going to die!

For several minutes, she blanked, trapped in this horrifying void that was strangling the life out of her. When it began to pass, she found herself gasping for breath, huddled on the floor, cowering. Tears were streaming down her face uncontrollably, though she didn’t remember starting to cry. A bit frightened, she forced herself a bit unsteadily to her feet, gripping onto the sink for support. Her legs were threatening to give out from under her. She glanced in the mirror, starting in shock. Her face was drawn and paper-white, streaked with tears, and beads of perspiration on her forehead.

She groaned slightly, bowing her head down and wiping at her face. She hadn’t taken Psychology for nothing. She had just had a panic attack. She had panicked. She had lost control, lost her grip, and her anxiety had sent her spinning. She looked around at the walls that had just witnessed her attack, half-fearing they could bring it about again.

Still a bit shaky, she picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, running out. She couldn’t be there anymore. She had to get away.

For the first time in her life, Felicity broke the rules and ran straight out of school. Another minute in that place and it really was going to kill her.

• • •

Felicity walked aimlessly down the streets of Berkeley, her head down, trying to ignore it all. Cars honked at her as they whizzed by, but she didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. She had no idea where she was going. She would continue down one of the main drags for a time, come to an intersection and turn, and then start the process again. If she had bothered to take note of where she was, she might have realized she was completely lost. As it was, she just kept on ahead, staring at the cracks on the sidewalk. She walked for over an hour to nowhere in particular, oblivious to her aching feet, time, or space. She was zoned out and this perpetual mindless walking was the only thing keeping reality from crashing down around her and making her scream.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice interrupted her teetering half-conscious state.

“What?!” she cried, abruptly ripped out of her world. She pivoted around, her eyes searching about wildly for the owner of the voice, assuming it was a violent attacker. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breath was coming fast. Oh, she could not have another panic attack!

“Whoa, Jesus, calm down,” the voice came again as Felicity spun around and came face to face with a young guy, around her own age, possibly a few years older. He was staring at her in consternation, his emerald green eyes roving over her face searchingly. Felicity stared at him. She’d never seen the likes of him before...or spoken to such a person, for that matter. He had crazy hair spiking in all directions, dyed black, and his bright green eyes were rimmed with eyeliner.

Eyeliner.

On top of that, his clothes were dark as well, scuffed Converse on his feet, a studded belt, a chain latched to the wallet in his pocket on the hip of his black Dickies, and his ears were pierced, though the holes didn’t currently sport anything.

“I am calm! I’m fine! Just leave me alone!” Felicity tried to push past him, her voice rising hysterically.

“Hey, wait a minute!” he grabbed her wrist to stop her. Seeing her expression, he immediately dropped it, for she looked as though she might murder him on the spot for engaging in any sort of surprise physical contact with her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, cocking his head to the side, “Come on, just hold on a second. You look about a millisecond away from losing it, and not to mention, if you don’t pay attention to where you’re going, someone’s going to run you over.”

“I told you. I’m fine. And I know exactly where I’m going.”

“Oh, yeah?” he raised an eyebrow. “Nice part of town for a girl to be walking around alone in. You come over here often?”

Felicity paused, staring around her. She gulped. Where in God’s name was she?! Nothing look remotely familiar. Had she really walked so far? She turned about, searching for any recognizable signs or buildings. Instead, she was met by a dirty street lined with giant nondescript warehouses, a few homeless people crouched in doorways. Faintly, she could hear the cacophony of honking and engines, tires zooming across asphalt, leading her to assume the highway was nearby.

Oh sweet Jesus, where had she ended up?!

“Oh my God, where am I?” she breathed to herself, her eyes widening in dismay.

The guy grinned. “I knew you were out of it. I didn’t think this was the big hang-out for any little blonde princess.”

Felicity scowled, “You don’t know me. Don’t judge me like that.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “But, you do admit I’m right? I mean, that you didn’t mean to come over here? And you have no clue where ‘here’ is?”

“That doesn’t make me a princess.”

“No, the nice little pink skirt and cardigan duo do, though. Did your mommy dress you in that?”

Felicity felt her face flushing, though it was more from anger than embarrassment. Deciding against telling him that yes, in fact, her mother had picked out her 1950’s-teenybopper-goes-to-the-malt-shop ensemble, she pushed past him with a sharp, “Leave me alone!”

“Hey, wait, wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you like that,” he jogged forward and jumped into her path to stop her.

“Apology accepted. Now if you’ll go away?” she attempted to dodge him and walk ahead.

“Come on, wait just a second!” he blocked her path once more. “You don’t know where you are, right?”

“No. But I also don’t know who you are, so we probably shouldn’t have this lovely little intimate chat. Bye now.”

“Fine. I’m Billie Joe Armstrong. But Billie’s fine,” he held out his hand. When she only continued staring him down suspiciously, he went on, “Okay, now’s the part where you shake my hand and tell me your name. Last time I checked that’s how it worked, anyway.”

Sighing, she took his hand, studying him warily, “I’m Felicity. Felicity Bennet.” She pulled her hand from his grasp, “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Goodbye.”

“Hey, come on, I’m just trying to help. You’re lost and this is a bad part of town to be wandering around by yourself. There are creepy people around here.”

Resisting the urge to smile, Felicity drawled, “And how do I know that you’re not one of the creepy people?”

“Easy,” he shrugged. “I would have assaulted or mugged you or whatever already.”

She nodded, accepting that she wasn’t going to be getting rid of him anytime soon and perhaps he actually could help.

“Okay,” he smiled. “So, you’re on Gilman Street. Do you live anywhere around here?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Isn’t that right off the freeway?”

“Yeah. Where is it that you need to be? Or, should I say, where is it that you zoned out and left?”

“Berkeley High School.”

“Good call walking out. That’s what I used to do. I see why you left now.”

“You used to go to Berkeley?”

“Among other fine educational institutions of the East Bay,” he nodded. “Didn’t graduate from any of them.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. Everyone she associated with was obsessed with Ivy Leagues and doctoral dissertations. No one she knew had ever not even finished high school. “Were you...I mean, did you leave or...?” she trailed off.

He grinned, “You could say that. I dropped out the day before I turned eighteen.”

“How old are you, exactly?” her eyes narrowed.

“Twenty. You?”

“I’m seventeen.” She paused. “I’m a minor.”

“No shit.” Seeing her frown, he laughed, “Okay, sorry again! Jesus, can’t take a joke, can you? Okay, let’s start over since now you’re not trying to run in the other direction. Sound good?” He held out his hand again, extending the metaphorical olive branch.

“Fine. Nice to meet you, Billie,” she shook his hand again. When the time came for him to let go, however, Felicity found him unwilling to comply as he was studying something on her arm. “Um, hand back, please?”

“What’s that?” Billie refused to release his grip on her hand, turning it over and noticing the end of the band-aid at the edge of her sleeve.

“It’s nothing! Let go!” Felicity cried in alarm, making to wrench her arm back.

But he kept his hold, yanking her back and pushing back the sleeve of her cardigan up to her elbow, his eyes widening at the sight. “Holy shit! What happened to you?!” Billie stared at her arm, band-aids covering it.

“Nothing,” she tried to pull her arm away. “It was an accident.”

He frowned, “Did you do this to yourself?”

“No! I don’t cut! Leave me alone!”

He grabbed her other arm, pushing up the sleeve and seeing the band-aids that decorated it as well. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. He looked up at her, “So what are you saying? If you didn’t do this yourself, do you just have one really pissed off cat?”

Felicity glanced away, “I broke a mirror.”

“Did you get that mad about your hair or something?”

“No. I didn’t hurt myself. It was either my arms got cut or my face. The glass went flying, okay?” she explained, pulling her arms up to demonstrate what had happened.

“So...what? Did you accidentally drop the mirror?”

“No,” she said quickly and then immediately cringed. Why didn’t she lie?!

“Then how’d you break it?”

Lie! Lie! Lie! Felicity’s mind screamed at her. “I threw something at it, okay?” she answered candidly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “You do realize most people don’t go around shattering mirrors, right? It’s a bit...destructive.”

She shrugged, not answering.

“Okay...” Billie said slowly, feeling a bit awkward. He changed the subject, “All right, look, let me give you a ride back to at least a street you recognize or something.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Felicity shied away.

“Do you really want to stay around here?”

“No. But...I don’t know you.” He opened his mouth to protest that he was not trying to lure her into a trap of unimaginable violence and death, but before he could get out a word, she suddenly tore past him. She didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t dare look back. Oh why did she do that?! He was just trying to help. Yes, he had inadvertently delved into a very dark aspect she was struggling to suppress, but that was hardly his fault. She wanted to smack herself. Why was she running? Where was she running to?!

“Hey, where you goin’ so fast, baby?” a voice cut off her self-loathing. She turned and started. An extremely tall young man, probably around Billie’s age, was leering down at her. Inwardly, she felt a cold shudder rush through her. She may have run away from Billie, but at least he hadn’t given her a bad feeling like this guy was doing. That creepy crawly sensation up one’s spine, sending red lights flashing in the mind. This guy was pale and thin, somewhat greasy hair hanging in his eyes. His eyebrow was pierced twice, as well as the ring he wore on his lower lip, which he was making a point to run his tongue around while he smiled at her. And he was wearing enough metal on his face and clothing to qualify himself as a miniature walking hardware store.

“Um, pardon me, please,” Felicity made to sidestep past him, that chilling, uncomfortable feeling he was giving her like an invisible icy hand reaching out and clamping down on her shoulder.

“What’s your rush, doll?” he put a hand out to stop her. “Come on, it’s not everyday I meet an extra from Grease.”

“I really need to be going,” she tried to get past him again.

This time the guy’s hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin so hard that it hurt. “I said, what’s your rush?” his voice got a little lower as he continued to leer at her.

“Please let me go,” her voice quavered, no more than a faint whisper.

“What fun would that be?” he asked, his grip tightening so that he’d leave bruises.

All of a sudden the guy looked up at something beyond her, and she could hear the pounding of footsteps and someone trying to catch their breath. The guy released his hold.

“Felicity! There you are! Come on, we need to get going if we’re going to make that movie,” the person spoke up, proving to be Billie. He took her wrist, drawing her away from the guy and this time rather than demur from his touch, Felicity practically clutched onto him for dear life, gripping the material of his shirt so tightly in her hand she was most likely putting permanent wrinkles into the fabric.

“She your girlfriend or something, Bill?” the guy raised an eyebrow. “Never thought you had a thing for blondes.”

“Yes, she’s my girl,” Billie nodded, putting an arm around her, noting Felicity was pressing into his side, terrified.

“Oh,” the guy said, the note of disappointment obvious in his voice.

“Yup. So see you around,” Billie cut off the conversation, keeping his arm tight around Felicity as he steered her away from the guy, who skulked off to a homeless man lighting a cigarette, trying to bum one off of him.

“Now are you going to listen to me? Or are you going to run away again?” Billie asked once they were out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” she stared down at her shoes, pulling away from him in embarrassment. But moments later, she raised her head, looking him dead in the eye, prompted by something deeper than her ego. “Thank you, Billie,” she whispered.

“It’s no problem,” he shrugged, brushing it off.

“No. I really mean it. You didn’t have to do that and...you did. So...thank you.”

“Well...you’re welcome, then.”

“Do you know that guy?” she switched topics, feeling increasingly uncomfortable over this odd moment being completely honest and open––and grateful––to an almost total stranger.

“Unfortunately. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re not exactly best buddies.” He raised an eyebrow, digressing back to the more pressing matter, “So will you let me help you now? I promise––I’ll give you a ride out of here, wherever you want to go, end of story. Please?”

“Why do you want to help me so much?” Felicity asked him warily, her guard back up instantly. “I mean, you barely––” she checked herself, “you don’t know me. And I haven’t been very polite to you, either.”

Billie rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to earn my nice guy merit badge for Boy Scouts. I tried to walk an old lady across the street before, but she whacked me with her purse. So you want to help a guy out here?”

“Are you really in the Boy Scouts?” she raised an eyebrow.

“No.” He turned in the direction that presumably his car was parked, glancing over his shoulder at her, “You coming or would you rather go find your skeazy new friend and go arrange a playdate?”

Felicity hesitated, battling with herself or what was more important––her pride or her common sense. Sighing, Felicity sacrificed the remaining shreds of her dignity and followed him to his car.