She Screams in Silence

“So where to?” Billie asked as they climbed into his car, digging out his keys and sticking them in the ignition.

“Can you just take me back to school?” Felicity asked, looping the seatbelt across herself.

“Yeah, if that’s really where you want to go.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well...you ran out of there a little while ago, so I’m sort of assuming it was not your top choice of places to be.”

“That’s really beside the point. Where else am I supposed to go? I can’t very well have you take me home! My parents would...oh God, I don’t even want to think about what they would do.”

“Well...” Billie started, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “those aren’t the only two places in the world you can go, you know. If you want, you could, I don’t know, go get something to eat. I mean, that is, I could take you and...yeah,” he finished lamely, looking like he wanted to bang his head into the dashboard for just claiming the awkwardness award.

“You don’t want to spend anymore time with me,” Felicity shook her head. “I can’t imagine I’ve been especially pleasant company.”

He grinned, “You’re not so bad.” His smile grew as he watched her face flush. “And besides that, you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day.”

They both fell silent then, Billie concentrating on the road and Felicity not daring to garner the courage to speak up again unless he did. He must have seen the way she blushed. Why had she blushed?! Perhaps she could just push it out of her mind and then this whole ordeal could be over. Maybe.

Eventually, they turned into the parking lot of Berkeley High, Billie putting the car in park and cutting the engine. He looked past her towards the school, letting out a low whistle as he shook his head, “This brings backs memories. God, I hated this place.”

“I don’t like it so much myself today.”

“You usually do?” he glanced at her.

Felicity nodded. “I love school. Well...some parts. Class. I love class. I’ve got a full schedule and I take college classes. And...well, at least my teachers pay attention to me. The other people don’t, but...that’s all right, I guess,” she spoke softly. “School’s my escape.”

He frowned, “But...today it wasn’t? I mean, today you tried to escape from school.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but I got a bad grade. I...I never get bad grades...ever. And I just got so...freaked out. I don’t know why, but just suddenly it all got so...I mean...” she struggled for a way to articulate her point without admitting it straight out, “...I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Panic attack?”

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “How...how did you know?”

He gave a shrug, “I’ve had them before. They’re fucking terrifying. Anxiety rides up, sometimes you don’t even know why, and then...” he shook his head. “Feels like you’re going to––”

“Die,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why I ran out,” she whispered. She turned back towards the window to look at the cluster of buildings that made up the high school. “And now back I go,” her voice came faintly.

“You don’t have to go back in there, you know. We could still go somewhere else.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t skip school,” Felicity shook her head.

“Um, not to be Captain Obvious here, but are you aware you sort of already did?”

She blinked. He was right. “Well...well...” she faltered for an intelligent response, “I can’t miss anymore than I have. I have to go back in.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, reaching across her for the glove compartment to fetch his packet of cigarettes and pull one out. Thoughtlessly, Felicity flinched, scooting away, somehow thinking for some brief inexplicable reason he was going for her leg. Billie smirked at her as he stuck the cigarette in his mouth, “You think I was going to get fresh there?”

“No,” she swallowed, her face hot. Of course he wasn’t. Why would he? She glanced at him as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and cupped his hand around the cigarette, lighting it before taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out the driver’s window. “Those things will kill you, you know,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

Billie smirked again, “I’m counting on it.”

She shook her head, pushing the door open and stepping out. But as she turned to close the door, she paused, looking down at him. “Um...thanks...for the ride...and...everything.” She continued standing there awkwardly.

“No problem,” Billie replied, tapping the cigarette on the car door and flicking away the ash. “Before you go, my offer still stands...if you want.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“No,” he smiled, “you shouldn’t. I said if you want.”

“What?”

“You should shut the door and walk back to class right now. What I’m asking is what you want to do. See the difference? Unless, of course, what you want to do is go back to class.”

Felicity hesitated, glancing back and forth from the school to him. She knew better. She ought to march right back to her class before anyone noticed she was gone. Forget this whole crazy thing had ever happened.

She should go. Right now. Say goodbye and leave. Go to class. Be good.

Taking a breath, Felicity climbed back into the car, closing the door behind her.

She sat there silently for a few moments, staring ahead at the dashboard, wondering if her sanity had left her. What was she doing?!

Billie raised an eyebrow, “I had you figured for going the other way.”

“So did I,” she whispered.

“What?”

She looked at him, “I’ve spent my whole life doing what I should do. And right now I’m pretty fucking miserable.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed, pulling the car in drive.

“Oh my God,” Felicity paled slightly, putting her hand to her face.

“What?” he looked at her.

“I...I’ve never cursed in my life! I just said...said...”

Billie laughed, “You’re not going to hell for saying ‘fucking.’ Trust me.”

“I can’t believe I let that come out of my mouth,” she murmured in shock.

He bobbed his eyebrows at her, “Felt good though, didn’t it?”

“Well...”

“You know it did. Say it again. I dare you.”

“Oh,” she colored a little, “I don’t think––”

“You already said it once. Come on, say it.”

She smiled a little. “Fuck,” she whispered. Her smile grew and she started laughing. “Fuck!” she said a bit louder, now laughing hard. It was like a release almost. “Fucking hell.”

Billie chuckled, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Speaking of crazy,” Felicity dropped back to her serious mode, “so...you’re not going to, I don’t know, violently murder me and dump my body in the Berkeley marina, are you?”

“Yeah, that’s me, abductor/psycho killer-at-large.” Billie rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, come on, it’s fair I ask,” she argued. “Look at what I’m doing. I’m talking to a stranger and then getting in the car with him. Don’t you think that sounds the least bit...suspect?”

He glanced at her strangely, “Um, okay, but...I don’t want to kill people!”

She grinned faintly.

“Hey, look, just because I read Catcher in the Rye doesn’t make me want to go shoot one of the Beatles and just because I happened to listen to the White Album doesn’t mean I’m going to become a neo-Mansonite. Give me a little credit, please.”

“I beg your pardon?” Felicity stared at him.

Billie sighed, “The guy who shot John Lennon claimed that The Catcher in the Rye inspired him and Charles Manson and his...um...little friends claimed the White Album was the inspiration for all the murders they did.”

Felicity shook her head, “I’m sorry. I mean, I’ve heard of The Beatles, but I’m not exactly familiar with what you’re talking about.”

He blinked. “What do you mean you’ve heard of The Beatles? You listen to them, don’t you?”

“Um, no.”

“What do you mean? Everyone listens to The Beatles. Everyone loves The Beatles.”

“I don’t really listen to music,” she shrugged. “I mean, I would, but my mother sort of monitors everything I listen to and the only stuff I’m really allowed is opera...because I sing it...or take lessons to sing it, anyway.”

“I have never met someone who doesn’t listen to The Beatles,” Billie said slowly, sounding as though he were in shock.

“Well, I’m...sorry?” Felicity answered awkwardly.

He shook his head, “Hey, it’s not your fault. Kind of weird, but...not your fault.” He glanced at her. “So you sing? Me too. I’m in a band. That’s what I was doing over on Gilman Street––there’s a place we play sometimes and we’re doing a show there next weekend.”

“A band? Really?”

“Yeah, we put out an LP a couple years ago and we’re about to do another one. Just sort of local, but...yeah.”

“That’s really fantastic,” Felicity nodded. “You must be really talented.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” he grinned at her. “So what about you? Opera? That’s awesome. You should sing for me.”

“Are you insane?!” Felicity’s face went white. “I...I can’t!”

“Why not? Aren’t you any good?”

“That...that’s not it. I hate performing in front of people. You have no idea. My parents make me sing for their friends all the time and it’s just...” she blanched, “I just really hate it.”

“Well, that’s where we differ. I love being on stage. Making an ass of myself or not. Don’t care.”

“I wish I could be like you. Just to not even give a damn. I really envy you for that.”

“Yeah, well...” he shrugged. “So...you want to, er, get some lunch?” he jumped to a new subject.

Felicity narrowed her eyes, “Is that some sort of street lingo for doing drugs?”

Billie raised an eyebrow, “Ah, no. You see, lunch is this funny little thing that happens to most people in the middle of the day. It’s what you call a ‘meal.’ It involves food. Now, there’s three meals in a day, and the lunch one is number 2. That’s what I was referring to when I asked if you wanted something to eat before. You understand?”

“Har dee har har.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering, “‘Street lingo for drugs’...Jesus.” At that, he put on his turn signal and turned out of traffic, attempting a tight parallel park with a lot of extremely colorful cursing.

After managing to not crunch either end of Billie’s car, they climbed out and walked down Center Street, apparently the hot spot for Felicity’s fellow Berkeley High students to ditch class and gather along the sidewalk, lighting up cigarettes. For a moment, Felicity worried someone would recognize her, but that was quite fleeting, as that would have required people to know she existed. That still didn’t exempt her from some odd stares, for she certainly didn’t look as though she belonged. Almost involuntarily, she drifted a bit closer to Billie in some bizarre effort to save herself from those contemptuous stares, her arm brushing up against his.

“What’s the matter?” he grinned at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I feel a little bit, er, out of place.”

He scoffed, “What do you care? Tell them to all fuck off.”

“You may have a point.”

Billie suddenly paused in front of one of the little eateries, gesturing to it. “Bongo Burger. Sorry if you were, uh, expecting Chez Panisse or something, but...yeah.”

“No, it’s fine.”

They walked in, Billie turning to her, “What do you want?”

“Some water will be fine.”

Billie paused, blinking, “What the fuck?! Did you just say you wanted ‘water’?”

“Yes.”

“You...you’re not hungry? At all? I mean, nothing?!”

“Well...well...” Felicity bit on her lip, “I never eat hamburgers or fries. No carbs. My mother’s been pounding that into my head as long as I can remember. She’ll start telling me how fat I look and...I just really hate it.”

Billie shook his head, “Um, I didn’t say you had to cram like ten cheeseburgers. One’s not gonna kill you, you know.”

“No,” she shook her head, “my mother says I’ve put on some weight lately and––”

“Are you fucking insane?!” he stared at her, giving her frame a very astonished once-over, before taking his index and tugging at the waist of her skirt. “Look at you! You’ve got a body that’s...” he trailed off, turning a bit red. “I mean, you’re skinny. You could probably even stand to gain a couple, if you ask me.”

Felicity decided to ignore the fact that his light brush against her skin had caused her to break out in goosebumps.

“Look,” Billie started again, “we’re on a mission today to do what you want to do, not what you should do. So do you want a burger or just some water? Your call.”

Felicity wavered. Suddenly, she could hear the sizzle of the grill as the cook flipped the patties, the smell wafting over to her. She felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs her mouth starting to water. “What I want? I want a burger with everything on it, a coke, fries, and...” she glanced to the covered dish of baklava, “...and a baklava.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he grinned at her, stepping up to the cash register to place the order.

A few minutes later their number was called out and Billie walked over to the table they had claimed with the tray of food. Felicity nearly fell upon her hamburger as though she had been starved for days.

“Hungry?” Billie raised an eyebrow as she started on her fries ravenously.

“I’m just ecstatic not to be nibbling on something like a damn bunny or eating my soup where I have to stop when my spoon hits the bottom of the bowl,” she answered. “Mom’s rule.

“So it’s just you and your parents most of the time, then?”

“Them and their dinner parties, yes.”

He nodded. “That’s what it sounds like. You don’t seem very social.”

“I’m not. Not at all. Never have been.”

“Nothing?”

Felicity shook her head, “Nothing at all. I’ve never been to a dance or a football game or a party. I’ve never gone on a date. I’ve never really gone out with my friends––as though I had any. I’ve never done anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Why not?”

Felicity blinked. She had never questioned any of her actions or her parents’ commands thereof. She had never even thought to do so. “I...well...I guess I just thought that not doing what you were supposed to was...wrong.”

“Because being, as you said, ‘fucking miserable,’ is the right thing?”

“No,” she admitted. “Oh, God, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing anymore,” she shook her head. “Look, can we change the subject? I’m getting out of my depth here.”

“Sure.” He paused for a couple seconds. “Well,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “you got nearly three hours until school lets out. You want to come crash at my place until then?”

“Your place?” she repeated.

“Yeah. If you want,” he shrugged. “And, um, that wasn’t a sexual proposition, in case you were wondering. I mean, if you really insist, I suppose I wouldn’t say no, but that wasn’t how I meant it.”

She stared at him in horror for a few seconds. “Do you ever know when you’re supposed to stop talking?”

“Not remotely,” he grinned. “So you want to come over or what?”

“Sure...the platonic visit, though.”

He laughed. “You got it.”