She Screams in Silence

A few weeks later one Friday afternoon, Felicity sat alone at one of the outdoor lunch tables, picking at the wilting lettuce leaves of her salad. Truth be told, she didn’t like salads all that much. And not that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was anything to give three cheers about, but she would have liked it if Rachel didn’t monitor her eating habits so closely and she could have had one once in awhile.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly greeted her, the owner of it plopping down in the seat next to her. “What are we eating?”

“Billie!” she cried. “What are you doing here?! You’re not supposed to be here! If they catch you, they’ll––”

He cut her off, “Like they’re going to know. Besides, I only came over here for a minute. This place drives me psycho if I’m here too long, and I’m pulling a shift down at the restaurant my mom works at, but I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I was expecting more joy from you.” He looked around and visibly shuddered. “This place is evil,” he muttered.

“Sorry. I am happy to see you. You just...surprised me, is all. And what did you say you were doing here again?”

“I didn’t,” Billie shook his head, reaching over and grabbing one of the tomatoes in her salad, popping it in his mouth. “This isn’t very good, you know.”

“Yes, well, I believe the cafeteria is serving chicken-fried steak, if that appeals to you more. Or you can always hit the vending machines for...fruit bars. It’s not much of a selection.”

“Maybe I left high school because of the food,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Anyway, about why I’m here, since you’re so insistent for an explanation and so unappreciative of me taking the time to come all the way over here and visit you and––”

“Give me a break, you self-absorbed ass,” she rolled her eyes.

He ignored her. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Trying to get out of a dinner in Sausalito. Some pretentious idiot co-worker of my dad’s bought a yacht or something. We have to go look at it like no one’s ever seen a boat before and everyone can compliment each other about all the money they have and their overall wonderfulness. Trust me, it’s pretty sick.”

“You think you can ditch it?”

“That’s the plan. Why? Do you have a good reason for not attending? Besides, it being soul-crushingly horrible, that is.”

“I might,” he shrugged. “Do you know what time they’re going to leave?”

“Five-thirty, I think. Maybe a little before. Traffic and all that.”

“What do you say I pick you up around six?”

“For...?”

He shrugged again, standing, “You’ll just have to wait and see. You want to go?”

“I don’t know where I’m going. But your idea has got to be better than my alternative.”

“Of course it is. My idea involves me.”

“Can you go a whole day without being an egomaniac?”

“Don’t think so. I’m just too amazing. So I’ll see you at six, then?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Oh, and Felicity?” he added as he began walking away. “You might want to dress warm. It’s already getting kind of cold.” He turned back and left before she could ask him what for. Was this an outdoor event? He was right, though––some clouds had rolled in across the bay and it was a bit chilly out.

She shook her head, returning to her less-than-appetizing salad. She didn’t quite understand Billie Joe. They had a very odd friendship, when it came to it, in fact. As the days had passed, they had fallen into an easy banter, ignoring any time it was...not. The less said about the occasional moments of weird tension, the easier it was to pretend they didn’t exist. Because, after all, Billie and Felicity were just friends. Nothing more. Any other girl might have sat and over-analyzed some of Billie’s comments as suggestive or flirtatious, but Felicity, so new to it, didn’t even know where to begin. And certainly nothing he said was as blatant as his remarks concerning the state of her backside, since any time he did start crossing into that kind of territory, she got a look on her face like he had just suggested they walk into a police station to report the theft of a crack pipe.

And, yes, Felicity did find Billie to be rather attractive, but since they were just friends, there was no reason to bother thinking about that at all...most of the time.

She had met his friends/roommates/bandmates as well in her frequent visits to Billie’s apartment. Mike, the bass player and Billie’s best friend for the past decade, seemed like a pretty nice guy, though he had introduced himself by asking if she thought he looked like Axl Rose. Tre, originally known as Frank and the recent addition to the band after the first drummer quit, was a bit...hyper––to say the least. He had greeted her wearing a dish towel on his head and instructing her to refer to him only as “The Blessed Virgin.” He had also declared “Felicity” too difficult and weird to say, so he had given her the nickname “City-Street” by using the end of her name. Mike and Billie had told her Tre was harmless, and if he offered her Fatty wrapped up in a swaddling cloth as the “Holy Infant,” to just accept it.

• • •

Some hours later, Felicity lay in bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin, Rachel frowning as she put her hand on her forehead, testing for a fever.

“Are you sure you’re too sick to go? I mean, if you think you can make it, you ought to go so you don’t disappoint them.”

“No, I’m feeling pretty bad,” Felicity croaked, trying to look pale and in the middle of minor suffering.

“You don’t have a temperature. But if you’re really not feeling well...” Rachel shrugged. “Shall we cancel, then?”

“No, no, you and Dad go. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to sleep.”

“Are you sure? I hate to RSVP for all three of us and then have only your father and I show up.”

“Don’t worry. But apologize to them for me, please?”

“Of course. Rest. I hate to think of you missing any class or lessons. That just wouldn’t do,” Rachel told her, turning and stalking out of the room in a cloud of Chanel No. 5.

Felicity sighed heavily. It might have been nice if she or Richard had feigned some concern over her health past how it affected her social and academic attendance.

Once she heard their car pull out, however, Felicity bounded out of bed, miraculously healed and already dressed in a thin cream cashmere sweater and black pinstripe dress pants (as Rachel would never think to allow her to buy jeans––far too casual). She grabbed a thin linen jacket Rachel had purchased for her, which did nothing in the way of keeping her body warm, but it was the most substantial thing she owned that wasn’t a pouffy ski jacket.

She raced down the stairs, reaching the foot as a soft knock came at the door. When she answered it, she was met with Billie exhaling in relief. On the off-chance her parents hadn’t left and beat her to the door, he had worked out a complex plan in which he would pretend to be a missionary trying to save souls or a carpet shampoo salesman.

“Hey. They’re gone, right?” Billie glanced around as though Rachel and Richard might suddenly appear and murder him...violently.

“Yes. Now let’s go,” she grabbed onto his coat sleeve, closing the door behind her and heading down the walk.

“Ow. Arm. Almost out of socket,” Billie gasped, trying to stop being practically dragged.

“Sorry,” she let go, smiling sheepishly.

“S’okay,” he shrugged. Then he suddenly gave her a wicked smile, grabbing onto her hand and nearly sprinting across the lawn towards his car.

“Billie! Let go! I’m going to fall!”

He smiled, turning suddenly and stopping short so she crashed into him, Billie’s arms going around her waist to keep her from slipping. “Yeah, but I’m here to catch you.”

“Idiot!” she laughed, pushing away once she had regained her balance.

“Serves you right,” he turned around, unlocking her door and then walking around to the driver’s side.

“So where are we going?” she asked as they got in.

“Just wait and see,” Billie wiggled his eyebrows, grinning devilishly.

“You told me to dress warm,” Felicity gestured to her jacket. “You’re not taking me to some...I don’t know...outdoor pot-smoking party, are you?”

“Damn, you found me out,” he muttered sarcastically.

Less than ten minutes later, they pulled into a very familiar location.

“We’re at my school.”

“You don’t miss anything, do you?” Billie asked, opening the door and jogging around to the other side of the car to open hers as well.

“Why are we here?” she asked quizzically, staring around at the crowded parking lot in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Billie grabbed her arm, pointing to the brightly lit stadium and the cheers emanating from it, “You said you’ve never been to a football game.”

“But...but you hate it here!”

“Yeah. What’s your point?”

“You brought me here? To a game? Even though you hate being here?”

“Okay, well, this isn’t being in school,” Billie shrugged. “Besides, you said you’ve never been. Can’t have that.”

“Thank you,” she whispered shyly.

“No problem. Come on,” he nodded towards the stands, taking her hand. They walked to the ticket booth, Billie pushing her hand away when she went for her purse. “It’s a high school football game, not a Rolling Stones concert. I think I can get it,” he said, digging out his wallet.

Billie pushed his way through the crowds of chattering teenagers lit up by floodlights, keeping a tight hold on Felicity’s hand, as she wasn’t the shoving variety. They made their way across the steel bleachers, finding a vacant space to sit down. As they settled in, a group of scantily clad girls in school colors and ponytails came bounding on scene in front of the field, embarking on a choreographed routine of ass-shaking.

“Cheerleaders,” Billie smiled wickedly, bobbing his eyebrows up and down.

“Stop that!” Felicity whacked his arm.

“Jealous?”

“No, it’s just very rude to come here with me and then start drooling over bouncing bimbos in little skirts and pompoms.”

“Did we hit a nerve?” he teased, elbowing her lightly.

“And you tell me I’m full of it? Now come on, it’s just common courtesy. You don’t see me ogling some random guy, do you?”

“Maybe if they were dancing for you in a miniskirt?”

Felicity gave him a look. “I used to dance. That,” she nodded to the cheerleaders, “is not dancing.”

“Well, you’ll have to show me the difference someday––preferably in the miniskirt.”

“Is this the way you talk to Mike and Tre?” she raised an eyebrow.

Without missing a beat, he quipped, “No, we just have really hot gay threesomes.”

Lacking a comeback, Felicity searched for a way to change the subject. “Oh! Look, they’re kicking the ball.”

“Yes, it’s also called ‘kick-off.’”

She smiled sweetly, “Fuck off.”

Near the end of the first quarter, Felicity was on her fiftieth question to Billie as to what was going on. Surprisingly, he was always able to answer. “What are they doing? Why are they moving back?”

“One of the guys got called for holding.” When clearly nothing registered, he continued, “You’re not supposed to do that. That’s why the ref threw the flag. Okay, so you saw how one of the guys on our team had the ball? And the other guy went to tackle him? Well, you can’t hold someone to keep them from tackling your guy with the ball. You can block him, but you can’t grab onto him. Make sense? So we got a penalty called and we lost five yards. So we go back.”

“Oh,” Felicity nodded. “And I’m still not clear on this thing with downs.”

“When you’re on offense––you know, with the ball?––you get four downs. That’s four chances to get the ball ten yards down the field. If you don’t, you lose possession and then the other team gets to do the same thing.”

“How do you know all of this stuff?” she asked suspiciously. “You seem oddly knowledgeable.”

“Um,” Billie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “I sort of...used to play.”

“You what?!”

He cringed, “Look, it was a brief time in my life. Trust me, I wasn’t going to be offered any scholarships for it or get drafted into the NFL.”

“You? You played football?”

“It’s not that unbelievable.”

“It kind of is,” Felicity nodded, taking in his short skinny frame. Certainly he outweighed her and had a few inches on her, but that wasn’t saying much.

“Look, it was freshmen year, I was young and impressionable. That, and I wasn’t so short compared to everybody else when I was fourteen.”

Felicity smirked, “I never had any idea. Billie Joe the jock.”

“Shut it.”

“Oh, can’t take it when someone makes a joke at your expense, I see.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, deciding not to reply. “Anyway, this is nothing. The games at Cal are better––mostly because you go sit up on Tightwad Hill instead of in the stadium.”

“Tightwad Hill?”

“Yeah. If you ever watch it on television, they always show a shot of the people up on this hill right above the stadium. It’s a way to go without paying. And, also, they sort of frown upon you walking in the stadium with a joint or alcohol, so there’s a way to get around that. You might call them cheapskates, but some people don’t really want to dish out sixty bucks a pop or whatever they’re charging now to watch a football game.”

By halftime, the temperature had dropped several degrees and it had gone from slightly chilly to Felicity feeling the ends of her fingers and her nose going a bit numb.

She shivered, drawing her jacket tighter around her frame, clenching her teeth together so they wouldn’t chatter. It was freezing!

“You cold?” Billie asked, staring at her, amused.

“N-n-no,” she shook her head, hugging herself some more trying to generate some warmth.

He grinned, “That’ll teach you to wear a real jacket next time.” He shook his head, laughing to himself, before pulling his coat open and holding his arm out to her, “Come on, scoot in.”

“What?” she stared at him.

“You’ll be warmer this way. I promise.” Seeing her terrified gaze, he smiled, “Look, I’m not going to try anything with you, Miss Priss. I’m going to put my arm around you. It’s...gentlemanly.”

“I...I don’t know,” she shrugged, though uncomfortably shaking from being so cold, able to see her breath as she spoke.

“Will you just trust me here?”

Not looking up at him, Felicity scooted down the bench, allowing him to wrap his arm and part of his coat around her, pulling her in against him. Instantly she stopped shivering, able to feel the heat from his body as she was against one of his legs and the side of his torso, his arm around her shoulders. She immediately stiffened, however, doing everything she could to keep her eyes averted from him and pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary at being this close to anyone.

He gave her a strange look, trying to suppress a grin, “Felicity, you’re sort of creeping me out here.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re as stiff as a board and it’s really weird, because I kind of feel like I lifted a mannequin from some store and brought it to the game, which would make me a psychotic freak. So if you could relax slightly or speak or move or give some sort of indication that you’re alive, it would be nice.”

Grudgingly, Felicity let her shoulders slouch a bit.

After a few minutes, she glanced over, noticing a pretty girl in a striped polo with thick blonde hair, looking like she just stepped out of an American Eagle ad, studying her. “Hey, you’re in my Econ class, aren’t you?” the girl cocked her head, looking at her. “Fourth period? Mr. Mason?”

“Yeah,” Felicity nodded, utterly astonished that someone recognized her––that she wasn’t so invisible.

“Thought so. I knew you looked familiar,” she smiled. “I’m Gaby.”

“Felicity.”

“Aw, is he your boyfriend?” Gaby grinned at Billie.

Before Felicity could open her mouth to issue a negative, Billie cut in, “Yup. She’s my girl.” He smiled, giving her a light squeeze and leaning in to give a big smacker on her cheek.

“Aw, oh my Gawd, you guys are so cute together!!” Gaby squealed. She waggled her fingers at them both and then departed to go flirt with some bronzed blonde Apollo-wannabe.

Felicity, red right up to her hairline, stared at him. “Excuse me?!”

“Come on, you can be hot gossip for Miss Gaby,” Billie shrugged and then dropped into an imitation of the effervescent young lady. Felicity, however, was a bit too preoccupied with something.

Did he just kiss me?

Through the rest of the game, and even after he had dropped her back off at home and she was lying in bed, it still kept running through her mind.

“Stop thinking about it! It was nothing! He’s just my friend! Stop it!” she whispered to herself, her hands against her face.