A scream never heard

Part One: Ellie

It is three thirty-five in the morning, and I, Ellie Charlotte Adams am staring at a wall. I stare at my ceiling with contentment, as I wait for my phone to chime, telling me that somebody from “The App” has either liked, shared, commented, or messaged me about my artwork. I give a miniscule grin, as I think about strangers aweing at MY artwork. Me! The shy curly auburn haired, freckled thin fourteen-year-old girl stuck in a sleepy Vermont town, who is now starting tomorrow as a first-year student, at a high school with no walls. Oh, how I wish for better days.

I grimace, as I shift around in my bed. Finally, my phone gives me a chime. It is from a user called the_beautifulfam75. I open the message and read on my dimmed screen in silence “You are so talented, Artwork that is beauty beyond compared and I am a huge fan! I love the piece you did with the clay, the newborn baby on a cloud. I was curious if I could commission you to make a replica piece for my wife? We just had our baby boy after many miscarriages, and I feel that she would just fawn over for this sculpture.”

I smile at the text and respond a lengthy message about the price and shipping costs, all no problem to the gentleman, he is deeply interested in my angel piece. The twenty-eighth person to beg for one, and I mean beg, like damn two-hundred dollars for this sculpture? I am lost for words but accept, I can use the money to buy more supplies and save a little for winter slope season passes. I answer a few more messages from customer’s and finally fall asleep.

It feels as soon as I closed my eyes the alarm was flashing and ringing within my ear. I let out a groan as I stretch and roll back on to my stomach, I hear my mother pound on my door and her baroness voice say “Ellie, it’s time to wake up! I made coffee and French toast, with the good maple syrup. I need to leave and open the café, I love you and I hope you enjoy your first day of high school, remember to be home after school to help your father with the farm!” I hear her feet flutter down the hall to the staircase, and like that she is gone.

Oi, my sweet doting mother. Her name is Deborah, and she is the second-generation owner of a diner, and my father Benjamin is a what seems to be million-generation farmer who brings mom her fresh crops to the café and sells the dairy to the highest bidder, so he mumbles at the dinner table. They both are unsure where I got my artistic, theatric personality, and my thick curly auburn hair. I hear my mother joke all the time “Maybe the nurses mixed you up.” Ha.ha.ha. It only sounds as hilarious the first time versus the millionth time of hearing it, however I love my quirky family, they are my muse as the artists say.

I slide into my size four Levi’s and a graphic T-shirt, grey with some paint splatter on it. I look out my window to see the grey clouds. Oi, well that is a mood. It matches my shirt, my mood, my soul. I let out a sigh as I sluggishly drag myself to my closet, I slide into my galoshes and slip into a Carhart jacket, the galoshes come to my knees and I grab my converse. I shove them into my bag and run down the stairs. I grab a cereal bar instead of the French toast, and slam down a cup of black coffee. I gag, and grimace. I had never had coffee before and mother said when I made it to high school, I could have one cup a day. Unfortunately, she did not inform me that coffee was so bitter that I would magically grow leg hair. I will ask about that later if I remember.

I grab my umbrella and wait by the entrance; I see an old school bus with chipped yellow paint squeak to a stop. I hear the bus doors creak open and I slowly step in. The driver smiles and yells over the engine “Ah an Adams! Do you have a brother or a cousin or -.? “the driver is startled as he hears a car behind him honk. “Gosh darn it! Hold your horses!” I take this opportunity to slip away as he grumbles and sit in the back of the bus with my best friend Bridgette. I meekly say, “Hey Bridgette, ready for a brand-new adventure?”

She snaps a quick picture of me on her Polaroid instant camera and lets me sit down. She smiles at me, her beautiful light brown skin gleaming, showing her smile with her new braces and replies with an excited response “I was born ready! Nobody can stop the Ellie and Bridgette duo!”

We both laugh as we feel the old bus go over a bump, it passes the gas station with speed and yet it still feels like a long ways to the school, only a five minuet drive but to me it feels like eternity. Bridgette and I talk about the tryouts for Drama club, the essay for the newspaper, and the first football game. “I hope I can get the perfect photo for the paper! Think of it Ellie, if they used MY photo of the player doing a touchdown and winning the first game of the season! My father would be so proud!”

As we get off the bus, I turn to Bridgette to reply “It wouldn’t be the first time the town paper used one of your photo’s Bridgette, remember last year for the Old Homes Day?!” I accidently trip over and hit the ground, I hear people laughing at me instantly and I feel my face getting hotter by the second.

Bridgette helps me get off the ground and checks to see if I have any scrapes. “are you okay El.” She responds with such kindness and sincerity; I pause and just nod to her. We continue walking and she presses the issue again “El, are you sure? Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

I break out of my trance and like word soup I jumble my words “Nah, my head is fine, I just didn’t see what I was going.”

Bridgette corrects me “You mean you didn’t see what you were doing? Or you didn’t know where you were going?”

I nod again and she chuckles as I respond embarrassed “Yeah those two things, glad you understand me!”

We look around the cafeteria, confused I finally blurt out “I thought this school didn’t have walls!?” A boy stops in his path while holding hands with a girl and walks up to Bridgette and me.

“Hey, couldn’t help but hear your question. My name is Erik and this is my girlfriend Alice, we are both sophomores, to answer your question, SOME of the school doesn’t have walls, its an open concept thing, they built this place in like nineteen-seventy-five and at the time that was the cool “in” thing but the only enclosed areas are, the Gym, the AEP room, Woodshop, Auto Technologies, Choir room, Band room, Art room, the guidance office, the principle’s area also has a few enclosed spaces like nurses station, offices, and a spare “quite” room and like the teacher lounge or as I call it the fishbowl because its made out of glass.”

Erik bombardes Bridgette and I with information, we awkwardly follow like sheep as he herds us towards the gym for orientation. Alice never let’s go of Erik’s hand, and never peeps a word to either of us. She stares at us with an icy lost gaze, her jet-black hair hitting her face as he practically drags her around, she seems annoyed but unwilling to tell Erik to let go. We get to the gym and he looks over to the auditorium and points “There you are, all your answers will soon be answered! Have fun and -.” Erik coughs and finally finishes “Welcome.”

Before Bridgette and I can thank them, they disappear back into the crowded lunchroom. We shrug our shoulders and sit down in the maroon seats; they squeak as we get comfortable. I look around and see the remnants of last year’s musical on the far right corner of the stage, the old championship trophies within the distance, the dingy carpet grazing my converse shoes as I lightly dangle my legs in the chair. I take a deep breath and cough, its musty in this school and to be frank its not the mix of students and staff that are the cause, it’s the nineteen-seventy-five orange carpet, the maroon theater seats, and the fact the curtains on the stage appear as if they have never seen a washing machine let alone a steam cleaner. I sigh and begin to fall asleep.

The auditorium fills rather quickly with students and staff, and finally as my eyes begin to close, I hear a shrill voice on the old speakers crackling “Welcome new students and welcome BACK previous students and of course our wonderful faculty! I am so excited to talk about our upcoming school year but first let me introduce myself, if you are not sure who I am my name is Mr. Donahue, I am ----”

His voice trails off as I fall asleep, the next hour and a half of my life just a dreamland. It is pleasant, I feel safe as Bridgette lets me lay my head on her shoulder. Her hair smells like flowers of sort, my favorite. I finally feel her shaking me and say “El, nap-time is over, we have to go to homeroom now and start the day.”

I groan “Can Mr. Donahue just keep on talking all day, so I can nap just a bit longer.”

Bridgette giggles at me and flashes her braces and scolds “No Ellie Charlotte Adams, it’s not nap time! It’s school time, what the heck keeps you up at night?”

Suddenly, we hear three voices interject “Probably all the boys on “The App!” right Ellie?!”

Oh crap. If it was not the tormenter’s themselves, the group of all things pink and sparkly... Emily, Rachel, and Natalie. As if my first year could not be any worse, they just had to be here. “My mom says only sluts are on “The App.”

They giggle as Natalie continues “She says that’s where girls show off their boobs and that’s why she won’t let me download it! I bet that’s REALLY how Ellie can afford ski passes!”

Cassandra and Emily laugh with Natalie, I roll my eyes and finally attempt a come back “Well of course your mom would know about sluts Natalie! How is that third divorce treating her? Didn’t your dad catch her with the chief of police and that’s why he left for Michigan?”

Natalie tears up and whimpers “That’s not – that’s not true!” Her face turns bright red and she runs away.

Cassandra and Emily glare at me and run after Natalie. Cassandra bumps into me and scoffs, “Better be careful Adams or next time there will be blood.” Emily looks at us with a non-threatening stare. We were friends at one point, all five of us. However, once Natalie, Cassandra, and Emily joined spirit squad and soccer we just parted ways. I don’t hate Emily, I still really care for her, but Cassandra and Natalie just hurt Bridgette and I in a way I cannot easily forgive, possibly with time?

I roll my eyes and watch carefully as they exit the halls. I hear the bell ring as Bridgette and I run into our homeroom, barely in our seats as announcements begin. The five-teen minuets speed by and the bell rings. Great, now onto Science. I part ways from my best friend for the first time of my life, we always had all our classes together. I choke back my tears from the anxiety.

The morning half of the day flew by, not a sight of Bridget to be seen. I began to feel closed in, scared. For a school with no walls why do I feel like I am packed in a small space. Finally, the lunch bell rang, and I slowly walked in. Bridgette was waiting for me. We sat in the corner and chatted for the forty-five minuets and finally my anxiety subsided. After the bell rang, I started to believe I would be alone again, but Bridgette smiled and squealed “We have Art class, Choir, and Gym together! I’m with you for the rest of the day!” I hugged her and we went forward to the Art room.

The art room was four large tables in two rows and was one of the few classes that had physical walls and not the office dividers. One wall was nothing but a glass pane. An interesting choice because if faced the parking lot, more of a lookout to see who was late or trying to sneak to the woods for a cigarette, or ditch school all together. We sit down and a small woman comes in, her long black hair just flowing by as she walked. She coughs lightly and in a frail voice she says “Welcome to advanced art and photography class, I am Mrs. Tetreault. This class is usually reserved for upper-classmen, but I have hand chosen two freshmen this year to join us due to their exemplary talents.”

She gestures us to come to the front of the class, Bridgette and I oblige and she continues “ Please give a warm welcome to Ellie Adams and to Bridgette Powers, their eighth grade portfolio left me in awe and after a discussion with the teachers we all agreed this was the place for you both, I cannot wait to see what you two young ladies create for us this year.”

Everybody begins clapping and we are seated. Mrs. Tetreault begins the class by asking us individually our goals and what we want to create. It finally is my turn. “Ah best for last,” Mrs. Tetreault giggles. “So, Miss. Adams? What do you want to create while at this school?”

I get a slight chill down my spine and nervously reply “Possibly a mural in the town square, my first portrait piece in mosaic form, it’s not my typical art style,”

Mrs. Tetreault smiles at me, her eyes wrinkling as she nods in approval and finally she responds “Oh Miss. Adams, I see much more in your future, the artwork I have seen shows me you have much more potential than you give proper credit for. Now dear for your first piece I expect it to be marvelous and detail oriented of the town square in Autumn, emphasize the beauty Vermont offers darling and it is expected to be as real as possible, not your typical style I previewed.”

I forced a smile and responded, “Yes Mam, of course.”

Mrs Tetreault firmly replies, “I expect it done by Friday by 3PM, dry and on my desk Miss Adams, it’s for the Art Show and its 30% of first quarters grade, that’s in three days and I want it accurate, not a generic piece, I want our town shown in its beauty and I expect that you will get the job done, no mistakes.”

I nod my head to her and reply “Yes Mam, I will not let you down.”

Mrs. Tetreault points to the canvas and the cabinet holding the acrylic paints and says coldly “I’d get started now.”

I practically run to the canvas and softly begin to draw my lines, I hear Mrs. Tetreault coldly yell out for the next student. I begin to sketch the opera house, my mother’s diner, the bookstore, antique shop, the post office, and police/ fire station. I begin to sketch the water fountain near the enterance of town.

I overhear Bridgette talking with Mrs. Tetreault about her newest project and the harsh deadline. “I have to have this in three days?! Mrs Teatreault, do you know how difficult it is to get photos of wildlife?!”

I hear her shrill laughter fill the room “ohhh Miss. Bridgette, it will be of no issue with your skills I am sure of it. Just shoot the photo and have it on my desk by Friday at 3pm. This is the same deadline as all my students.”

Wow. I just thought Mrs. Terreault was harsh, however now I see she just is hard with all of her higher level students because she demands results. I sorta dig it, she doesn’t put up with laziness, my father and her would get along just fine, even though my father isn’t the artsy kind of man.”

Bridgette slumps nearby my station and whimpers “want to help me catch a photo of a bear or a dear? Or anything relating to Vermont’s culture?”

I laugh “No thanks B, you do realize my father owns one of the biggest dairy farms in Vermont, right? We don’t need to try and die to capture a magestic photo of a wild bear. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a barn owl around the farm, that should be good..”

she laughs and nods. The class flys by and I have my rough sketch ready, I smile at the results “cool, how fitting.”

Bridgette grabs me and exclaims “let me get a photo of you and the rough draft! Like a behind the scenes?”

I smile and knod and she takes the photo with her phone, not her usual camera I respond “why the phone, what’s up?”

Bridgette replies “I’m going to post about it on “The App!”

“Bridgette, maybe thats not a good idea. It has my face and our town name and stuff. My mom might get mad.”

I exclaim.

She posts the photo and smiles. I gulp and respond “if I get in trouble you better come to my defense!”

She smiles and knods as we head to our next class.