Sweet Sound of Silence

by Melanie Dawn

  Shrugging her shoulders, Brynlee continued, “I mean all he has to do is turn in assignments and take tests, really. He’s pretty much a genius according to everyone else. He just doesn’t speak.”

  I looked at the guys playing pool with him, laughing and talking as if the mute sitting nearby was no big deal. I watched the girls giggle and flaunt their bodies, sitting on the stool next to him as if they could convince him that they were worthy enough for a conversation. “If he doesn’t talk, then why does it seem like he has so many friends? Look. The girls are practically drooling all over him.”

  “Hell, I have no idea. I think some girls have just made it their mission to get him to talk. It’s like a personal challenge. Who can get him into bed first, maybe?” She winked at me with a wicked grin. “I even think some fraternities have bets going on as to which house can get him to speak first. That’s why they invite him to all the parties.”

  Frat houses were taking bets on a mental patient? “That’s messed up. Poor guy.” I looked sympathetically at him.

  Brynlee huffed beside me. “Poor, nothing. He’s richer than all of the houses put together.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Rich?” He didn’t look all that rich. Frayed skinny jeans with worn holes in the knees, ragged vintage T-shirt, black Vans.

  Brynlee’s tone patronized me. “Hawkley Investments? Stock market mogul. Ever heard of them? Another reason why girls flock to him.”

  “Oh…” I mouthed the word, still staring in his direction.

  Ryder stood up, taking his pool stick with him. He rounded the corner of the table and bent over, eyeing his next move. It seemed as if for a moment, his gaze drifted past the ball, directly at me. My lips tugged into a friendly smile, but he returned a harsh expression and snapped his attention back to his target.

  Brynlee glanced at me as I watched him. “Don’t even go there. Trust me. It’s a bad idea.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, trust me. I’m not.”

  Watching him as he strategically planned his shot with angry, creased eyebrows, I kind of agreed with her. Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe he was crazy. But something about him fascinated me, just as I’m sure it did all the other chicks who were desperately flaunting their cleavage around him for attention. He didn’t bother to even acknowledge them. Instead, he held very still, aiming for the cue ball to bounce off the wall of the table and hit a striped ball into the corner pocket. With one quick swipe of his stick against his thumb, the cue ball did exactly as he’d planned, and he sank his target with ease.

  Several guys around him hooted and whistled. “Nice shot!” one dude told him. Another guy patted his shoulder, but Ryder said nothing. Didn’t even crack a smile. He just stalked around the table, lost in thought, planning his next move while the world around him seemed invisible.

  I nodded to Brynlee. “You’re right. We should probably stay away from him.”

  “Good,” she laughed. “I’m glad you’re seeing things my way. Now come on, let’s go get our dance on!”

  She grabbed Gia and me by the hands and led us out into the crowd. As if on cue, the music started thumping to one of my favorite old school party songs by Montel Jordan. We showed everyone in the room exactly how we did it when we all started bobbing and swaying to the music. Bodies bounced and gyrated to the beat around us. Gia laughed with me as we danced together to ward off any undesirable dance partners. Brynlee shoved me toward this tall guy who looked almost too drunk to be dancing. It was kind of nice to let go. After the week I’d had, I was ready for a little fun. I scooted away from the frat guy though. He was so drunk that it looked like he might puke any minute. Plus, I didn’t think Ian would appreciate it much, even though he’d brushed me off earlier. Brynlee giggled and told me to relax. I just smiled and kept dancing. Every now and then, I’d peek over my shoulder at the silent stranger who seemed to be watching me like a hawk. Ugh.

  POOL. IT WAS the one simple pleasure I allowed myself. It was the only time I felt completely in control. I planned my shots carefully, sinking the balls into the holes with authority. I commanded the cue ball with ease. The world around me joked and laughed while I remained stuck inside myself, unable to break free. I didn’t deserve it anyway—freedom. My shame held me captive, kidnapping my words for ransom. Try as I might, I just couldn’t pay up, so I’d walked away, leaving my voice behind. And honestly, I didn’t even miss it. The world needed someone to listen, and these people around me didn’t even realize how much they were missing out on by blabbering all the time. If they’d just shut the hell up on occasion, they’d appreciate the beauty in just… being.

  I sat down on a chair, watching Fletcher flirt with some chick who felt it necessary to parade around with her tits half hanging out. Didn’t chicks realize how much respect they lost by flaunting that shit around? They were clueless.

  “Heyyy, Ryder,” Brooklyn leaned over, flashing her cleavage in my face. Her seemingly innocent doe eyes batted their eyelashes at me, but Brooklyn was far from innocent. I had ears. I heard what the guys said about her on my hall.

  I didn’t even bother to acknowledge her. I just looked past her and tried to focus on the game. Fletcher was bent over the table, aiming his stick for his next shot. Dumbass. He needed to angle it a little more to the left or he was going to miss.

  “Damn it!” he’d said, just as the stick hit the cue ball.

  I shook my head. Called it. Even with a set of tits in my face, I called it. Brooklyn ran her hand over my shoulder and plopped down on the stool next to me. “Go ahead, baby,” she cooed. “Show those boys what you’ve got.”

  I groaned inwardly. This chick was a walking STD. I wondered how many dicks those pouty lips of hers had sucked. I shuddered at the thought.

  Right before I stood up, a girl standing a few tables away with brown, shoulder-length hair caught my eye. She was smiling and talking with her friends. I watched her for just a second as she flashed a grin, the joy reaching her eyes, at a friend who sat next to her. She tucked a stray piece of brown hair behind her ear as she threw her head back, laughing. She reminded me of a sprite—bubbly and pixie-like. I could almost feel her exuberance wafting off her from where I was sitting, and for a second it pissed me off.

  Just then, she glanced at me and her gaze caught mine. Her lips curled into a smile. A forgotten, foreign urge hit me, and my lips twitched at the corners. I actually wanted to smile, but I just couldn’t. Even though her grin was contagious, I frowned at her.

  She ripped her eyes away from mine, and I momentarily felt regret. Maybe I should have smiled, but I hadn’t smiled in so long I’d almost forgotten what it was like.

  Screw it. It was my shot. I stood up, leaving Brooklyn behind and bent over the table to aim the fourteen in the corner pocket.

  I calculated my move, knowing that if I hit the cue into the wall it would bounce back and sink the fourteen straight into the hole. I pointed my stick toward the corner pocket to call the shot. Sliding the stick back and forth across my thumb, I debated the force with which I needed to strike the cue to hit my target, but my eyes betrayed me and flashed to the girl with the cute pixie-like grin. She watched me intently, her expression filled with… curiosity? Maybe her friends had told her about me. Maybe she’d realized what a freak I was. Good. Maybe now I can get back to concentrating on this damn game. I snapped my attention back to the shot at hand and hit the cue with just the right amount of force to drop that ball right into the pocket.

  “Nice shot!” some dude named Moss congratulated me from across the table, where he’d been watching.

  Fletcher patted my shoulder. I would never understand why Fletch kept trying so hard to be my friend. After the day of the accident, I’d closed myself off to everyone, including Fletch.

  He and I had known each other since high school. We’d been in the same art classes. Fletcher could create any masterpiece with just a few cans of spray paint. His talent extended beyond the typical graffiti art. In fact, he’d won contests wi
th his recreations of Van Gogh and Picasso. He and I used to spend hours working side-by-side on our projects in the art room. We’d grown fairly close our junior year and had even hung out at a few parties together.

  Even after the accident, Fletcher had never given up on me. He reminded me of a Labrador—eager, happy, and loyal to a fault. Fletch was the type of guy who could talk to a wall. The used-car salesman type who could easily gab with a stranger. He was the friendly conversationalist who could keep a one-sided conversation going, despite the awkwardness. Fletch never seemed affected by my silence. He just kept on trying to break through, one shoulder pat at a time.

  I didn’t even bother cracking a smile. This game wasn’t about fun. It was about forgetting. It was about careful calculation and changing the outcome with each successful shot. It was about losing myself in the method of it, drowning out the pain one precisely measured stroke at a time.

  I walked around the table to find my next shot, noticing that Brooklyn had moved on to the next guy. However, she glanced at me to let me know she was still readily available. I ignored her and continued to focus on the game. Unfortunately, I missed the next shot and took my seat to wait for my next turn.

  Occasionally, my eyes wandered to the girl who’d caught my eye. She was dancing and swaying to the music without a care in the world. I barely remembered what it was like to have that kind of fun. I watched that damn contagious smile spread across her face several times throughout the night. She made me lose my focus more than once during the game. Hell, I almost lost the fucking game to Fletch after missing a series of shots. He teased me that I wasn’t on top of my game… that I’d so easily given him the upper-hand. I quickly regained control by knocking in my last three balls in a row. I pointed to the side pocket for the eight ball, sank it, and called it a night.

  Grabbing my jacket, I threw that spritely chick a sidelong glance and felt her eyes on me as I walked toward the exit. I walked straight out the door and didn’t bother to look back.

  MY CHEST TIGHTENED against the burn. I needed a breath, but the blackness sucked me down harder and farther away from oxygen. I could see her, but I couldn’t reach her. The black hole kept pulling us both deeper. Chloe! No!

  I bolted up, clutching a hand to my chest. Ripping the blanket off my body, I jumped out of bed. My heaving breaths and the panic welling up inside gripped my heart, my pulse racing. I gasped for air, feeling my knees start to buckle beneath me. All I could think about was the point in my dream where I started to lose consciousness, drifting down into the darkness. I swallowed hard against the ache in the back of my throat.

  My legs felt like dead weight as I stumbled to the sink. I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with water. Taking a few quick gulps, I let the water stream down my face, but the feeling of panic didn’t disappear easily. I stood upright, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The sour taste in my mouth from the bile that had risen to the back of my throat was still there. You’re okay. Just breathe.

  I took several cleansing breaths, even though my throat felt thick. My head tingled with prickly heat, but the pressure on my chest started to let up. With shaky hands, I grabbed a towel and dried my face.

  I needed to get the hell out of there. And quick.

  So I brushed my teeth, threw on some jeans and a clean T-shirt, and grabbed my backpack. The bookstore opened at ten. I’d try to get there early to avoid the crowd.

  I WAS PERUSING the bookshelves when I saw her walk in—the same girl I’d seen at the party. She was out of breath like she’d been jogging. Her workout clothes and bright pink sneakers gave it away. The messy bun on her head flopped as she walked toward me. I ducked behind a column to avoid being seen.

  She shopped the aisles, grabbing the books that she needed for her classes. “Excuse me,” I heard her ask one of the workers, “Can you tell me where the books for Psych 10 are located?”

  Psych 10? I glanced around. I was standing right in the middle of the psychology section. Shit. Now she was just going to bring her bouncy, bubbly personality into my space. It was too late to try to escape it.

  I turned toward the shelves and pretended to look busy.

  I’D WOKEN UP a little later than I’d wanted that morning. The bookstore opened at ten and I wanted to grab a quick run first and hopefully get there early enough to beat the crowd. Gia was still snoozing peacefully, so I quietly changed into my running clothes and twisted my hair up in a bun. I grabbed my backpack and my earbuds and headed out the door. There was a walking trail around a pond not too far off campus that I thought I’d try to find.

  I set my playlist to shuffle as I headed down the stairwell. I started out slow to warm up a little before breaking into a full jog, but the minute the Black-Eyed Peas blasted through the speakers, my body was pumped and ready to get it started. I tightened the straps of my backpack to keep it from bouncing around too much on my back.

  Before long, I was lost inside my own head, pounding the pavement without a care in the world.

  The bookstore was already packed by the time I got there. So much for getting up early. I walked in the door, tucking my phone and my earbuds into the front pocket of my backpack. People were milling around, crowding the entrance. I skirted past them and made a beeline for the textbooks.

  Conveniently, the guy I’d seen at the party last night was standing right beside of the Psych 10 books. And conveniently, I’d have to face him, while I was sweating buckets and my hair was a wreck after my three-mile run. He was hunched over, looking at some books on the lower shelf, so I hoped he wouldn’t actually see me.

  My eyes scanned the Psych 10 shelf as I tried to avoid him, but I couldn’t help but notice the vintage Rites of Spring shirt he was wearing. I had to stifle a gasp. What I would give for a Rites of Spring T-shirt! Rites of Spring was the last album I needed to complete my early screamo music collection. A T-shirt would be the icing on the cake.

  Just as I was admiring the faded print on his back, he glanced up at me. Those sharp blades of hair parted, and his shockingly blue eyes caught my gaze. His startling stare caused me to drop the book I’d been holding. Shit! I scrambled to retrieve it, but he grabbed it before I could and stood up.

  Towering over me, he flicked his hair out of his face a little and held the book out to me. His lip twitched. Not cracking a smile, just a tiny blip of his lip like a… scowl, maybe? His eyes transfixed on mine beneath the veil of dark locks.

  Mortified, a tingling crept up the back of my neck as I reached out to take the book back from him. “Sorry, I just… um… thanks…” I stammered, sounding like an idiot. My ears felt hot and I prayed I wasn’t beet red. I hoped no one else had noticed our awkward exchange.

  With a quick nod, he jerked his glare away from me. I felt the urge to bolt, to get the hell out of there before I further embarrassed myself. Instead, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah… well, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” I said as my eyes glanced toward the cash registers, searching for the shortest line.

  I spun on my heel and high-tailed it out of there. Talk to you later? Well, that was genius. I could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my head, but I refrained from turning around to get another look at him, as much as I wanted to, because getting one more look at that Rites of Spring shirt was awfully tempting.

  LOOKING AT A map of the campus, I found a shortcut back to my dorm. The textbooks were heavy on my back, so I decided to head that way. I had just made the final turn toward my building when I heard a male voice calling behind me, “Excuse me?”

  I turned around and saw a guy on a bike coming up fast behind me. I moved to the side, so he could pass. Rather than go around me, he skidded to a stop beside me. His sandy blond hair was matted to his head with sweat.

  Big green eyes caught my gaze. “Could you tell me where the Sigma Upsilon Pi house is? I was thinking it was on Fraternity Row, but I can’t seem to find it,” he said, glancing nervously at his watch as if he were running late f
or something.

  I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I’d just been there last night for the party, and I remembered passing by every house on Fraternity Row before turning onto… what was the name of that street again?

  “Oh yeah,” I nodded, “It’s just around the corner from Fraternity Row. If you take a right on Chestnut, I think that’s the name of the road, it’s the second house on the left. Near the planetarium.”

  Something about his gazing eyes and wide smile was a little unnerving. I was instantly taken back to the night in Southside my freshman year of high school. That creep, Deuce, had the same bizarre look in his eyes when his inappropriate flirting had gotten completely out of hand. I’d realized the malicious intentions behind Deuce’s expression just a moment too late—the moment he’d cornered me in a back bedroom. I would never forget the heat of his breath in my face or the feel of his calloused hands on my shoulders. I shuddered, trying to shake off the unpleasant memory.

  The stranger thanked me and took off down the sidewalk on his bike. I watched his tan backpack bounce on his back until he turned the corner, out of sight.

  “HUGE PARTY AT the lake, the weekend before Fall Break. You in?” Gia asked me the minute I walked into our dorm room. She sat on her bed, still in her pajama pants and tank top. A rat’s nest of hair was piled high on her head, secured by a pencil.

  I hung my backpack over my desk chair. “Definitely,” I declared, smiling. “I bet Ian will come down that weekend, too.”

  “Ian? Boyfriend back home?” she asked, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open.