These Violent Delights

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume."

-Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI.

Under any other circumstance, Estelle would have screamed for help. But she had lost her voice a long time ago. It wasn't that she was incapable of speaking, or born mute. It wasn't that she had a temper tantrum and would not speak until she got this or that. The truth was that a voice was a part of her that was unused to the extent where her brain found that it was not needed anymore. Yes, Estelle's voice was there, hidden among the things she used to do; play among the other children, laugh until her stomach hurt, slurp ice cream and sodas, and spend long hours swimming in the pool with friends until her fingers were rough and wrinkly. Not only had she "forgotten" to speak, but it seemed now that she had also forgotten to smile.

****

Estelle was only half-listening as the monotone drawl of Mr. Estor droned on about the different types of software in a computer. She was uninterested in the subject of technology at her school, for she felt she knew enough about computers to know out what a monitor was or how a keyboard was attached to a computer. To put it simply, Estelle was bored.

She propped her hand up on her chin and stole a glance at the clock. 2:34. Only ten more minutes and she was free from this building of hell. Estelle brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and chewed her lower lip. She looked at the clock again. 2:34. No, now it was 2:35. Time crawled along like a snail with a horrible back problem. Estelle tried to make time go faster. She crossed and uncrossed her pale legs. She chewed her fingernails down to bloody stumps. She bobbed her leg up and down. After what she felt was a considerable length of time, she glanced hopefully at the clock. 2:37. Her face fell. Estelle scanned the classroom for anything to look at that would pass time. Cameron James, two seats to her left, his mouth slightly ajar with drool dribbling down his chin, was taking a nap. On her right Elmer Patterson III was staring, wide-eyed at the teacher, every once in a while gasping and jotting down a couple notes furiously on his notebook. Two seats behind her, Olivia Shcit, who insisted that the "h" in her name was silent and that "if anyone calls me that I will break their necks," was devouring a ham and avocado sandwich at an alarming rate. (The kids did not make fun of her, for her size indicated that she could in fact make that statement come true). In the first row, Mason Carter was looking at May Slew, the stern class president, in a way that made Estelle shudder. Lynn Park, two seats in front of Estelle, was batting her long, carefully blackened lashes at Ferris La' Rue. He was staring intently at his unmarked notebook, occasionally straightening his perfectly round glasses, his face beet red. A group of Giggling girls were to Estelle's right and some Obnoxious boys to her left. Directly in front of Estelle, there was no one. To her immediate left and right, the same. Right behind her, there was also an empty desk.

She was ignored. Left out. Forgotten. Just like her voice.

"....blah blah blah computers blah blah exchange student-"

Two words obviously different from the rest of the monotone drawl of Mr. Estor was causally thrown into the lecture caught the attention of not one but all of the students. The room erupted into a flurry of curiosity and hope. Every one was talking, except Estelle.

"Where is she from?" A boy from the Obnoxious group questioned with a grin.

A Giggling girl huffed. "Not she stupid, he."

The Obnoxious boy rolled his eyes. "How do you know that? She's probably a hot chick from France."

"W-what happened?" Cameron had woken up.