Beatrice Baker's Secret

Chapter One

Beatrice Baker was not having a good day. She had forgotten her math homework, failed her chemistry test, and worst of all, the one and only Lillian Tayler had laughed at her. As soon as her bus arrived at her stop, she ran inside, and slammed the door. Storming into her room, she finally allowed herself to cry, dropping her backpack on the floor and collapsing onto her bed.

The room was pretty much a dungeon, despite Bea's mom's best efforts to make it cheery. There wasn't much furniture, simply her bed and a rickety desk that was decorated with a vase of artificial sunflowers that her mom refused to let her throw out. Bea closed her eyes tight, and let the tears flow down her cheeks. With a purr, her chubby rag-doll cat emerged from under the bed, plopping herself down on Bea's stomach.

"Hey Daisy," Bea said with a small smile. Her voice was raspy from underuse, it was the first thing she had said all day. The cat sniffed her owner's face, tickling her nose with her whiskers. Bea laughed, wiping the last tears from her misty eyes. "It was a really bad day, Dais," the girl mumbled, her voice still sore. Daisy seemed to understand, and nuzzled Bea's face, before settling down for a nap on her stomach. She sighed deeply and stood up, earning an indignant look from the cat who was expecting snuggle time. "Sorry Daisy, I have homework," Bea said, steadying herself with the post of the bed. She made her way to the bathroom, silently glad that her mother had taken another late shift, and she wouldn't have to encounter her until she had recovered from the day. 

Holding onto the counter for support, Bea stared into the mirror, surprised how puffy her eyes were. She must have cried more than she thought. Splashing some cold water on her face, the girl took a deep breath, preparing herself for the afternoon of work. She ran a comb through her puffy, black hair, but gave up after a few minutes of attempting to tame it. She was still dizzy from the anxiety-filled day, so she grabbed a can of soda from the kitchen, Daisy at her heels, before settling back down at her desk. Only as she pulled out the folders of work from her backpack did she realize the sheer amount she had to do. 

Bea buried her head in her hands, trying to hold back the tears of frustration. How was she supposed to do all of this? She was already exhausted from the day, and all she wanted was to collapse on her bed with a book. Her head was pounding and her heartbeat began to speed up as she tried to decide where to start, tears dropping onto the work despite her best efforts to hold them in. Bea cried a lot, if you couldn't tell, but she would never let anyone find out. Anyone except for Daisy, that is, who was already rubbing comfortingly against her girl's legs. Settling on the math homework, to get it out of the way, she pulled out the packet that she was supposed to have started a week ago. She flipped through the pages, only growing more panicked. She had so much to do, and she didn't understand any of it. Frustrated, she scrunched the work into a ball, and tossed it into the metal trash can at the foot of her bed. She would have to 'forget the work at home' again. Another zero would hardly make a difference anyway, she was already failing.

After a few hours of work, Beatrice Baker was well and truly done. She had finished an essay for english, though she wasn't satisfied with it, and she had completed a chemistry worksheet, though she was sure she had every answer wrong. 'oh well,' she thought, 'there's always the participation credit.' Finally letting herself relax, ignoring the mountain of work that was left unfinished, the girl collapsed onto the bed once again. She had planned to read some of the book her class was working on, hoping to get ahead, but she fell asleep the moment that her head hit the pillow. She wasn't woken up until her mom arrived home, several hours later.

"Hi Bea," she said with a sigh, shaking her daughter awake. "Did you finish your work?"

"Yeah," Bea lied, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

"Actually?" Her mother demanded, hope flickering in her eyes. She nodded, cringing at the lie. Bea's mom smiled, proud of her daughter. This only made Bea feel worse. "Did you manage to talk to anyone today?" she asked, looking at her daughter expectantly. Bea didn't see much reason to lie.

"Nope," she admitted, burying her head in her pillow. 

"Oh," her mom said with a sigh, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Well, maybe we can try again tomorrow."

Bea nodded, knowing that she definitely wouldn't. She hated how her mom always said we would try, she couldn't possibly know what it felt like to have words stuck in her throat. The feeling wasn't something she could adequately describe, it was almost as if her vocal chords were paralyzed by anxiety. From her research online, Bea suspected that she might have selective mutism, but she had never voiced these suspicions to her mom. She had no doubt that her mother would just sigh and give her a long talk about how she was just shy, and she would grow out of it soon. This would probably be followed by a faux inspirational story about how she was shy as a child, and now she was far more comfortable with public speaking. Bea had heard it a million times, and it never made the words come out. 

Tired and frustrated, Beatrice Baker forced herself to eat some dinner, and took an early night, dreaming that she had a friend.