Savoring Silence

#1: Plans

"Luna, dear, don't play with your food." My mother gave me a pointed look, her pencil-thin eyebrows raised and her red lipstick-covered lips pursed. I would have sighed, but I don't make noise. 

Just to let you know, I choose not to speak. It creates too many complications and drama, I've learned over the years. I haven't spoken since I was nine. I'm 17 now.

My parents seem to think it's some mental problem, or I've gone emo internally (I don't dress like an emo, thank God).  I know that people secretly talk about me behind my back, but it doesn't matter. I'm waiting for the moment I get the chance, and I'm out of here.

I blankly stared at my spaghetti as I rolled the saucy meatballs around with my fork, not making any sound. I decided I didn't want to hear Mother run her mouth any longer, so I stabbed a meatball and shoved it into my mouth with a sense of victory and a sauce-covered grin. Sometimes I like to imagine my food is my parents, or someone else I dislike. I just ate my annoying mother.

My father grunted and looked up at my mother, meeting her eyes. They turned to me, with a serious look.

"Luna, go to your room. Your father and I have to talk." My mother chirped, with her annoyingly high-pitched chipmunk voice.

I slammed my fork down onto my now empty plate, and reluctantly got up, rolling my eyes and heading toward the stairs. Mother made a comment how rude I was acting, which made me grin and roll my eyes again.

I step up a few steps, then sit on the staircase, out of my parents' view, and placed my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands.

"This is getting ridiculous, Tina!" My father said in a sharp whisper. "She doesn't make a damn noise!"

"Now, Tom --"

"Don't 'now, Tom' me. Something has to be done about her." He paused for a moment and I listened intently, my eyes wide. "People are talking."

"People, Tom?" My mother said, quizzically. "Like whom?"

"Like Abigail Bresworth, down the street --"

"Abigail Bresworth is an old, crazy hag, Tom! You know that!" My mother said harshly.

"They think she's a demon or something, Tina. A demon!"  

My mother hushed him loudly, desperate to keep the volume down.

"Lower your tone!" She whispered frantically. "Do you want her to hear?"

"We have to send her somewhere. Away from here."

There was a long silent pause, my heart beating quickly and my breath staggering and shaking in fear. They want to send me away? If you ask me, I'll say my number one wish is to get away from my parents, but... I felt hurt. They didn't want me.

"What?!" My mother almost screamed. I winced. "Are you serious?! You're thinking about sending our daughter away -- our daughter, Tom! Listen to what you're saying!"

"I am listening, Tina." He said quietly, "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I already have a place picked out," He paused for a few moments, then spoke. "Bridgeton High. It's a boarding school about three hours away in Bridgeton."

There was yet another long silence, and it seemed that my mother was considering it.

"Only three hours?" She said. I couldn't believe my ears. My parents were planning to send me three hours away, just to find comfort and be in the social circle again. Popularity -- that's all they wanted.

But if they really didn't want me, so be it.