Beck 1

Averi Beck
Mrs.Rutan
AP Literature and Composition
17 November 2016
The Unheard Cacophony
Saturday 7:30 am
An early morning person I am not, however this weekends volleyball tournament at
Lakeview called for an alarm set at dawn. Groggy, grumpy, and still half asleep, I sluggishly
dragged my way into the wide open gym. The muggy air felt thick and sticky, not to mention
warm enough to slowly lull me back into a standing doze. Can you sleep with your eyes open? I
was about to try.
However, right when this warm lullaby was about to hush me into complacency, I was
jolted from the calm by the wavering screech of a referee whistle.
Shattered eardrums-- time for warm up.
Half of the team crawled their way to the endline, while the other half-- somehow wide
eyed and energetic-- jogged with more enthusiasm and bounce than an 80s workout video. What
are they on? I pulled myself to a full stance.
5 half court sprints. Go!

8:00 am
Game time.

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I peered around into the ocean of spectators for friends, family, or anyone familiar face. There
she was, sitting front row, with her glasses balanced precariously on top of her frizzy red hair.
Hi mom as she sat grinning ear to ear, so proud of her baby girl. The piercing up and down
squeak of the whistle ripped me from my train of thought and plummeted me, full force, into the
game.
Serve. Bump. Set. Spike.
Dig. Set. Spike.
The repetitive motion of the game had begun. The ball crashed down onto the bare arms of
back row players, and lightly kissed the fingers of others; it was a mesmerizing back-and-forth.
After an hour of this competitive dance, the contest had come to an end. Victory.
The applause from the crowd was vigorous. Almost thunderous. The grin spanning my
mother's face seemed to beam even brighter.

9:25 am
With one game down, the team shuffled back into the echoing cafeteria. Too early for breakfast,
not late enough for lunch, we sat with eyes fixed on the food covered table.
There was an interruption to the foo gawking. *buzz, buzz*
My brother had finally woken up from his nine hour slumber. His muffled voice sounded even
more groggy on the phone, as his videogame-hangover tried to cajole him back to bed. He
couldn't have woken up on time for the tournament; are brothers ever on time? At least he was
awake now, and claimed that he was ready to add a new face to the crowd of observers.
He only missed the first game. No big deal. He will be here soon.

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I will go get him, said my mom.

And without another word, she snatched up her purse, shoveled all of her belongings into the
various pockets that were already bursting through the zippers, and walked out of the gym. So
much dishevelment, but so much grace-- a walking dichotomy.
There was no goodbye, no see you later. Just here, and then gone. She would miss the
next game. but I supposed I could forgive her.

10:00 am
Game time.
The same repetition. The same back and forth. The same shrieking whistle.
I looked up into the stands and surveyed the noisy crowd. I saw the other team's parents dawning
green and gold, filled with so much pride and angst. I saw coats, hats, and scarves strewn about.
It had been exceptionally cold today. Then my eyes landed on the blue and white-- Harper Creek
parents. My gaze flitted from one face to another. The bleachers were filled with bored fathers,
sleepy siblings, and giddy mothers. But I didn't see my mother. She had been gone a long time...
she has to be on her way back.
Re-focus. I was standing back court, knees bent and palms sweaty. My eyes now fixed on
the ball across the court, lightly resting in the grasp of my opponent. She tossed it up, and it
cascaded over the net.
The game was now in full swing. A continuing blur of back and forth.

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11:15 am
Victory-- 2 down, 2 to go.
With the day half over, everyone started to doze. Muscles were aching, arms were bruised, hazy
eyes were full of clouds. 12 comatose girls shoved strawberries and mac and cheese into their
mouths between the domino effects of yawning.
45 minutes until the next game. That meant 30 minutes until warm up; 30 more minutes to
sit back and relax. Feet up on the table. Eyes shut.

11:45 am
Warm up girls!
It was time to go back to work. Single file, each girl scuffled into the gym like little business
women with stone cold faces, and the highest ambitions.
All of the parents, wide eyed and alert, sat straight up in their seats. Anticipation was
fueling their conversation, and the words began to sound like an energetic buzz flitting about the
room-- but where was my mom in the conversation? Her low and velvety voice wasn't anywhere
to be heard within the scuttle of the crowd. She should have been back now. She has already
missed one game.

Beck 5

12:00
Game time.
I scanned the sea of faces one last time before my shoes hit the court. There were half
asleep siblings, more-than-proud parents, and a few tired grandparents hiding the hard purple
plastic of the bleachers from view; my mothers face still wasn't there.
As I crossed the net and the endline, my mind felt jammed; a million thoughts were all
screaming at me, trying to be heard. I tried to grasp any circumstance that would keep her away
from me for this.
Screeeeeeech!
There was no time to wonder. The referee's piercing whistle jolted me from my thoughts.
I had to push this out of my mind. Here we go again.

1:45 pm
No answer.
I leaned up against a locker in the hallway and stared down at the dingy tiled floor. The cracks
infecting the aged linoleum seemed to form a road map. There were twists and turns, dead ends,
and even little road blocks made of dust and gumwrappers.
Please leave your message after the beep. The cold and unsettling answering machine
took in the message that was meant for my mom.
Hi mom, you missed two games. I was just wondering when you will be back with Brenner.
Call me back. Love you.
*ring ring*

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Each unanswered vibrating tone made my stomach sink further and further into my body. My
mind suddenly began to feel dizzy. Was the room spinning, or was it just me?
Hello? answered my seemingly unworried brother.
Hey Bren! Are you with mom?
No? Isn't she with you?
I closed my eyes as small tears began to emerge as an effort to squint the water back inside.
Oh.. I'll call you back

1:50 pm
First call.
Second call.
Third call.
No answer. No call. No text. No response.
Where is she?

2:50 pm
Ten minutes to the final game. The crowd began to reassemble as I stood out in the dimly
lit hallway, face pressed against the cold glass on the outside door. Each second on the nearby
clock ticked louder, and louder, until the mumbles voices behind me were completely drown out,
and the only thing I could hear was its ominous thud thud, as it vibrated my thoughts-thoughts of my mom.

Beck 7

Despite all efforts, my mind couldn't focus on anything else. Tunnel vision had
completely sunk in, and I couldn't seem to find the light at the end. I just kept waiting to hear
from her. I was waiting for
*ring ring*
A phone call.
But it wasn't my phone. It came from behind me. One of the parents reached into their
back pocket and pulled out their phone. I tried to read the number on the screen but it was too far
away. As my eyes strained themselves, desperately trying to comprehend the symbols on the
screen, my mind began to race. Blood rushed between my ears and I could feel my pulse in my
temples trying to pound itself out of my head. My thoughts were about to be escorted out of
unknowingness, but perhaps not for the better.
Hello, Mike?....yes, I am with her. oh no. is she okay?
My stomach hit my throat and was scratching its way up and out through my mouth.
Okay, I will tell her. Thank you
What was that about? Why would she not be okay?
Averi, that was your dad. He told me about your mom.
He took the sleeve of his shirt and began to gently rub the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. Each
back and forth motion seemed more intentional than the last-- more urgent.
So honey, she has been in an accident. He didn't want me to worry you, but she is in the
hospital. That's all I know sweetie. I'm so sorry.

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3:00 pm
I sat on the bench in utter disbelief; the pools in my eyes began to spill over onto my
cheeks. Each one slowly rolled down my skin, until it was clutching to my jawline, and finally
pulled to the ground. Never before had I felt so abandoned and alone. Each painful breath
seemed to echo through my chest, as though it had been hollowed out.
I was empty.
This hollow feeling seemed to not only envelope my body, but my mind as well. The
millions of scribbled ideas cluttering my head had been erased, and the constant cacophony of
thoughts that fought for a position in my consciousness had been hushed.
Everything had gone blank....
everything had gone blank.

3:05 pm
The game started with a piercing whistle, but I was still frozen in my squeaky chair near
the edge of the court-- motionless, silent, alone.

4:35 pm
My coach gently tapped my shoulder, and motioned towards center court. Each team had
lined up under the net and were shaking hands. I had been so clouded and detached from reality
that I hadnt even noticed the end of the game, not to mention the score. Did we win? I was
unsure, but at that point I didn't really care.

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An echo of good game filled the room, along with the cringeworthy squeaks of shoes
scuffing the freshly waxed floors. Once again, I found myself staring at the faces in the crowd. It
was as if part of me still hoped that I would see that quirky smile, and friendly freckles. And
although I knew it was incredibly naive, I felt my heart sink a little bit deeper when I didn't see
my mom hiding within the sea of blue and white fans.

4:50 pm
My brain had turned on autopilot. Almost as if in a trance, I began preparing myself for
the car ride home.
Grab the bag, take off your kneepads, put on your sweatpants, out the door. Out the door
to see mom. Out the door out the door.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in my friends car headed home. I clutched the strap of the
seat belt with white knuckles and the polyester edges jabbed into the side of my hand. All I could
do now was sit and stare out the window, watching the cars fly by. Every one that whizzed past
the smudged window gave me a shiver. I had never looked at other vehicles as such a threat
before. I was confused, alert, and genuinely scared.
What was my mom thinking right before the accident
I had already muttered the words before I had time to process them myself. I wanted to grab the
sentence in the air and pull it back into my mouth. Back into my mind.
No one uttered a sound. No one even moved a muscle. I already felt alone, and this just
plummeted myself deeper and deeper into my shell. I was being ignored. However, for once in

Beck 10

my like I was glad to have garnered no attention. Afterall, that was one question that I didn't
think that I really want to ever know the answer too.

5:05 pm
The old minivan was not built for Michigan potholes. It bobbed and swerved as it
maneuvered through the minefield of asphalt divots. This motion usually made me sick, however
my stomach was already in knots, and my face ghost pale, so I don't think anyone would have
noticed the difference.
I began to count down the mailboxes until we got to my driveway; my heart beat
hastened pace with every house passed.
That was the Turners house. Four mailboxes left.
I rubbed the back of my neck with my palms in an effort to listen my muscles, or maybe calm
some nerves.
One more house. Three left.
I could now feel my heartbeat. It was tapping on the inside of my ribcage, like a small child
begging for attention.
Two mailboxes left.
One mailbox left.
The small tapping had now turned into a full on punch as my heart tried to escape from my chest.
The puls was surging through my whole body. I could now feel the blood rushing through my
veins more clearly than I felt my lungs expand with every shallow breath. I hadnt heard from

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anyone in my family since I learned of the accident. I had no idea what I would be coming home
to.

5:08 pm
I stood at the door completely still, collecting my thoughts. This simple saturday had
turned into a bad dream and I was about to discover if I got to wake up or not. With one turn of a
door knob, I would be forced to face the events of the day, regardless of its ending. My thin and
shaky fingers grabbed the gold doorknob, and twisted it open. With every little creak of the
hinges my stomach twisted tighter and tighter.
I kept my face pointed down at the chestnut wood floors as I took my first few steps
inside. There were no sounds other than the deep booming voice of the news anchor on the tv,
and even that was turned down to a hushed volume. When I finally got the courage to take my
gaze from my feet, I was met with my brother sitting in the living room. The top of his head
barely peaked over the tan couch; his frizzy brown hair looked as if it hadnt been brushed all
day. Sitting next to him, hunched over onto his shoulder, was another head. Peaking out of a gray
and black hat were little wisps of red hair, along with a pair of glasses perched on the crown of
the head. My eyes had been searching all day, and they had finally found her.
Mom!, I screamed as I burst out in tears.
I ran over to the couch and hugged her from the shoulders up, absorbing the warmth of
her skin and feeling the rhythmic beat of her heart. When I let go, I could see that her arm was in
a sling, and she had bandages around her waist and shoulder-- she was still smiling.
She is okay.

Beck 12

Mr.Barnes told dad that you girls won all three games. Im so proud of you sweetie.
She took my hand in hers and I clutched it with every muscle that I had. All I could do was sit on
the couch and cry tears of relief. Just being able to see my moms face again made me feel like
the luckiest girl in the world. In that moment I swore that I would never take that face for granted
again.
To this day, when it comes to searching for faces in a crowd, hers is always the one that
I hope to find.