Melody had not been prepared for the transition to Dowagiac Middle School. After her first two weeks, she was unhappy with everything and concluded there was no greater hell than sixth grade. She now had four teachers, Mrs. Rector for English, Mister Hunt for Social Studies, Mrs. Hamilton for math, and Miss Dauber for science. She did not like any of them. Mrs. Rector was tall, intimidating, and very unfriendly. She was an older woman who always wore her hair in a Victorian-era type bun and seemed to have a never-ending supply of knit sweaters to wear every day. Melody had always done well in English, so she planned to do her assignments with as little interaction with Mrs. Rector as possible. Mister Hunt looked like a Vegas lounge lizard, complete with bad toupee, and he gave her the creeps. His teaching method consisted of poorly executed stand-up comedy routines or presenting outdated, educational films produced by the BBC. Mrs. Hamilton was terrible and never answered questions. Melody quickly realized she would have to teach herself basic algebra with help from her father. Miss Dauber, however, was the worst of the bunch. Miss Dauber was not only Melody’s science teacher, but her home room teacher as well. She was a very attractive woman in her mid-twenties and seemed to be very popular with both students and teachers alike. For reasons unknown, Miss Dauber did not like Melody. From the start, there was tension between them, and Melody would eventually give up trying to get on her good side. She stopped raising her hand to answer questions and never volunteered. As Melody did her best to maintain a low profile and work quietly, Miss Dauber continued to single her out with derogatory statements. Unwilling to go to her parents about her problem, Melody became withdrawn as she put up her walls in self-defense.
Transitioning from recess to Physical Education was a big adjustment for Melody. Her parents had to purchase gym uniforms that she considered hideous. Unfortunately, ugly uniforms were the least of her problems in gym. Melody did not want to change in front of other girls in the locker room and was horrified when she saw the shower facility. It was an open area with cream colored tile and thirty evenly spaced showerheads. Each shower had an aluminum soap dish, a towel hook, and a single knob to turn the water on and control the temperature. There were no partitions or curtains for any type of privacy. The thought of standing naked in a group shower with other girls gave Melody overpowering anxiety. She was not ready for such a thing, and sadly, there was much more she had not been ready for.
The middle school was much larger than her elementary school and she did not see anyone from last year. Familiar faces were all in different classes, with different teachers. Also, Melody could not believe how her new classmates treated each other, and her. In elementary school, everyone seemed to get along, but middle school was a whole new world where all the rules changed. Like-minded children gravitated toward each other to form cliques. Students who belonged to one of these tightly knit social groups were safe, but someone who did not belong, or had trouble fitting in, was singled out, picked on, and bullied. In Dowagiac Middle School hierarchy, the rich kids sat on top of the pyramid. They were the most popular and admired. Rich kids would only associate with each other and carefully chosen upper middle-class kids who met their standards. Enemies of the rich kids were the farm kids. They outnumbered the rich kids and because of this, were safe. They were not picked on for their overalls and work boots, but the “richies” took every opportunity to remind the “farmies” that their place was beneath them. Black students stuck together whether they were rich, poor, farmers, or middle class. Shortly after school started, Melody saw racial tension for the first time and the concept was new to her. Melody witnessed black and white students call each other horrible names and occasionally fight. Students who did not belong to a specific race, ethnic group, or class, eventually formed their own units for protection. This new social structure took Melody by surprise. It was as if the entire student body had held a meeting during the summer without inviting her.
On her first day of sixth grade, Melody had been cruelly mocked by new girls, and even some boys, who wasted no time finding victims to pick on. It was immediately made clear to her that her hair was not right, and neither were her clothes. In elementary school, Melody paid very little attention to fashion or what was in style. She just wore whatever her mother bought for her. Now, she had to survive in a world where clothes meant everything. Her plain pocket blue jeans were subject of ridicule by girls who wore Jordache or Calvin Klein. Blouses and dresses from Goodwill or thrift stores were not good enough either. Her rich and popular classmates wore clothes from shopping malls that came with expensive price tags. Melody was at a loss upon discovering sixth-grade survival depended solely on her wardrobe. She was laughed at for having a Strawberry Shortcake backpack and Care Bear notebooks, because they were for babies. They even laughed at the same black, round-topped lunch box that she had used for three years. In the girls’ room she read disgusting things that had been written in the stalls and heard girls tell jokes she did not understand.
Like any normal eleven-year-old, Melody wanted to fit in. She had no desire to be the most popular girl in school; Melody simply wanted a few friends she could depend on when insults were directed towards her. At first, she thought some new clothes would help. When she had shopped with her mother over summer vacation, Melody had no idea what she was supposed to wear, now she did. When she finally built up the courage to ask her mother for a pair of Jordache jeans and why, her mother shamed her.
“Honestly, Melody,” her mother scorned. “Clothes do not make friends. Your father works hard, and this family is not about to pay fifty dollars for a pair of dungarees that you will outgrow before Christmas. How could you ask for such a thing?”
Melody did not want to start an argument she had no way of winning. Though she had tried to explain to her mother on more than one occasion how school life was, it fell on deaf ears. The more Melody pleaded her case, the less her mother seemed to understand. Barbara’s homespun wisdom still made sense at home, but in the harsh middle school world, it was useless. Melody assumed her mother either forgot, or never knew, what it was like to stand alone and face nasty girls. Melody was going to have to get through this year on her own. Her mother would be no help to her.
Next, Melody tried to find other students who were in the same boat as her, singled out and alone. Time after time she failed. She could not make friends in class, at gym, or even at the bus stop. It seemed the loners chose to be that way and wanted nothing to do with her. Melody tried to be friendly, and social, but was either ignored or ridiculed. One Friday, in early October, after gym class, Melody saw a golden opportunity to make a friend, but it went terribly wrong. She saw it as another failure on her part.
Melody hated taking showers after gym but learned early on it was better to shower than face the consequences. A girl who would not shower would get dragged through the locker room and be held under a showerhead as hot water poured down on her. Sometimes the victim would get her hair pulled, her arms pinched, or worst of all, get her bottom snapped with a wet towel. To avoid this, Melody would quickly run into the shower with her towel wrapped tightly around her and find the first available spot. She dreaded putting the towel on the hook, but after she did, she would not turn away from the wall. She would nervously lather and rinse as quickly as she could while keeping her eyes squeezed shut. It was only on this Friday she had opened her eyes in the shower for the first time.
A sudden commotion startled her. A girl was screaming and pleading to be left alone while three farm girls, much bigger than her, held her under hot water. They called the crying girl a pig as they pulled her hair. The girls then took turns spitting water in her face as they ordered her to make pig sounds. “Say oink, you little bitch,” the biggest girl demanded.
The trio pinched and tormented her until the poor girl surrendered. Hoping for mercy, the girl oinked. This only made the farm girls laugh. The biggest girl, who Melody knew well and was afraid of, placed the palm of her hand on the girl’s forehead and used her thumb to turn up the girl’s nose.
“You’re a pig! Look at your little snout!” she snarled.
With that, she knocked the girl down and walked away while her two cohorts followed close behind. Melody shut off her water and waited for the girls to be out of sight. When the coast was clear, Melody wrapped her towel around herself and ran to the shower entrance. She then grabbed a clean towel from the bin and returned to the girl.
The girl had not shut the water off, but was sitting off to the side, trying to cover herself as best she could. Melody could see tears rolling down her cheeks, but whether they came from rage, embarrassment, or pain, she would never know. Melody squatted down and handed her the towel.
“It’s OK,” she said. “They’re gone now.”
Melody had hoped her gesture would finally earn her the friend she so badly wanted, but instead the girl reacted unexpectedly. She snatched the towel from Melody’s hand and screamed at her.
“Get away from me! Just get away from me!”
Melody took her by the arm and tried to help her stand up, but the girl refused her assistance and instead threw a punch at Melody with her free hand. “I said get away from meeeeeeeeeee!”
Shocked, Melody turned and left the girl where she was. Upon reaching her locker, Melody quickly dried herself off and got dressed. Her upper arm hurt from where the girl had hit her, and she wondered if it would leave a bruise that she would have to explain to her mother. After tying her shoes and donning her backpack, Melody ran toward the exit and threw her own wet towel into the large bin just before going out the door. She then proceeded down the sidewalk to get in line with the other girls as they waited for the bell to ring. Melody was last in line and never saw the girl from the shower leave the gym. She wondered how long the girl would stay in there by herself. Gym was the last class of the day, so if the girl did not leave soon, she would miss her bus. Melody then wondered if the girl walked, rode a bicycle, or got a ride from her mother. The bell finally rang, but by this time, Melody was lost in her thoughts as she marched in line to the school bus staging area.
Melody hoped the girl would never tell her parents or teachers what had happened if she knew what was good for her. Melody had already seen too many fights caused by snitching, and the student who did the telling, always lost. Melody knew, as every student knew, to take her lumps and remain silent. Telling a teacher only made things worse. If you were bullied, your friends were the only ones who could save you. If you had no friends, you fended for yourself as best you could. Melody climbed the steps of bus 138, glad to be done with another week.
By November, Melody had given up trying to make friends. She had grown weary of reaching out to people who wanted nothing to do with her. Though still puzzled why she could not find acceptance, she assumed the role of a misfit, even among the other outcasts. Melody now felt awkward, was too self-conscious, and became shy as she turned inward. Wherever she walked, she kept her head down and held her books defensively against her chest. Melody’s only joy in life was the happiness that skateboarding provided, but with the cold weather and ice-covered sidewalks coming, even that would be taken away from her. By the time winter vacation did roll around, Melody had completely changed. She was moody and became reclusive at home, preferring to be by herself in her room. She would not make conversation and answered questions glumly with a simple yes or no. Her parents became concerned and were at a loss for this change in behavior. Melody did not become rude or rebellious, she was simply sad. There was always a dark cloud hovering over her head as her parents tried to get through to her. She didn’t want to help her mother in the kitchen anymore, she stopped singing in church, and stayed in her room on Sundays while her father watched sports without her. The Melody her parents knew had disappeared. Finally, an opportunity came that Barbara took advantage of, her daughter’s first period.
***
Melody was upstairs in her room changing out of her church clothes. As she reached for a faded pair of blue jeans, something felt wrong. She looked down and saw stains on her inner thighs and felt the warm stickiness of blood. She ran to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and began screaming for her mother. Barbara soon appeared in the doorway after bounding up the stairs. For months she had been mentally preparing for this moment and was glad it happened at home. Barbara spent the afternoon in Melody’s room and instructed her better than her own mother had, hoping for a bonding moment her daughter would remember. Barbara also listened as Melody opened up and talked about her problems at school. In turn, Barbara told Melody how it was when she was her age and admitted things were certainly different now. The more they talked; Barbara found herself wondering if she could survive the times today at Melody’s age. Although Melody did not tell her mother everything, Barbara learned enough to respect Melody’s situation and promised to listen from now on.
Melody was also grateful her first ‘curse’ happened at home. She had seen girls get permission to go to the nurse’s office and not return to class until the next day. Melody thought out scenarios about getting her first period in class, in gym, or at church, and shuddered. She thanked God she had been safe at home with her mother when it happened. Melody had heard girls talking in the restrooms, giggling about other girls who were not so lucky. As if she did not have enough trouble at school, Melody did not need her name to be among those gossiped about.
At the dinner table that evening, Douglas said nothing. He was not even sure if he was supposed to say anything. After a quiet meal, Melody asked her father if she could watch the late game with him. Together, they sat in the living room, watched the Patriots play the Raiders, and talked again just as they always had. Melody asked her father where he had traveled the previous week and if he had seen anything interesting. Douglas asked his daughter how school was and if she was still managing to get through algebra. That night, Melody went to bed thankful for her parents.
***
Before the new year, Melody did make a friend, many friends, although not the type she expected. A Christmas gift from her father opened a whole new world to her. It was the last gift she had opened; a poorly wrapped package, wedged against the wall, behind the tree. Douglas was a kind, loving, and talented man, but wrapping paper and scotch tape always got the best of him. As her father handed the last present to her, Melody could tell he had wrapped it himself while on the road. She removed the loose-fitting paper and gasped at what her father had gotten for her. It was a large, black portable stereo with AM/FM radio, duel cassette decks, and detachable speakers on either end. Kids at school called them “boom boxes” or “ghetto blasters”. Upon further examination, Melody saw that one speaker’s mesh covering was dented in, and there was a crack on the radio dial display. Plastered on the side of the right speaker was a sticker which read, “Hank’s BBQ - Best Pulled Pork in Amarillo”. Melody knew her father had found it at a pawn shop but didn’t care. She flung her arms around her father’s neck and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. She had wanted one, but never asked. Somehow, without explanation, her father knew.
“Just keep the rock-n-roll at a reasonable volume,” Douglas laughed. “Don’t blast your mother out of the house.”
Melody now had something to keep her company on cold snowy afternoons as her unused skateboard leaned against the wall. The radio had a long, extendable antenna that could pick up all the big radio stations out of Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids. She discovered “Car Talk” on the local NPR station, and listened to a weather station that reported from all over the country, including Florida. She also found a sports station on an AM setting that kept her up to date on the latest sports news. Above all, Melody loved the music.
Casey Kasem’s weekly American Top 40 became essential listening. Melody had discovered The Cars, Blondie, Pat Benatar, Culture Club, and The Talking Heads. She loved “Whip It” by DEVO, and “Mickey” by Toni Basil. Melody took an interest in music during a very exciting time. For the rest of her life, Melody would love and cherish the music from the 1980s, from superstars like Michael Jackson and Madonna, to one hit wonder acts who quietly disappeared after releasing a Top 10 single. Her tastes would expand, especially during high school, but for now, pop singles and Top 40 satisfied her. With music, Melody’s attitude changed, and her mother noticed. With a heart full of songs, Melody found a way to cope with all the negativity thrown at her throughout the school day. Eventually, The Police became her favorite band.
Soon, Melody began asking her mother for blank cassette tapes so she could record her favorite songs off the radio. Once she figured out how to do this, Melody built a much beloved music collection. Although the songs Melody recorded would usually include the DJ speaking well into the introduction, she did not mind. Melody paid more attention to the lyrics than the music. When a cassette was full, she broke off the little tabs so the tape could not be accidentally erased. Melody made mix-tapes that included Huey Lewis and the News, U2, Duran Duran, and The Eurythmics, while other tapes were reserved for certain bands. She had a tape just for The Police, another one for Journey, and still another for Hall & Oates.
It was the radio that provided Melody with the friends she so desperately needed that year. The artists sang about feelings that Melody was just beginning to understand. Some songs were sad but made Melody happy to know others felt as she did. She could feel a bond with these singers and musicians who somehow knew exactly what she was going through and it gave her a sense of belonging. As the bullies, mean farm girls, and even Miss Dauber became irrelevant, Melody was happy again and no longer felt alone. The stereo Douglas found for his daughter at a flea market in DeSoto, Texas, was the perfect gift that saved Melody from continuing down a dark path of depression.
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