Melody had almost made it through her first month of eighth grade but was already uninterested in school again. Although happy to be in her last year of middle school, she knew nothing really mattered until high school. Melody was tired of being treated like a child. She had seen, or at least heard of, many popular movies about high school life, and wanted to be a part of it. Furthermore, Melody did not believe college selection boards would look at her eighth grade GPA, so she did the bare minimum to get by. She maintained a respectable B average, but hardly applied herself. Melody believed she deserved a break and promised herself to buckle down and throw herself completely into her studies next year as a high school freshman.
Except for wanting to live in Florida, Melody was unsure what she wanted to do with her life. Her mind was constantly juggling random thoughts. She considered the military, as a start, but not a lifelong career like Uncle Frank. She had researched Florida universities, but doubted her parents could afford, or even be willing, to send her to an out of state school. Melody often daydreamed different scenarios during class, like buying a car with money earned from a part-time job and just driving to Florida with no plan at all. She wondered about getting a job at Sea World or working with the Seminoles while attending community college. Spending her life in a lifeguard’s chair at a resort beach was still an attractive possibility. As often as possible, Melody would sit in class and envision herself saving lives while getting an amazing tan. It was hard for Melody to be attentive as one monotonous day dragged into another. She was ready for her real life to begin.
After the bell rang, Melody gathered her things, exited the Social Studies classroom, and made her way down the hall to Mrs. Werner’s English class. English had become Melody’s least favorite subject, but Mrs. Werner certainly made it entertaining. Melody, along with most students, believed Mrs. Werner was out of her mind. She was an average looking, middle aged woman who wore reading glasses on a chain, but her bowl-cut hairdo and poorly tailored, homemade clothing made her stand out. She walked about the room and spoke to the class as if on a stage, playing a part in a Shakespearean play. She over dramatized everything; the way she taught, the way she answered questions, and the way she read aloud. Whenever Mrs. Werner called on a student to recite, she never used the student’s correct name, but made up her own names. Melody herself had been called Tiberius, Malcolm, and even Caesar. Mrs. Werner would sometimes call boys Cleopatra or Antoinette. No one ever complained because Mrs. Werner allowed her students to eat candy and chew gum in class.
Melody walked past Mrs. Werner’s desk, turned, and proceeded down the aisle to her seat. The class had been working their way through ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’, and Melody found her teacher’s interpretations of the book’s simplest events to be ridiculous. To Melody, it was just a story about a poor boy growing up near a river. Melody preferred to read for its own simple pleasure and entertainment, not to dissect each paragraph in an attempt to discover hidden meanings that the author may have been trying to portray in some mysterious cryptic code. Sitting at her desk, Melody sighed, took her worn copy of the book out of her backpack, and placed an open pack of gum on her desk. The bell rang.
Melody looked up to see Mrs. Werner talking to a new student, a tall girl with jet black hair and pale skin. She had light colored eyes and freckles that ran from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. The new girl was wearing very tight blue jeans, black wristbands, a black T-shirt that read “Quiet Riot”, and dilapidated sneakers. Mrs. Werner handed her a copy of Tom Sawyer and pointed to the empty desk right next to Melody. As the girl made her way down the aisle, Melody noticed her silver dangly earrings and dark shade of lipstick. Melody tried not to stare, but the girl was an early bloomer and already had a womanly chest. Without a word, the new girl sat down quietly on the right side of her.
“Class,” Mrs. Werner announced. “We will continue where we left off yesterday. Attila would you please begin?”
The girl, whose name was Rhonda, began reading a paragraph as the class listened and read along silently. When Rhonda finished, the student behind her continued. Eventually, every student in class would read two paragraphs. Tom Sawyer had returned to school after playing pirate, was a hero in the eyes of his classmates, and was purposely making Becky jealous by ignoring her and talking to Amy. Melody paid attention just enough to know the main storyline in order to pass the weekly quiz. She reached for a piece of gum.
A pale hand with black fingernail polish suddenly appeared and lightly tapped on Melody’s desk to get her attention. Melody turned her head and was instantly lost in the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. The deep, sea-green eyes turned toward the pack of gum as their owner nodded her head. Melody intended to give the new girl a piece of strawberry flavored Bubble Yum but instead, her nervous fingers caused the pack of gum to fall off the desk. Melody quickly reached out with her foot to retrieve it.
“Mrs. Roosevelt?” Mrs. Werner called out. “Mrs. Roosevelt, are you paying attention?”
Melody looked up, knowing she was being addressed.
“Yes, Mrs. Werner,” Melody answered.
“What are you doing then?” Mrs. Werner asked as half the class turned her way.
Melody quickly picked the pack of gum off the floor and placed a piece on the new girl’s desk.
“I was just offerin’ her a piece a gum for a chance to do some whitewashin’,” Melody replied innocently in her best Southern accent.
For a moment there was silence. Mrs. Werner tilted her head slightly as in deep thought. Her face went blank as she stared into nothingness. A few students chuckled at the joke. Suddenly, Mrs. Werner returned to reality and slapped her hand down hard on her own desk as if killing a spider. “Yes!” she proclaimed. “You are paying attention! Great Injun Joe! There is no better understanding than your own!”
For a moment, Melody thought Mrs. Werner was going to go off on one of her entertaining, half crazed rants, but instead, she told the class to continue reading. Looking over at the new girl again, Melody saw painted lips smiling mischievously at her.
***
It was lunchtime and Melody sat down at an empty table with her same old black, construction worker lunch box. Students who brought their lunches sat first since they did not have to go through the lunch line. Melody knew her table would fill up quickly with the usual chattering, gossiping kids. She listened to conversations but rarely participated. Melody preferred to eat silently and daydream about her future. It was her favorite time of day because her thoughts could not be interrupted by teachers. Melody had just taken another bite of the roast beef and cheese sandwich her mother had made, when her eyes met a lunch tray being held in front of a familiar black T-shirt..
“Anyone sitting here?” the new girl asked, standing on the opposite side of the table.
With a mouthful of food, Melody shook her head and gave an inviting gesture with her hand. The new girl sat down, seemingly grateful. She opened her milk carton and looked at her lunch with displeasure. She was sure she had seen better looking lasagna.
“I’m Becky,” she said.
After swallowing, Melody answered, “I’m Melody. Melody Mivshek.”
“That name has a ring to it,” Becky said with a smile. “Melody, hmmm are you musical?”
Melody was not sure how to answer, she had never been asked that before. She just spoke the first words that came to her. “I don’t know. I never tried to play anything.” Becky chuckled politely as she picked at her food.
Knowing she was not good at conversation, Melody realized she had to keep this one going before the uncomfortable silence set in. For reasons she could not yet explain, she liked this girl and felt a strong need to be friends with her. Melody reasoned it would be best to ask questions to keep Becky talking. When Becky looked up again, her tranquil, sea-green eyes locked with Melody’s cold, ice-blue eyes. At that moment, both girls were unwittingly enticed in a way they did not understand.
“Are you new here?” Melody asked nervously. “Where are you from?”
“Detroit,” Becky answered. “My step-father had to move. This is such a small town.”
Melody had only been outside of Dowagiac a few times and Grand Rapids was the largest city she had ever seen. Before she had a chance to ask another question, Becky had one of her own. “What do you people do for fun around here?”
“Nothing much,” Melody admitted. “I go skateboarding.”
Becky lit up. “Really? You’re a skater? I never would have guessed. What kind of board you got?”
This was another question Melody had never been asked, and unfortunately did not know. Feeling foolish, she answered, “I’m not sure. It’s red.”
As their conversation continued, Becky took an interest in Melody. The pretty, small-town girl was unpretentious and not out to impress anyone. She could also tell Melody was nervous and not used to talking, which was OK with her. Compared to the people she had known all her life; Melody was different, a breath of fresh air. Becky had been dead set against the idea of moving and cried the day she left Detroit. She missed her school, her small circle of friends, and felt alone in an unfamiliar little town. Becky also knew that in a town like Dowagiac, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Most kids appeared to be preppies or farmers, two crowds she wanted nothing to do with. Becky was a street wise, city kid who could handle anything, except being ostracized.
“I bet you’ll miss going to Tigers and Lions games, huh?” Melody asked.
“Not so much the Lions, but I love the Tigers. Everybody in Detroit loves the Tigers. I’ve never been to a game though.”
“I’d love to go to Detroit and see a football game,” Melody admitted. Her desire to visit the Silverdome in order to see the Buccaneers, however, remained unspoken.
“How are the radio stations here? What do you listen to?” Becky asked, hoping Melody would not say country music.
“Oh, we have a great station!” Melody said with a sudden rush of enthusiasm. “One-oh-five point five plays all the great songs. I listen to it all the time.”
“Like what?”
“They play The Police, Journey, Blondie, The Cars, all the good stuff,” Melody answered with a big grin.
“Oh, that stuff is OK.”
“I guess you listen to Mo-Town huh?” Melody guessed.
Becky laughed and replied, “No! I’m into Motley Crue! I crank up the Twisted Sister, Judas Priest, KISS, and Iron Maiden. You know, metal!”
These bands were totally alien to Melody. She had no idea who Becky was talking about.
“And Quiet Riot,” Melody said nodding to Becky’s T-shirt.
“Oh yeah! Bang your head!”
“I’ve heard some KISS,” Melody lied. She wanted Becky to think she was cool, but as soon as she spoke, she realized her error. Fear gripped her, knowing Becky could call her out by asking what songs she liked. Melody could not name one.
“Well I should hope so!” Becky laughed again. “Did you know KISS would have never made it big if not for Detroit? Anyway, there are some pop songs I like, but if we are going to hang out, I’ve got to introduce you to some real music.”
Melody could not believe her ears. Did this girl really want to hang out with her? Melody tried to remain calm, but inside, she was rejoicing. She had long wanted a friend and could not believe how easy it was to talk with Becky once they got started. Though it was their initial meeting, anyone passing by would have assumed Melody and Becky had known each other for years.
Melody further learned that Becky’s last name was Valentine, she was also an only child, and did not live far from her. Before lunch ended, Melody offered to show Becky around town and take her to the music store on Saturday. As the day progressed, Melody was happy to see that in addition to English class, Becky also had home economics and gym with her. Before they got on their separate busses to go home, they exchanged phone numbers. After getting on her bus, Melody wondered if her parents would have objected to her giving out the family phone number without permission. Then again, it was her phone number too and with high school quickly approaching, Melody felt it was high time she began having a social life.
For the rest of the week Melody and Becky talked whenever they could. Among dozens of other facts, Melody learned Becky loved pizza and her favorite television show was ‘Cheers’. They stuck together during gym and partnered with each other, no matter what lame activity the coach had prepared. If they had to run laps around the track, they kept the same pace so they could still talk. Melody continued to open up more and more as she became comfortable with Becky, but also made certain not to say too much at once. After keeping everything bottled up for so long, Melody did not want to ramble on endlessly. She paced herself and made sure she was also good a listener. Melody was relieved Becky had never asked her to introduce any of her friends to her. After a while, Melody reasoned Becky must have figured out for herself that she did not have any. Although the two girls were very different, they bonded quite naturally. At the end of the week, Melody promised to be at Becky’s house at one o’clock to give her a tour of the town.
***
On Saturday morning, Barbara had to wake her daughter up for breakfast. Still in her robe, Melody descended the stairs and greeted her father.
“Morning, Honey,” Douglas answered. “What are your plans today?”
“I made a friend at school, Daddy. Her name is Becky Valentine and she moved here from Detroit,” Melody said proudly. “This afternoon I am going to show her around town.”
“Well, that will kill about fifteen minutes,” her father joked. “Then what?”
“Oh Douglas,” Barbara scolded light heartedly. “This is a fine town which provides all we need.”
“I know, Dear,” Douglas answered, admiring the breakfast that had been placed in front of him. “Well Melody, I guess I can show you how to change spark plugs some other time.”
“Deal,” Melody said, digging into her own scrambled eggs.
After finishing her homework for the weekend, Melody changed into what she hoped would impress Becky, the torn jeans her mother was always threatening to throw away, and a plain black T-shirt. Before racing out the door, Douglas gave her a five-dollar bill and told her to treat Becky to some ice cream. After thanking her father with a hug, Melody skateboarded down Oak Street until she got to the downtown area. Then she proceeded to Beckwith Street. Before she had even reached the address, she saw Becky waiting on the sidewalk, straddling a bicycle. Melody coasted up to her and came to a smooth stop just inches from Becky’s front tire.
“Hi Becky!” she exclaimed.
“Hey. Glad you showed. I need to get out of the house.”
“Where do you want to go first?” Melody asked.
“Doesn’t matter to me, lead the way,” Becky answered, putting her foot onto a pedal. Before they left, Melody looked over Becky’s shoulder and noticed the window by her front door. A curtain had been drawn back and she knew they were being watched. Melody could not see a face but thought nothing more of it. She was still excited to see Becky outside of school while overcome with feelings of freedom and independence.
Melody brought Becky to the music store and some antique shops, then Becky wanted to go into a pawn shop. As they continued, Melody knew Dowagiac could never compare to Detroit, but she pointed out the parks, some fishing spots, the holiday parade route, and the annual events the town celebrated. After mentioning everything she could think of, Melody was too scared to ask if Becky was truly interested or just being polite.
“Becky, I got some money. Let’s get some ice cream,” Melody suggested. She had been saving the ice cream as a last resort in case her big city friend found her boring.
“Awesome!” Becky said with a genuine smile.
When they arrived at the ice cream shack, Melody read the menu board and saw that she had enough to get herself and Becky any item they wanted. They both decided on banana splits, and after receiving their orders, the girls sat at an outside table, completely shaded by a large red and white umbrella.
“Thank you,” Becky said before she began eating.
“No problem.”
“You’re really good on that board,” Becky said with admiration. “When you gonna show me an ollie?”
“I still can’t do those,” Melody admitted. “But I do like to go fast.”
“I never could get the hang of those things. I suck at roller skating too. I guess I’ll ride a bike until I’m old enough to drive.”
“What kind of cars do you like?” Melody asked.
Becky answered and the two continued talking without the fear of a teacher telling them to be quiet. As they watched people go by, Melody pointed out those she recognized. Becky noted Dowagiac was very clean and nothing like her former neighborhood, overrun with garbage and foul odors. Melody then recalled what she could remember about her trip to Grand Rapids. Their conversation flowed easily as they skipped from one subject to the next.
“Tell me something,” Becky asked. “Do you ever wear makeup?”
“No,” Melody answered, as she focused on Becky’s lipstick and eyeliner.
“How come?” she asked. “You allergic?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Melody was struggling for an answer. She had only just begun shaving two summers ago. She didn’t even have her ears pierced yet. On rare occasions when her mother did wear makeup, it was hardly noticeable. Barbara was a plain, simple, farmer’s daughter, and certainly not someone Melody could seek advice from regarding beauty products, jewelry, or hair styles. Her mother had one hairdo and wore the same clip-on earrings to church for as long as she could remember. With a glum expression, Melody told the truth. “I don’t know how.”
Becky let out a loud laugh, but soon touched the top of Melody’s hand when she realized she may have hurt her feelings. “I’m not laughing at you, Melody,” Becky assured her. “You’re awesome. I bet you never told a lie in your life. You should have seen some of the girls in my last school. They didn’t know what they were doing either. They looked like whores.”
“How long have you been wearing it?” Melody asked.
“I just started,” Becky said with a wry smirk. “Right before I came here.”
“Who taught you? You’re mom?” Melody asked.
Becky shook her head then stood up. “No,” she said, walking towards her bicycle. “Don’t you worry, Melody. You’ll learn from the best, just like I did. I better be getting home now.”
Melody escorted Becky back to her house and told her what a wonderful time she had. Becky agreed, saying she wanted to go out again soon. They hugged each other goodbye in the driveway and Melody sped off, never thinking it odd that she did not get introduced to Becky’s parents. When Melody got home, she greeted her mother at the door and told her all about her wonderful afternoon. Barbara listened, thankful that Melody had come home safely. After dinner and a little TV, Melody showered and went to bed. She fell asleep tuned into her favorite radio station.
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