Melody (20 page)

“Let's go. We don't want to be late,” he muttered and plodded along ahead of us, moving so quickly, May practically had to run to keep up. We dropped her off first and then started for our school. I tried to make conversation.

“How long have you been constructing model ships?” I asked. He glanced at me as if I had asked a stupid question.

“A long time and they're not toys,” he added.

“I didn't say they were. I know grown-ups can have hobbies, too. Papa George used to carve out flutes from hickory branches. He even made my fiddle.”

“Why do you call this person Papa George?” he said disdainfully. “He's not your grandfather. This Sunday you'll meet your grandfather.”

“Papa George is the only grandfather I've known. He and Mama Arlene are my real grandparents as far as I'm concerned,” I replied firmly.

“Don't they have any children of their own?”

“No.”

“So why didn't Haille leave you with them while she went rushing off to become a movie star?” he asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Papa George is very sick. He suffers from black lung,” I replied.

He grunted. “That's a convenient excuse,” he said.

Furious, I seized him at the elbow and pulled him to a
stop, spinning him around. He was genuinely shocked at my outburst of physical strength. I shocked myself.

“It's not an excuse. He's very sick. I don't know why you don't like me, Cary Logan, and the truth is, I don't care to know. If that's the way it has to be, that's the way it has to be, but don't think I'll let you ridicule me or say bad things about the people I love.”

He went from astonishment and shock to what looked like appreciation and pleasure, before returning to his stoic self.

“I can't be late for school,” he said. “I already have two demerits.” He walked on and I hurried to catch up.

“You
have two demerits? What for?”

He was silent.

“What did you do?” I pursued, keeping pace with him. I was curious what possible infraction of the rules Mr. Perfect could have committed.

“Fighting,” he finally replied.

“I wonder why that comes as no surprise?” I said. I couldn't resist.

He glared at me and I thought if looks could kill, I'd be long dead and buried. Then he pumped his legs harder, remaining a foot or two ahead of me the rest of the way to school.

Theresa Patterson was friendly and spoke to me between classes, but since she didn't have to be my guide any longer, she stayed with her own friends. She didn't have to say it, but I knew if she brought me along, her friends might resent it. Just as in my school, and probably in most schools, clumps of girls and boys clung to each other in cliques, feeling safer and more comfortable hanging around with those whom they perceived to be their own kind.

At lunch I sat at a table alone until Lorraine, Janet, and Betty brought themselves and two other girls over to join me. I saw by the mischievous twinkle in Betty's eyes that they had been plotting something.

“So after nearly two days here, how do you like our school?” Lorraine asked innocently.

“It's okay. The teachers are nice,” I said.

“Are the boys better looking than the boys in West Virginia?” Janet asked.

“I haven't had a chance to look,” I said. When they all looked skeptical, I added, “It's hard starting someplace new during the last quarter of the year. I've got to take the same finals you will take.”

One of the new girls looked sympathetic, but Betty tucked in the corner of her mouth and said, “You don't look like you're going to have a problem with schoolwork.”

“Grandpa might have a problem, though,” Janet said. “He's barely passing. He might not graduate, I hear.”

“Billy Wilkins told me Grandpa is going to fail English,” Lorraine said nodding.

“Maybe you can tutor him,” Betty suggested.

“That's right, like show him how to do it,” Janet said. They all laughed.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked. The girls glanced at each other and ate.

“Do you sleep in the same room?” Betty asked me.

“Same room?”

“With Grandpa? We heard Laura and Cary slept in the same room ever since they were born.”

“Of course not,” I said. “And they didn't.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” Lorraine said.

“Laura had a very nice room. That's the room I use. None of you have ever been in my aunt and uncle's house?”

“No,” Betty said.

“Laura was a very strange girl,” Janet offered. “That whole family's strange.”

“She didn't want to do anything with girls her age,” Lorraine said. “She was like an old lady—cooking, cleaning, canning fruit with her mother.”

“I hardly saw her at any of our dances,” Janet complained.

“Robert Royce was the only boyfriend she ever had,” Lorraine said.

“Unfortunate for him,” Betty added.

“Whereas, Grandpa has never been with anyone we know,” Janet said.

“Now we have someone who will tell us,” Lorraine said, eyeing me. “Tell us, Melody.”

“Tell you what?”

“Does Grandpa spend a lot of time in the bathroom, maybe sneaking in with girlie magazines?”

More laughter. The blood rushed to my neck and face.

“When he goes to sleep, do you hear the bedsprings squeaking?” Betty continued. The girls giggled.

“You're all disgusting,” I said. Their laughter stopped.

“Oh come on, Melody. I'm sure you're curious about him, too,” Janet said.

“He's not bad looking,” Lorraine offered gazing across the cafeteria at Cary. He stared back at us. “Maybe you can get him to loosen up, relax. We could help you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

The girls were quiet a moment, all eyes on the teacher monitor. Betty nodded at Lorraine. She opened her school bag, which she had set between me and her, and took something out quickly. Then she pressed it into my hand. I gazed down at what looked like one of Papa George's self-rolled cigarettes.

“I don't smoke,” I said.

“That's not a cigarette, stupid,” Betty said. “And keep it below the table so Mr. Rotter doesn't see.”

“What is it?”

“It's a joint,” Lorraine whispered loudly.

“I don't want it,” I said and tried to give it back, but she pushed my hand away.

“Just keep it in case you get a chance to offer it to Grandpa. It'll loosen him up.”

“Just tell us what happens, that's all,” Betty said.

“Put it away, quick,” Lorraine said as Mr. Rotter started down the aisle between the tables.

Little butterflies of panic fluttered in my head. Gazing
around, it seemed as if everyone were looking at me, waiting to see what I would do.

“Hello, girls,” Mr. Rotter said smiling down at us. “Are you making our new student feel at home?”

“Yes, Mr. Rotter,” Lorraine fluttered her eyelids.

“Is that true, Melody?” he asked me.

I was afraid my voice would crack. “Yes sir,” I said.

“Good. Good.” He continued through the cafeteria. I let out my breath.

“Very nice. You did well,” Betty said. The other girls apparently agreed.

“We're having a beach party Saturday night. We'll meet about eight at Janet's house. You want to come? It will be a chance for you to meet some normal boys,” Betty said.

“I don't know if I can. I'll ask my aunt.”

“Don't tell her where you're going,” Janet said, “or she won't let you come. Just say you're coming over to my house to study for a test. That always works.”

“I don't like to lie,” I said.

She smirked. “You haven't been living with the Logans long. After a while, you'll get to like it.”

The bell signalled the end of lunch period. Everyone rose to leave. I was the last to get up, not realizing until that moment, that I still had the joint of marijuana clutched in my hand. I dropped it into my sandwich bag and then dropped the bag in the garbage can on the way out of the cafeteria.

At the doorway, someone bumped into me hard, and I turned to look into the most perfect face I had ever seen. His blue eyes were positively dazzling and his smile was the warmest and sweetest I'd ever seen. Strong, full lips were turned up gently at the corners, revealing teeth as white as piano keys. A wave of dark brown hair floated over his forehead. He was tall and broad in the shoulders with a narrow waist. His face wasn't as tanned as Cary's, but he had a creamy rich complexion and looked like a male model or a movie star.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. It's all right.”

“I'm afraid I had my mind on my upcoming European history exam. I'm not usually this clumsy.”

“It's okay. I'm fine.”

“You're the new girl, right?”

“Yes,” I said smiling.

“I'm Adam Jackson.”

“Melody Logan,” I returned.

“Welcome to Provincetown,” he said. “I see you've already made friends with some of the girls. Are you going to their beach party Saturday night?”

“I don't know. I. . . I'll see.”

“I hope to see you there,” he said. His face glittered with a handsome smile as he moved away to join his friends, who, I saw, included a very pretty brunette. She glared at me as she threaded her arm through his and moved him down the hall and away. I stared after him until Lorraine nudged me. The girls had been standing nearby, watching.

“Be careful,” Lorraine said. “That's Adam Jackson.”

“I know. He told me.”

“Did he tell you he puts a nick in the bow of his sailboat for every girl he takes to bed?”

“What?”

“One more nick and that boat might sink,” Betty added. We continued toward class before I could catch my breath.

“But maybe she won't mind becoming one of Adam's nicks,” Janet quipped. “Would you, Melody?”

“What?”

Everyone laughed again. I was beginning to feel as light and helpless as a balloon caught in a crosswind, blown one way, then another. And I had been here only a couple of days!

Mr. Malamud, my chemistry teacher, spent some time with me after class to be sure I was up-to-date with the class. It was my last period of the day. Cary wasn't waiting for me when I finally emerged from the building.
I gazed around for a few moments and then hurried along. I assumed he had picked up May from her school already, so I just took the shortest route back.

“Oh Melody, dear, I was worried about you,” Aunt Sara said when I entered the house. “Cary and May have been home a while.”

“I had to stay after school for a few minutes to get some extra help from my science teacher,” I explained.

“You should have let Cary know,” she told me.

“I don't see or speak to Cary much after we arrive at school, Aunt Sara, and that's not all my fault either,” I added. I went upstairs to change into a pair of jeans. I found the needlework picture spread out on the bed with a box of colored thread beside it. Moments later, Aunt Sara was in the doorway.

“I'll show you how to make the stitch,” she said.

“I'm really not good at this, Aunt Sara.”

“Once you start, you will be, I'm sure,” she insisted. I was about to continue my protest when Cary appeared in the hallway behind her.

“If she doesn't want to do it, don't keep forcing it on her, Mother,” he snapped. Aunt Sara's mouth fell open and her hand fluttered up to the base of her throat.

“I didn't mean to . . . I—”

“It's okay, Aunt Sara,” I said, shooting my own sparks of anger from my eyes, “I'd be happy to learn.”

Cary took on a look of amusement that added fuel to the fire before he hurried down the stairs and out of the house. Aunt Sara smiled and came into the room to demonstrate the needlework. I picked it up quickly and did enjoy it.

“As soon as this is finished, I'll get a frame for it and put it up with the others,” Aunt Sara promised. “But you don't have to work on it now. You've been cooped up in school all day. Go get some fresh air. Laura liked to walk on the beach and hunt for seashells.”

May was still completing her chores so I went out by myself. The sky still had patches of deep blue, but most of it had become covered with what looked like storm
clouds, bruised and sooty puffs that rolled angrily from the horizon. The ocean looked more tempestuous, too. I could see Cary and Roy Patterson on the lobster boat bobbing beside the dock. I walked out a little way. Cary left the boat and started back toward me and the house.

“There's going to be a storm,” he said as he approached. “It's a nor'easter,” he added, continuing past. I said nothing and continued to walk toward the ocean. “Didn't you hear what I said?” he called.

I turned.

“Look at the sky. Even a landlubber like you should be able to see rain comin'.”

“Don't call me a landlubber.”

He smiled. “Well what are you?”

“I'm a person, just like you, only I was brought up in a different place. I'm sure you wouldn't know your way around a coal mine, but I wouldn't call you silly names just to pump myself up.”

“I'm not doing it to pump myself up.”

I turned away. To my surprise, he was at my side in moments. “Keep walking in this direction and you'll get caught in a downpour. Look at the breakers. The ocean is talking to us, telling us what to expect. See how the terns are heading for safer ground, too.”

“Where's Uncle Jacob?” I asked, gazing toward the dock.

“He took today's catch into town. It wasn't good. Only four good-size lobsters in the traps.”

“How do lobsters get trapped?” I asked.

“We bait them with stinky dead fish and set them on the ocean bottom. The lobster crawls into the living room and gets caught.”