Saturday
Incoming text message from: Megan brewer
Megan brewer: n then wat? Jack seems so sweet!
Melody rosano: He asked me to slow dance!
Megan brewer: What a cutie! What happened?
Melody rosano: Well, I think he was about to ask me out, but Em said we had to go, then, so nothing else happened, really.
MEGAN BREWER: Em benson?!?
melody rosano: duh.
megan brewer: well, i mean i kno u hav friends i just dunno who they r. well I guess I shoulda known dat 1 cuz u guys had that whole dance contest w/t, l, z, & d.
melody rosano: and q. haha. u so need 2 b filled in on da info, grl
megan brewer: want to come ova? I am so glad we have today off. u can fill me in.
melody rosano: are you still sick from last night? taylor said thatz y u weren't there.
megan brewer: o. i ttlly ditched them...i wasn't really sick.
melody rosano: haha. then that sounds fine, Meg. I’ll bike over in a few.
megan brewer: Cya!
melody rosano: l8r, sk8r!
“Nice bike, Gothic Barbie!”
“I may have the ride of a ten-year-old, but I’ve got the strength of a fourteen-year-old. So unless you want me to show you how tough I really am, I’d back off with the lame jokes, buck-o”, I snapped nastily to the eleven-year-old that had uttered that insult. A combination of the fact that my entire five foot seven body was cramped into the minor amount of space between the handlebars and seat of a ten-year-old’s Barbie bike and the fact that every child I passed made some kind of lame comment about me was, needless to say, making me cranky. I had despised my sister’s bike the moment I had set eyes on its shimmering hot pink exterior, complete with pink and silver tinsel hanging from the glittery handlebars, a plastic cut out of Barbie plastered on the front, and a bell that when tapped created a rather irritating clatter of bells as a kid, and now that I had the experience of riding it, I knew that once I got home from Megan’s this bike was going straight to the dump. My fishnet-concealed knees were jutting out at odd angles from right below the handle bars, and I practically had to double over just to sit on the bike. I would have been a strange sight even without the added uniqueness of the outfit I had donned myself in--a black and red Atreyu tank top, a tattered black skirt, red fishnet stockings, black boots, and my hair knotted up at the back of my head. Admittedly, compared to what Em wore, this was a normal outfit, but how could you expect some kid and his friends to be aware enough to know that? Sweat trickled down my probably beet-red face as I turned to look at the kid.
I stuck out my tongue, just adding to the strangeness of my appearance as I could tell based on the hysterical giggles escaping the bratty boy before me. “What’s so funny?” I bellowed, although I already knew, preparing to roll up my sleeves and clench my fists in the event of the fight.
“Well, your bike, your clothes, and how you’re about to hit a speed-bump”, the boy giggled gleefully, beginning to run off uproariously.
Before I even had a chance to ask what he meant, I found out. I hit the speed bump and went soaring off the bike. By the time I hit the ground, I was dirty, in pain, and embarrassed. I watched the bike as it tumbled on its own down the street, each time it hit the ground gaining more scratches, mud stains, and dents. Oh well, I thought. At least I’d Megan hadn’t seen my accident or, more importantly, my so-called “ride”.
Today was obviously not my day. First, I was forced to ride a very juvenile bike, was ridiculed by a ten-year-old for it, fell off that bike, and, the cherry on top of it all, Megan Brewer had witnessed it all. “Hey, Melody.” Megan winked charmingly, tossing her golden hair over her narrow shoulder with one hand, the other resting on her hip. “I’m totally digging the ride.”
I giggled nervously, rising from the cold asphalt, my face red with coldness and humiliation. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s just the coooolest one around”, I sneered, doing my best Taylor imitation. Megan laughed, tossing her hair back. “Well, obviously I didn’t pick it out. It’s left over from my sister’s I’m A Barbie Girl stage, age ten, I believe? If I had my choice, I’d have chosen Barbie’s Convertible rather than her bike, but, eh, beggars can’t be choosers.”
Megan smiled brightly and picked the bike off the ground, and began wheeling it towards the stone-paved driveway of 80073 Cherry Street. Words and thoughts were buzzing feverishly throughout my full to bursting mind. I had so much to say, so little time to say it. I couldn’t wait to tell Megan about Em, about drama, about even Rory, Ver, Missy, Ash, and Jack. But when I looked up at her house, I was suddenly at a loss for words.
It was as though I was seeing Em’s house for the first time all over again. Megan’s house was—there was no other word to describe it—perfect. Even more so perfect than Em’s. I peered up at the towering pure white mansion with its medieval looking tower, its many high definition and gleaming windows, the pillars at its entrance. I looked at the beautifully manicured green lawn; the garden filled with exotic and vibrantly colored flowers, and at the trees baring luscious fruit, and realized that it was about five times bigger and nicer than my home. Megan, however, seemed to think nothing of her mansion, and carted the bike rather casually towards the house, me staring about in awe. Just before entering the house, I realized that Em’s house was in fact just around the corner from Megan’s, and gulped at the thought of what Em would say if she witnessed me hanging out with the Queen of all the Bees—Megan Christina Brewer. I had just been at Em’s house this morning and everything had been perfect between us then but I couldn’t help but wonder if everything would be fine if she realized who I was friends with other than she...
“Wow, your house is just great, Megan!” I exclaimed as we entered the home. The foyer was monumental, its gleaming marble floors covered in beautiful Oriental rugs, and the room, no, the entire house, smelling strongly and nicely of a flower-y scent. Megan led me into an equally nice kitchen, large and filled with many deep set, windows, its marble counters and steel fridge glimmering in the dazzling sunlight. A gray kitten dashed up to Megan and rubbed up against her pink Juicy sweats, a Tiffany collar with the tag “Tigger” around its slender neck.
“I mean, my place is a dump compared to yours. Well, I guess my house is just generally a dump, but that’s because we don’t clean up very well. Are you guys neat freaks or what, I mean, how do you keep your house so orderly?”
My question was answered even before Megan opened her lips to speak. A woman of Hispanic-descent had just briskly walked into the room, her curvaceous, tanned body clad in a simple black dress and a practical apron. Her full lips formed a smile and her dark eyes glistened as much as the shiny black, tight chignon atop her head when she spotted Megan.
“Megan, amor, have you eaten dinner yet? You must be starving, you are much too skinny, and I’ve said that ever since you were young. But beautiful, yes, beautiful”, the maid rambled, her face shining with pride at Megan. Was it just me or was this woman acting the part of mother rather than maid?
“I’m fine, Maria”, Megan replied doubtfully, continuing to smile nonetheless. She turned to me. “This is my new friend Melody. Melody, this is our housekeeper and cook, Maria.”
Maria swiveled on the spot to face me, her bronzed, plump face blushing. “Oh, my, I didn’t see you. Forgive me, Miss Melody.” My eyes widened as she simply gave my tattered, rebellious clothing and dark makeup a quick look and stared straight back into my eyes. She was one of the few people I had ever met that hadn’t seemed disgusted, amused, or weird-ed out by my appearance. “ Well, Meg, Mel...” She turned to me, now beaming in amusement, tugging on a simple pearl earring. “Just tell me if you happen to need anything. I’ll be doing the wash for tus padres.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you have a housekeeper!” I squealed. “She seems so nice, I mean, she didn’t even care about how I look.”
Megan sighed, and flicked her hand casually. “A driver too”, she replied, rolling her eyes dully. I frowned in confusion. I’d be so excited to have all of those things. “You know, my house isn’t too great. It’s so big; it gets so lonely around here. I mean, I know I have Maria, and she's like family, but it’s definitely not the same thing as having my own parents here, it’s not the same as blood relatives, no matter how much Maria loves me. And, God, I’d do anything for a sibling to keep me company.”
I remained silent, pondering everything Megan had just said. It appeared that I had, yet again, mistaken Megan’s life for something it was not. I had thought, regardless of her being wedged in such a horrible friends situation, being pressured to be a life-size Barbie, complete with the utter fakeness and dullness yet great fashion sense, that Megan was simply blessed to be so wealthy, to have a mansion, and most importantly, to have successful parents. Everyone knew Megan was an only child, and I had always envied her for that after living in Alessandra’s shadow for so long, but upon remembering how when I was little Alessandra had occupied me when I was bored, played with me even though she was years older than me, assisted me with my homework, and acted as a second mother, and thought how lonely and strange my childhood would have been if it were just Madre and I, and even more lonely if we had been in such a big home. And apparently rarely having your parents home was just as dreadful as having a mother always home whom ignored you. I looked at Megan’s slightly frowning face, and shot her a sympathetic smile.
“Well, I can’t say I understand much of that, but I kind of understand the thing with your parents...um...” I searched around in my mind to find the right words, but the only ones I could find sounded simple and foolish, so I chose to not let any words escape my mouth at all.
“Forget I said anything”, Megan stepped in, shooting me a rather fake smile back. “Unless you’re hungry, wanna just go to my room? I promise you can tell me all about Em and your friends and whatever else you need to get off your chest, ‘kay?” She held a hand to her heart in a Miss America sort of way, and I smiled, thinking even though she looked the part of a girl in a beauty contest, she was so intelligent that she had even greater things in her future, regardless of whether or not her parents were around enough to see it.
“Sure”, I replied, following her as she skipped back into the foyer and up the magnificent winding marble staircase.
The upstairs area was just as large and beautiful, with its gleaming wooden floors, high ceilings, walls covered with glossy dark red and gold paint and wide hallways. Megan casually strolled past about a dozen doorways before she reached the one leading to her bedroom. She turned the glimmering brass doorknob and yet again I had to struggle to keep my jaw from dropping.
Megan’s room seemed more like a luxurious and expensive apartment than a fourteen-year-old’s bedroom. It was, as every other area of the house, spectacularly large and beautiful. Right after the door, there was a large step, leading down to an off-white plush carpet. Directly in my range of view was a large window seat, complete with gauzy pale pink and off-white curtains, which brushed against the glistering pale pink walls, which had large photographs of Megan and her friends and family posing in a model-like manner. Against the left wall was a comfortable-looking canopy bed, complete with the same curtains against the window, lots of pink cozy, soft pillows and cashmere blankets. All of her expensive-looking furniture was white and lovely, and everything atop it was neatly arranged and aligned. If this was her bedroom, I couldn’t imagine what the bathroom and walk-in closets inside her bedroom were like.
“Wow, Megan...I mean, I know you said such a big house can get lonely, and I’m sure it can, but hey, you most definitely can’t complain about your bedroom”, I said in awe, letting my fingers brush against the pink walls. However, Megan, unlike Em when she had shown me her room, didn’t seem eager to boast and brag about how the other half lived, simply laughed softly and threw herself on the soft, white couch facing her bed and TV set, which was suspended from the ceiling.
“Okay, okay, Melody, enough about my supposed great house, and me I’m sure anything you have to say is much more interesting than anything I could say about a stupid old house”, Megan said, grinning. She said house the way Taylor, if she were at Megan’s house instead of undoubtedly out partying or shopping, would have perhaps said “Wal-mart”.
“Well, I doubt that, but if you insist...” I giggled. “Okay, well, yes, I’m friends with Em Benson. Just became friends with, in fact.” I kicked off my boots, set them neatly on the plush carpet, and curled up next to Megan on the cushiony couch, tucking my disheveled black hair behind my ears.
“How did that happen, exactly?” Megan question, brushing her own silky blonde hair out of her face.
“Well...” I launched into an extended explanation, touching everything even remotely regarding my new friends.
This was absolutely amazing. Never in my fourteen years of life had I felt so welcome, so listened-to. It seemed that every time I decided to reach out to someone, they barely even grasped what I was saying, either pretending to listen or pushed me away, as though whatever I had to say, my memories, hopes, dreams, were either non-existent or completely un-important. Megan, however, acted completely opposite of that. She was completely immersed in everything I was saying, and not only listened intently, but when I paused for breath in between my long ramblings asked interesting questions and commented on what I had to say, smiling and seeming very happy the entire time. I knew that I was probably one of the few people who had ever chosen to reach out to her, so she probably felt the same way as me, which pleased me, because the way I felt was extremely happy. However, the entire time I spoke to Megan, I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head that she didn’t entirely approve of everything I told her. I soon regretted having told her about stealing the clothes, vandalizing Fiona’s skateboard, sneaking into the club, and Em having tripped Diamond, because each time I mentioned these things, her smile faded the slightest bit more, and as she bit her lip, she seemed to be struggling to say something not-so-supportive. Not only this, but I, with displeasure, realized that Megan listened to me way more than Em, who was always speaking of herself and listened to me only when I managed to get a word in between her boastings and ramblings. We never had much of a conversation, not like Megan and I,
But all good things, apparently, have to end at some point, because just when Megan and I had hit a great point in our conversation, Megan’s flat screen Mac suddenly spoke the words in a blaring, deep robotic voice, “You’ve Got Mail”. Megan’s smile, at this point, completely disappeared from her face, and was most unpleasantly replaced with a frown. Her bright eyes suddenly turned dull, and she sighed as she padded over to her computer, me trailing behind in interest.
“Great”, Megan muttered as soon as she double-clicked on the mailbox icon with her shiny, white computer mouse.
“What?” I asked, trying to contain the eagerness in my voice. I knew I shouldn’t be excited, but every aspect about Megan’s life, whether good or bad, was so interesting, so compelling. I couldn’t wait to see what juicy details her e-mail enclosed.
“It’s from Taylor. She’s always sending me e-mails, and they’re never nice, just-stopping-to-say-hi types of messages. They’re like an instant way for her to critique the way I act, what I wear, what I do, me. She, Laura, Kitty, and the rest of the girls send me stupid messages so much I just had to make a different e-mail address for personal use, so I could log on without hearing ‘You’ve Got Mail’ and knowing it was one of these gross messages. Go ahead, look, stupid, isn’t it?”
Megan stepped aside so I could get a better look at the glowing screen.
To: xoMeganChristinaxo@aol.com
From: Taylorx3sYouu@verizon.net
Time: 5:42 PM Eastern Time
Subject: Heyyy, Girlie
Hey, Meg, what’s up? I’m glad you’re feeling better from last night. Good thing you didn’t go. We were stuck with Quinn all night and the Goth chick and her crew showed up and it was so freakin’ retarded. I know y’all said ya had plans today so ya couldn’t go to the mall with me, Laura, & Kitty, but I ttly needed to talk to y’all, ‘kay? Well, I just wanted to say the rest of the Queen Bees and I think y’all have been acting so weirddd. Your outfits haven’t been so cutee, lately, hon, you’ve been dressing really last season, no offense, that’s why we’ve been trying to get ya to go shopping, so y’all can get some hawt, fashionable clothes meant for winter, durr, ‘kay? Also, you seem so like, out there, like, I never really know if you’re listening or not. Plus, why are you so obsessed with that project with have in chemistry, I mean, chyeah, it’s a grade, but hey, we ttly have that teacher in the palm of our hands, that frumpy-dressing gramma will ttly give us an A, you don’t have to pretend to like that biyatchh, kay? Well me, Laura, & Kitty still wanna see y’all, we’re gonna
But I didn’t find out what precisely Taylor, Laura, and Kitty were “gonna” do, because at that exact moment, I met one of the reasons Megan seemed so desperate and sad sometimes—Mrs. Brigitte Brewer. Or, in other words, Megan Brewer’s mother.
“Hello, girls!” a pleasant and buoyant voice echoed from behind Megan and I. I let a gasp of astonishment escape my mouth at the unexpected and uninvited intruding of Megan’s room and get-together with me. Megan emitted a sigh of relief and un-excitement at what she saw, but I was even more alarmed than I had been before once I saw an older, larger, pantsuit-wearing version of businesswoman Barbie before me.
“Mom!” Megan exclaimed in an annoyed tone. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Megan, dear. It’s just that I’m used to being able to visit my daughter whenever I want, I didn’t know I had to schedule an appointment these days.” Mrs. Brewer’s kind tone suddenly turned brisk and down-to-business. When Megan remained silent and I simply gazed down at the luxurious carpet, Mrs. Brewer sighed and tapped her narrow chin. “It was a joke, dear.” She abruptly turned to me, looking rather confused. Her thin, clearly plucked and shaped eyebrows were raised as her sensible make-up surrounded cobalt-blue eyes, identical to that of Megan, gave me an once-over. Her small lipstick-covered lips were stretched tautly across her thin face as she frowned as though trying desperately to remember something. She ran a hand through her colored bright blonde hair, which was twisted into a loose bun, strands spilling into her face.
“Hmm, I don’t seem to remember you, dear. I’m Mrs. Brewer, Megan’s mother, but if you please you can call me Brigitte, every one of Megan’s friends do. You see, Megan rarely has new friends, I’m always telling her she needs to broaden her tolerance of different people, all of her friends seem to remind me deeply of Britney Spears, or whatever silly pop star you girls idolize these days”, Mrs. Brewer said forwardly, extending her right hand to me as her left one smoothed her navy pantsuit. Thinking that that was a very strange introduction, I shook hands with the thirty-five year old woman, smiling broadly.
“My name is Melody Rosano. And I don’t listen to pop, I really like rock music, actually”, I replied as we stopped shaking hands.
“That’s excellent. Megan seems so narrow-minded, always with the popular music. She never listens to anything different. And I am so glad you are different than those other girls, they’re so, Barbie doll-like”, Mrs. Brewer laughed. Megan scowled and flopped back down on the couch, me inching over towards her but not wanting to be rude by sitting down.
“Oh, Mother, I listen to plenty of different types of music, even if they may be popular, why should that matter at all?” Megan said in a dignified tone. I was stunned. In my home, by this point Madre and I would be in a shouting match, me bellowing that she shouldn’t insult my music. Megan seemed to have such a, well, mature relationship with her mom. She even called her Mother. That certainly wasn’t natural.
“I don’t know about that, I hear your music quite a lot, did you know she blasts her music while she’s doing her homework?” Mrs. Brewer asked me, shaking her blonde head in disbelief as though that were the most uncommon and incredible event in the world. Suddenly her expression turned sharp. “You have already done your homework, haven’t you, Megan?”
“Yes, Mother!” Megan replied, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead as though her mom was a migraine that she desperately wanted to disappear.
“Don’t be rude, Megan”, Mrs. Brewer scolded, wagging a slender finger at her daughter. I stared at her in disbelief. If that were what Mrs. Brewer considered rude, than if she saw some of the things I had said and done to my mother in the past, she would either a) faint or b) brand me the brattiest child in the world. “Well, that’s good, at least, that you’ve done your homework, but you certainly haven’t cleaned your room. I told Maria to ask you to do it; just because we have a housekeeper doesn’t mean you can’t pitch in around here. I mean, Maria is practically family!”
I gazed about the room, trying desperately to find anything that was remotely filthy or disorderly, but it was like finding a needle in a haystack. However, I finally discovered what Mrs. Brewer was speaking of—a small pile of clothing tossed in the far corner of Megan’s bedroom, probably Megan’s outfit from the day before. “I will, Mother, I will. Please, can you just leave?”
Mrs. Brewer appeared extremely hurt at these words, which absolutely amazed me. It took much more than a polite request for her to leave to make Madre even remotely sad. “I just came in here to show you what I purchased for you on the way home from work—I stopped at Waterstown mall.” She handed a paper shopping bag to Megan, who accepted it without another word. Megan slowly produced a heap of expensive-looking clothing with the Ralph Lauren label stamped over each item of clothing.
“Perhaps you could change into it now...? You hardly look presentable to have guests over, please excuse my daughter’s wardrobe, Melody”, Mrs. Brewer apologized, looking slightly embarrassed. I crinkled my eyebrows and peered over at Megan. Her silky hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head with an oversized barrette, she most unusually had barely any makeup covering her naturally pretty face, and she was wearing a comfy-looking Juicy sweat suit, toe socks, and a simple silver Tiffany charm necklace. She didn’t look un-presentable as much as she looked like a weekend version of herself.
“But I’m very comfortable, Mother, and Melody doesn’t really care how I look.” Megan sighed as Mrs. Brewer pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Is there anything else you need, Mother?”
“Only one more thing: Your father won’t be home for supper today, Megan”, Mrs. Brewer announced, heading for the door. She opened the door, smiled warmly at us once more, and quietly and softly shut the door.
“Figures”, Megan mumbled.
“Um...you’re mom seems...” I struggled to find a word that could possibly describe Mrs. Brewer, but there wasn’t really one.
“Strange. Pressuring. Annoying”, Megan suggested flatly. “Too bad you didn’t meet my dad, he’s totally opposite from her. But he’s never here, so your chances of meeting him are like, zip. My mom’s not here a lot, but she’s here way more than him.” I shot her a questioning look and she continued. “My parents are rarely here, you see—my dad owns a successful computer business, and my mom is a makeup mogul—she and Kitty’s mom are partners in a cosmetics line. People think it must be so great to have rich and successful parents, but if them having average-paying jobs meant they’d be around more, I’d definitely want that. It’s just unnaturally empty in my home. It’s either scary or depressing, but either way it’s not fun or comfortable like it may seem, except for my bed.” She shot me a weak smile and hugged her knees. “Oh, Mel, I’m sorry to seem so sad and stuff. We were having so much fun, too.”
“I completely understand. You see, my madre...” But suddenly I was interrupted.
“Knock, knock.” There were a series of echoing raps on Megan’s bedroom door. She rolled her eyes and called out to whomever was on the other side of the door.
“What is it, Mother?” Megan replied to the knocks.
“Mother?” a familiar, annoyingly sticky sweet voice giggled along with two others snobby sounding cackles. Megan looked as I felt at hearing Laura, Taylor, and Kitty—as though her stomach had just dropped five feet.
“Kitty? Speak of the devil...” I mumbled.
“Just a minute, guys!” Megan called in a high-pitched, frantic tone. “Get under the bed”, she whispered to me. I quickly obeyed, diving underneath her large canopy bed just in time to see the door slam open.
“Heyyy, girl”, Taylor squealed. I wiggled uncomfortably underneath the shadows that the bed cast on the soft carpet, struggling to get a better look at the action. Taylor had flung her thin arms around Megan’s neck, making her tight auburn curls spill into Megan’s face and Megan’s bright blue eyes pop open.
“Hi, Meggy!” Laura exclaimed, clapping her small hands in excitement as though it had been a year, not a day, since they had last seen Megan. She flicked a sheet of caramel colored hair over her Ralph Lauren clad back, her glimmering green eyes wide and innocent. She seemed not to notice or care that she, Taylor, and Kitty had very rudely invited themselves over, and that Megan was practically choking as Taylor squeezed her with unknown strength.
“Hey there, Megan”, Kitty whispered in her usual cute, pleasant, and oblivious tone. Katherine Spokes had always spoken quietly; as far back as I could remember. It made you think that she was mysterious, that there was something compelling and deep beyond her lower-back length shimmering black hair, emerald green eyes, and attractive olive tan skin. However, there wasn’t—Kitty was very dull and foolish. Around sixth grade she had been completely brain washed by the Queen Bees, and had followed them around like a lost and adorable puppy ever since.
“Uh...hey. What exactly are you guys, d-doing here?” Megan stuttered, sitting stiffly on her bed as the threesome piled nonchalantly onto her couch, examining their obviously freshly painted nails and flinging their shopping bags onto the floor.
“Uh, durr, earth to Megan”, Taylor scoffed, running her fingers through her hair and smirking as though Megan were a dumb as Kitty. “I told you in the e-mail we’d be coming over at around 6:15 so we could show you our new clothes, hello! Didn’t you, like, get it?”
“Um...” Megan stole a quick glance at the computer screen from where she was seated. “Must have slipped my mind.”
“That’s ‘kay”, Laura said sweetly, shooting Megan a Crest Whitening strips-induced smile.
“Chyeah, whatever, we don’t care”, Taylor added. “Just as long as we get to hang, right?” She shot Kitty, who was staring blankly into space with her mouth hanging absently open, a sharp look. Immediately Kitty blinked, smiled, and looked at Megan.
“Totally, right, Megan?” Kitty asked tonelessly.
“Um, yeah, right, totally”, Megan agreed, plainly pretending to be cheerful. But apparently any form of happiness, whether fake or not, was okay with these girls, because none of them asked her if something was wrong, nor if she had truly wanted them to come over.
“So, Megan, why couldn’t you go to the mall with us today?” Taylor shot a meaningful look at Laura and Kitty. However, they returned her look with a blank one. Apparently Taylor was the only one of the threesome that had suspicions about Megan’s plans for the day. I gulped, praying pressingly that Taylor didn’t have X-ray vision and couldn’t see through solid objects, specifically Megan’s bed.
“Oh, I um...Homework. Yeah, loads of homework”, Megan lied in a slightly hysterical, panicked tone. “Not a lot of time for friends, you see.”
“Really?” Taylor inquired. Laura and Kitty were now listening intently, and so was I. However, they were listening because what they heard was interesting not because they were terrified, petrified that I would be discovered like Megan and I were. “Because there was a Barbie bike right outside of your house. So unless you traded in your ‘brand new, state of the art’ Huffy bike that your dad got you for your birthday for that pink piece of junk, someone must have come over, right?”
“Yeah, I forgot...The little girl from down the street, Rachel, you guys have seen her at my Fourth of July cookout and party, came over today to visit Tigger. She loves my kitten, remember? She must have left her bike in my driveway, don’t you think?” Megan said simply, now regaining her outer calmness and tranquility, although from my position I could see her foot, which was dangling over the side of the bed, quivering with fear.
“Really? Because your mom, Brigitte, said you’d had a friend over earlier when we rang the doorbell and she answered”, Taylor said composedly, crossing a skinny, pale leg over another. Wow, she was much more sensible than I had ever known or imagined. “And I think she would have said if it had been Rachel, don’t you think?”
“Er...Oh, yeah, I forgot, I needed help on my English homework, Romeo and Juliet. Nicole Harper’s in class, and she’s about the smartest one in it, so she dropped by really quickly to help me. Don’t worry, it certainly wasn’t to hang out or anything”, Megan bristled. Whoa! Talk about clever. Nicole Harper was really intelligent and witty, and nice, she would help anyone on their homework, but she was also what the Queen Bees considered a nerd after they’d had a falling out with her in middle school, and no matter how curious they were about whether or not Megan was telling the truth, they would most certainly not talk to her. Taylor narrowed her amber eyes and slightly frowned. Uh, oh. Her tone and appearance had changed from curious to accusatory, and that look on her face most certainly didn’t say I believe you. Laura and Kitty looked so surprised that I thought it was a wonder that they managed to keep their lip-gloss coated mouths closed.
“She also said that this friend was a girl she’d never seen before. Your mother would have seen Nicole before because we used to be best friends with that witch in middle school, remember?”
I could actually hear Megan’s heart beating faster and louder—or was that my own? “Oh yeah, well, I had Zoey Brown over. I thought you guys said she was cool, I mean, you invited her to sit at our lunch table, right?” Megan said coolly, examining her nails as though for chips in the polish when I knew it was simply to avoid Taylor’s unforgiving glare. “And she came with you to ‘The Spot’.”
“Oh, good, because I thought maybe, just maybe you had Melinda Rosado over. I mean, you’ve seemed a bit too chummy during Chemistry for it to just be because you’re working on a project together”, Taylor said, sounding slightly relieved but not entirely convinced that it hadn’t been Melinda Rosado AKA Melody Rosano AKA me that Mrs. Brewer had seen.
“Oh. My God.” Megan, Taylor, and Laura each turned to stare at Kitty, who’d said the first non-copy-cat thing she’d said not only since she’d gotten here, but for about the twelve years of her life so far that she’d known how to speak. “Like, I went to Melody’s fifth grade birthday party, back when she was, like, cool. And I remember where it was, and every day that I pass her house on the way to school, I see a Barbie bike, like, just like the one we saw in front of your house. Except, like, the one on your driveway is totally dirtier.”
Megan, Taylor, Laura, and I all gasped.
“Was Melanie Rosetta here today?” Taylor hissed at Megan.
“Melody Rosano”, Kitty breathed.
Megan ignored Kitty and snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Phew”, Taylor and Laura said in unison. Kitty had sunk back into her absent-minded state as soon as Megan denied me having been here today. I smiled. Good thing Taylor believed her, or I’d be dead meat.
“So you’re not friends with her then, Meggy?” Laura asked hopefully.
“Ew, of course not, why would I be?” Suddenly I felt like Megan had dropped me from the heavenly place of relief I had returned to after realizing that her so-called friends believed in her flat-out lie and let me fall straight back into the horrible place I had been when Taylor suggested that I had been here. Except it hurt a hundred times worse because Megan, not Taylor, was the one that had put me there. It had seemed okay before that Megan was telling the three girls that I hadn’t been there, because in doing that she was protecting herself from being dumped into a world of unpopularity where she had barely any friends and absolutely no fun and me from being yanked out from under the bed, skinned alive, and made into a cute purse. But her telling them that there was absolutely no way that she and I could never be friends wasn’t okay with me, because she was now only selfishly protecting herself, saying that I wasn’t cool, lying for no one’s benefit. I mean, I don’t know what I had expected. Why hadn’t I gotten mad before that Megan hadn’t told her popular friends about me and had been meeting me secretly so no one would see? She was just as much denying that she was friends with me then, except then it had seemed okay because she hadn’t been directly lying about me. This time she did, and it felt like her kitten had clawed my insides out or something equally horrible.
“Oh, I mean, of course I knew that...” Laura stuttered, sounding rather flustered. Taylor laughed, Kitty following her lead and smiling cutely.
“Okay, well, I think it’s time for dinner”, Megan stated, implying that the girls should leave. They finally got the hint.
“Bye-bye, Meggy!” Laura sang-talked, waving and flouncing out the door.
“Bye ya, babe!” Taylor screeched, yet again ambushing Megan with a full-force hug and then model walking out the door after Laura.
“Bye, Megan. See you later”, Kitty whispered.
“Bye guys!” Megan called out, closing the door tight and wiping beads of sweat off of her peachy face. I came out from under the bed, quavering with pain from curling up there for so long and with immense anger.
“You completely denied that you were friends with me, Megan! You’ve never done that directly before, and I just can’t believe you did that! Am I just not cool enough? I thought you said I was your only true friend”, I croaked hoarsely, too overwhelmed to have yelled.
Megan’s lower-lip quivered. “I know, Melody, I’m so sorry. I promise I only did it so she wouldn’t eat me, I swear, if she ever asks me again if I’m friends with you, I won’t deny it. I mean...” She widened her eyes at me, seeming to think that she had offended me by not saying that she would straight-up tell Taylor, Laura, and the rest of the Queen Bees about me. But she needn’t have worried—my moment of anger had walked out the door only a few minutes after Megan’s friends.
“I know what you mean. You don’t have to tell her unless she asks. Pinky promise you will?” I pleaded, sticking out my pinky in the air.
Megan genuinely laughed and stuck out her own slender, perfectly manicured one and linked it with mine.
And I knew, I just knew, that she was telling the truth. ***
[b]so, roya what do you think?
