I never knew hardship like that when I was a kid. My parents were lower-middle class, my dad working at the local fishery, and my mom was an elementary school teacher. As an only child, I never went without anything, albeit we didn’t live in the lap of luxury or own multiple cars or anything extravagant. But it was a good home.
Nothing like the home Miles and Mel grew up in. But that didn’t stop Miles from always helping others, all while working hard to get himself out of our small town. He achieved in everything he did and got a scholarship to an Ivy League school.
Although I know it was what was best for Miles and his future, it seemed to be the end of the Melodie I’d grown up with. Because as we entered our last year of middle school, that’s when our friendship ended.
Over the next few years, I made so many mistakes with avoidable outcomes, that I wish I could go back and change them.
If only that Magic Eightball we’d played with when we were kids could have given us different options, and we’d taken different paths to prevent the inevitable consequences that led us to where we ended up.
An end to a friendship.
A death of a beautiful sweet girl.
And the irrevocable change in a boy as he grew into the man I know today.
15
The Past—Sutton
“Oh my God,Sut. Take this sex quiz with me. You won’t believe what boys like girls to do!”
I peer up from the Harry Potter book I’ve been reading, more than a little shocked and wide-eyed to see Mel across the kitchen table, pointing down at aCosmopolitanmagazine in front of her. A magazine far too mature for the likes of us.
I still like reading about the whirlwind romance between Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber. I think they’ll totally go the distance and get married someday, but Mel thinks Biebs will break her heart.
I do a quick glance around the room to make sure we’re not overheard by anyone, but Melodie’s grandmother is out at the store, and Miles just got home from work and jumped in the shower before dinner. One of the primary reasons I’ve been staying around longer at Mel’s every day is so I can get a chance to see Miles.
And when he came home a few minutes ago from his lifeguard job, he was tan, dripping with sweat and was so dang hot I could barely speak. I kept my head down in my book for the majority of the time he was in the kitchen, grabbing a soda and snacks. He’d asked Mel how her day was and where Granny was, and that was that.
But I imagine if he returned right now and overheard us having a conversation about sex, I would die of embarrassment.
“Mel,shhh,” I reprimand with my finger over my lips to quiet her down. “You shouldn’t talk about those things. Especially if your brother might accidentally overhear.”
She lets out a cackle of a laugh. “Are you for real right now? Just last week, I caught Miles down in the basement, getting busy with Jessie D’Marco. He couldn’t care less if we’re talking about S. E. X.”
Then she seems to rethink her statement, her expression going from know-it-all to contrite. “Well, he has said he’d kill any boy that tries it with me, though. I guess he has very different opinions on talking versus doing.”
Over the years, Mel and I have had conversations about everything under the sun. From how long it takes Princess Leia fromStar Warsto do her hair. To discussing the crazy antics of theWizards of Waverly Placeand how I wanted to meet Selena someday. She’s my idol.
Or how we’d try to do our best Hannah Montana southern drawl impression when we talked and played pretend. Or whether aliens on other planets really existed, a topic of serious debate after we’d watched the movie,Signs.
We had great times together, always. Until recently, my friendship with Melodie had been rock solid, and we’d stayed safely in the PG-rated zone. While I wasn’t a Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes, I was baptized Catholic. This past fall, I’d begun attending weekly catechism classes, receiving loads of religious education and doctrine related toTheBible, God’s word, and how we as children of God should behave and save ourselves for marriage.
And sex before marriage was most definitely not on the good behavior list.
But over this past summer, I’d begun seeing distinct changes in Melodie. When she was alone with me, she was her same old self. But when we were out in public together, she’d walk and talk differently. Wear tighter and skimpier clothes. And would even curse using the F-word, which she’d never used before.
The day she said it, we’d been sitting on the stoop in front of the library, talking with Lizzie Barrington and Brittany Feldman, and I nearly choked on my Cherry Vanilla ICEE I’d just bought from the 7-Eleven down the street. My jaw dropped at her profanity and use of the F-bomb, incredulous that she said it out loud and in public, no less!
This new incarnation of a more mature and rebellious Melodie was someone I was slowly beginning not to recognize or relate to. But seeing as she was my best friend, I knew I had to stick by her no matter what. I knew her stepdad had been a dick before he left them, and her mother had recently died. Those incidents alone were enough to change a person’s heart and demeanor.
I reminded myself that it was just growing pains and a period of change for Mel, and I’d stay by her side and wait it out.
Resigned to acknowledging Mel’s question about sex, I close my book, and give her my full attention, propping my elbows on the table and cupping my chin in my hands.
“I’m ready. Tell me all about it.”
She giggles and leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Boys like girls to put their wieners in their mouths and have girls blow on them.”
