Wanna-Be (chapter 1)

The next day when I walked into school, Melody wasn’t there. Figuring she was sick, I thought little of it. But after two weeks of her absence, I began to have a very strong feeling that it was my fault. Finally, on the third week’s Friday, I did what our clique had built never to do: I called Melody. She didn’t pick up. I left four harshly said words on her answering machine: “Come to school tomorrow.” Not wanting her to think I was being nice, I slammed the phone down into the receiver, sure that the answering machine had picked up my harshness in both the message and the slam. The next morning, I procrastinated going into the classroom. When I finally convinced myself to, I quickly saw she wasn’t there. I sighed with relief, guilt, and annoyance. Relief because I wouldn’t have to explain, guilt because she was angry and probably wondered why we ‘lied’ to the guards, and annoyed because she was still mad. I didn’t fare well when I knew somebody was angry with me. With my popularity, people were never mad at me, and were mad at Melody for being angry at me. At recess, when I had finally relaxed, Melody came to school. “Hello.” I said coldly. “Hey!” Melody called, perky as ever. I rolled my eyes. Ugh! She thought we still liked her. Melody had two bruises that were so big they connected at her nose. Her face was completely black and blue from the double punches she had received. It was a spring afternoon, almost summer, yet Melody wore long sleeves and pants. She’s totally black and blue. ‘Half to death.’ I remembered, sick to the stomach. She looked like she longed to roll up her sleeves and pant legs. She was sweating so badly (and grossly) that she might as well have been in an oven. The sun beat down on us as I watched the other kids sweat, even though they were wearing shorts, tank-tops, and t-shirts. Shouldn’t she melt? I thought, looking at Melody. She seemed about ready to melt into a puddle on the blacktop. “Why’d you do that?” She asked. “Why’d you lie to the guards?” “It wasn’t a lie.” I said. My voice was hard. “Yes it was!” Melody said. “We’re best friends!” “No, Melody, we aren’t!” I shouted, grinding me teeth together. It was all I could do so that I wouldn’t pounce on her and rip open the cuts that were all over her body. Melody laughed. “Yes we are. What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about this: We don’t mean to hurt your feelings. Well, actually, we do.” “We as in who?” “The clique,” “You mean our clique?” Melody asked. “No, Melody, not our clique. Nobody likes you. Not in our clique, anyway. You are seriously a wanna-be, and are seriously stalking us. Go bother somebody else, won’t you? You are annoying, and copy everything we do. You are reading Twilight only because it used to be my favorite book. You change your opinions just because we like or dislike something. I mean this in a literal way: Get a life.” “I do not copy you!” Melody screamed. “What is you’re new favorite book, anyway?” “Uglies, Pretties, and Specials.” I replied icily. “Oh, I love those books!” “Have you read them? TELL THE TRUTH!!!” “No.” Melody said. “See? Copying me again! Right in front of me, too. Pitiful.” I said, shaking my head. “Look, we don’t like you. So stop stalking us. Nobody likes you in this school, and you’ve got to face the facts.” “That’s not true!” Melody cried, though I was sure she knew very well that it was. “‘I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone’,” I quoted from one of Gerard Way’s songs. Gerard Way is the singer of MCR. “Are you?” I asked. “No.” Melody said, her voice shaky. “A lie again.” I said, smiling menacingly. “Admit it. You are afraid to have no friends. Well you shouldn’t be. Because you don’t have any, so you’ll have to deal with it anyway.” “Okay, so what if I am?!” Melody screamed, breaking into tears. “Look,” I said, returning to my calm voice, but still wearing my menacing smile. “Don’t be.” I soothed, but somehow I managed to say that in a soothingly mean voice. I stroked her arm, hurting her bruises. My hand burned from her touch, so I wiped my hand on the brick wall next to us. “OW!” She screamed, clamping her bruised hand over her bruised arm where I had brushed her arm. This hurt more. “OUCCHHH!!!” She screamed, crying with pain. “Just relax.” I said. “Here you go, take this. It’s My Chemical Romance’s songs. They will always be with you, and never leave you alone. It’s in order of what most applies to you.” I said, smiling menacingly. “The first is ‘Famous Last Words’. You know, with ‘I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone.’” I smiled menacingly again, but this time the hint of evil was all over it, and then I walked away. As a last evil thing to do I called, “You’ve got a bee on you.” And snickered and walked away in hysteria, for Melody was rolling on the ground crying because there was no bee. But she had believed it and smacked herself multiple times. Then, a real bee, sensing that she was going to hurt the nest, flew over. “A bee!” I called. And she didn’t listen, thinking I was lying again, and got stung. People cheered and I was carried around the shoulders of my friends. The whole school congratulated me for one month before the cheers died out when I would enter the school or a classroom. Brittney and the rest of our clique became fabulous friends. Occasionally, when the Melody subject of how I stopped her came up, I would tease Brittney by saying, “I thought you promised no tears. Her rolling on the floor sobbing is tears.” Then we would roll over in the hysteria just remembering. It was the same hysteria as when it first happened. And Melody never came near us again.