Melt With You

by Addison Moore

  Kelly comes over with Michelle, her ever-present henchman, by her side.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t peg-leg Mouse-akowski.” She sneers. God, I hate that name. I abhor that terrible moniker. I refuse to react or say a single word because I know for a fact in less than ten minutes Joel is coming back to get me and not either of these twisted ugly stepsisters. Kelly may be physical perfection on the outside, but I’m not blind. I can see right through that flawless countenance. The empress not only has no clothes—she also has no heart.

  “So, like what happened?” Michelle blows a bubble and then births another one inside that, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by this double-bubble feat. She has her hair up in a side ponytail. Michelle has all of her scrunchies handmade to match her wardrobe, so it doesn’t surprise me to see one in black and gold, the school colors. “Karen Clifton said she saw you jump in front of Joel’s truck. You like, trying to off yourself or something?”

  “Yeah, like try harder next time.” Kelly pulls her keys out, and they walk away before I can answer.

  Off myself? They wish. Nope. I’m sticking around for the long haul, and I don’t give a shit what either Kelly or Michelle has to say about that.

  I pluck the tiny Village Lip Lickers tin out of my pocket and grease my finger with the balm before applying it so I don’t look like such a loser just standing here by myself. Watermelon, my favorite. For a second, I envision kissing Joel with it and him declaring watermelon is his favorite, too. It would serve Kelly right for suggesting I off myself.

  Joel showers and changes, emerging with his damp hair still holding droplets around his neck.

  “How was your first day?” He hoists my backpack over his shoulder and helps me down the stairs.

  “Interesting.” I take the last step a little too wide and land just inches shy of his chest. I look up at him, panting, out of breath for a million different reasons. “And yours?”

  Joel locks those glacial blue eyes onto mine a few moments too long before glancing to the goalpost. “Interesting is a perfect word for it.”

  All the way home I wonder if that’s a good thing or not.

  Joel

  The first week of school sucks the living hell out of me, so when Kelly insists I make an appearance at Stacey Riley’s party and tries to guilt me into it I fumble for excuses. The first game isn’t until next week and every guy on the team is going, so I’m pretty much strapped for excuses.

  “I’ll come”—I sigh into the phone—“but I have to bring Melissa.” I give a sly grin at Russell who’s shaking his head. He’s over so much my father is threatening to charge rent. My parents have converted the downstairs bedroom into a game room equipped with a pool table and a couple of sofas. The game room is the real reason he’s over so much. The TV’s not the best, but it’s where I have the Atari set up, so I spend more time down here than I do in my own room. Frankie is here just as much, too.

  “I’m like so sure. You can’t bring that thing to my party.”

  I frown at the receiver. “She’s not a thing, and it’s not your party.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Stacey is my bitch. If I say I don’t want Mouse-akowski at my party, it ain’t happening. Like, you know?”

  “No.” I flatline. “Like I don’t know.” I’m openly mocking her at this point, and Russell nods to me as if asking the question what’s up? “Look, I gotta run. Tell Stacey I’ll hit the next one.” I don’t wait for some long, drawn-out goodbye—I simply hang up the phone.

  “Dude.” Russell shakes his head, his eyes still locked on Paperboy. He’s almost as good at the game as I am, but I’m still a few levels ahead. “Kelly isn’t going to sit idle while some girl takes her place.”

  “Why does anybody think some girl is taking her place?” I take a sip of my Mountain Dew. “I just don’t feel like going to Stacey’s.”

  “You really picking up this chick and taking her?”

  “No. You’re the chick I’m picking up. Hand me the controller.”

  “Dude, you just lied to your girlfriend.”

  I take a deep breath considering this. My father and those late nights he’s been pulling at the office come to mind, and that phone call I intercepted a few weeks ago comes back to haunt me.

  “I’m not a liar.” I pick up the phone and call Melissa, but it’s not Stacey’s party I’m inviting her to. It’s a much more private gathering.

  * * *

  It turns out, Melissa is happy to get out of the house tonight. She’s smiling and bubbling with laughter, despite the fact she has a spiral fracture twisting its way up her femur. If this were Kelly, there would be hell to pay each and every day of the week for even looking at her leg funny, let alone demolishing it with my bumper.

  I help Melissa into the truck, and we listen to the radio turned up to KMET all the way back to my house. Again, if this were Kelly, she would have not only turned it down—she would have turned the station. She’s not into metal by a long shot. I’m guessing Melissa is too polite to do something like that, but judging by the way she was swaying to the music, smiling, singing along to “Rainbow in the Dark” for shit’s sake—something tells me this isn’t some nice act she’s putting on to impress me—she’s genuinely an all-around awesome girl.

  I help her through the back door that leads straight to the downstairs room.

  “I’ll take those.” I toss the crutches in first. “Put your hands here.” I place them over my shoulders. “Lean against my back, and I’ll get you down.”

  Melissa is light as a feather, so getting to the bottom of the stairs is easy enough. She laughs the whole way, and I can feel her chest vibrating over my back as we make our down.

  Russell looks dumbfounded as we stumble in. “Um, hi?” He shakes his head at me as if asking what the hell?

  “Russ, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is Russ.”

  It takes less than five minutes of awkward hellos and abrupt starts and stops to brief, pointless conversations for Russell to hit the road.

  “Please don’t go!” Melissa calls after him, but he assures us he’s late to the party. Melissa twists into me on the sofa as I land a soda in front of her. Her lips curl in a cute way that makes me smile involuntarily. “How come you’re not at the party?”

  “How come you’re not at the party?” I crack the lid on her drink and give it back to her.

  “I don’t do the party thing with or without my broken leg.” She shrugs. “Actually, I was outlining an essay. I’m entering this contest—it’s pretty stupid.”

  “I’m sure it’s not stupid. What’s it about?”

  “It’s just an essay contest through Teen magazine. I’m hoping to get my work published one day.”

  “Essay, huh?” I wince. “Sounds brutal. But I’m impressed that you want to get published. I’m sure you will. Writing on a Friday night tells me you’re pretty dedicated.”

  Her face smooths out as if I’ve just doled out the insult of the century, and I might have.

  “Sorry, I just I meant—”

  “No, it’s like totally okay.” She laughs it off before taking a sip of her soda. “New Coke is awesome by the way.”

  I flinch when she says it. “Please tell me you’re kidding me. It’s all I have, and trust me, my mother does not know better.”

  Melissa wrinkles her nose and gives a quiet laugh. “Okay, it’s pretty crappy. But it’s cold and wet, and I’m dying of thirst, so thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I relax back into the cushions. “I knew you couldn’t go to the party, and I didn’t think it was fair that I go. So I wanted to hang out. Is that such a bad thing?”

  “Nope.” She gives a suspicious glance around. “So, what do you do down here? Is this like your sexual dungeon where you lure all the girls? Oh, wait. Don’t answer that. You’ve got just the one. How can I forget?”

  There’s an edge of sarcasm in her voice, and it makes me like her that much more.

  A dark laugh rumbles through
me. “You’re funny.” I nod over at a small stack of videos next to her. “You up for watching a movie? We’ve got ON TV, and Russ has Select, so between us we record as much as we can.” We have an entire stockpile of The Benny Hill Show, too, but I’m slow to make the perverted offer.

  “You know you can go to prison for that, right? It’s like totally illegal.” She lets out a little giggle, and it’s cute as hell.

  “Yeah, the FBI has warned me, but I like to live dangerously.”

  She picks up one of the videos and examines it. “Betamax—that’s really cool. My dad chose a VHS.” She rolls her eyes. “But to his credit, he did get us a lifetime membership at the Video Hut. It was like an extra forty bucks, but he figured he could pass it down to my siblings and me one day, and we’ll have it forever.”

  “That’s cool. And I actually think VHS is better. I’m trying to get my parents to make the switch.” I’m kind of liking the sound of her voice, soft and subtle. She’s a breath of fresh air compared to Kelly. A girl who doesn’t scream at me or put me down at random—imagine that. On second thought, a movie would be like a forced two-hour lull in our conversation. I pull a few board games from under the table. “You up for something? Monopoly?”

  She shakes her head. “I like Simon, though.” She pulls the huge disc forward and flicks it on. Melissa’s hair glows a rainbow of colors as the game runs through its start-up mode. “I have the pocket version. This one was a little bit more than I could afford.” Her eyes grow big as she looks back up at me, and the buzzer bleats. “I mean, I’m not broke or anything, but like, this is really awesome, that’s all.” Her cheeks turn pink, and she’s quick to shut it off. “So, you have Atari? That’s really cool. What games do you have?”

  Something in me loosens. I can’t remember the last time I had a girl over, and it was purely platonic—or one that even remotely cared about what games I might have for my Atari.

  “A ton.” I pull out a few games and fan them out. “I’ve got two controllers. Want to play?”

  “Are you kidding? Yes—like right now.” She laughs as I move everything closer so she doesn’t have to get up.

  “Cool, cool. Let’s get this party started.” We play round after round of Asteroids, Paperboy, Berzerk, and Centipede.

  “You’re pretty good.” I knock my shoulder into hers.

  “Say it—I’m pretty good for a girl.” She knocks back into me, and I laugh.

  “Why are you so sexist, Macuski?”

  “It’s Malinowski, but I don’t blame you for not getting it right. It’s sort of a mouthful.”

  “Sorry, Malinowski. It is a mouthful, but I want to get it right.”

  “My mom almost kept her maiden name—Cox.” She rolls her eyes. “Can you imagine the horror? Melissa Cox?”

  “I think you’d be pretty screwed.” We laugh it off as we continue the game. I know if I told Kelly that little piece of non-news, she’d make sure the entire damn school knew about it. I’m not breathing a word. “So, what kind of music do you like?”

  “All kinds.” She takes a deep breath. “I know this is going to sound lame, but I really wanted to be new wave. My sister controls the radio at home, so I’m pretty much stuck listening to metal.”

  “First, nobody can be new wave.” I rock back into her just as my man dies, and I toss the controller.

  “Thank you for pointing that out—sore loser.”

  “Very funny. And heavy metal?” I perk up. “Hell yeah. So, do you like any of it, or are you just putting up with it?”

  “There’s some I like more than others.” Her teeth graze over her bottom lip, and I watch as it turns white then blood red. Melissa has perfect bowtie lips, the kind you see in comic strips like Betty Boop. “Ozzy, some Sabbath. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a little addicted to Dio. ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ is my favorite, but I like ‘Holy Diver,’ too.” Her cheeks turn an instant shade of crimson. “How about you?”

  “That’s it for me—classic rock, stuff like that. I’ve got KLOS and KMET dialed into my truck.” A thought comes to me. “You know what? Your sister’s not here.” I hop up and pull my boom box over to the table. “What do you want to listen to? KROQ?”

  “Really? Like, yes, that’d be totally cool!” She recoils quickly. “But I don’t want to torture you or anything.”

  “It’s not torture—yet.” I point a playful finger at her. The radio comes to life, and I fiddle with the dial until the station comes in clear. “‘Hold Me Now.’” I cock my head to the side as if offering a proposition before snapping out of it. It’s like I don’t even know how to talk to a girl without hitting on her.

  “You know your Thompson Twins. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m not living under a rock.” I open the drawer in the end table and fish around until I find a Sharpie. “You might be living under a rock,” I tease. “But I’m pretty well-rounded with my musical tastes. And thanks to your radio-hogging sister, so are you. I like that.” I hold up the marker and point to her leg. “You mind?”

  “Oh my gosh, not at all!” she cries with excitement, scooting up onto the couch. “Go for it.”

  “Am I your first?” I inspect her cast from back to front and find it pristine, crisp, and white as if it were just issued yesterday. I guess it sort of was, but my heart breaks for her again. I know she has friends, at least two or three—you’d think someone would have offered to ink it up by now.

  “Someone has to go first. It might as well be you. You’re the reason I’m in it.” She laughs, and it comes out good-natured, not at all the bitch-fest it would have if, God forbid, I had done this to Kelly.

  “You’re too nice,” I muse, plucking the cap off the pen and thinking a minute on what I should say. “You know, out of all the girls I could have hit, I’m pretty glad it was you. Some girls would have been pretty pissed about this.” I’m only half-kidding.

  “I’m not glad it was me, but I’m not pissed either.”

  “So you say.” I touch the pen over her knee. “Here okay?”

  “Wherever. I’m an open canvas. Just be gentle,” she teases. “You are my first.”

  I push out a dirty grin. Melissa’s eyes shine through the dimly lit room an illuminated lime green, and I stare at them a second too long. “I’ll try to go easy. They say the first time sucks for girls anyway.”

  She tenses beneath me, and I glance up to find her face a pulsating beet red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Shit. Did I? I feel like an ass.

  “Are you kidding? You hit me with your truck. It’s like you live to make me uncomfortable.”

  “You’re a comedian.” I finish up and admire my work.

  “You are the best girl to hit on,” she reads it slow as her lips contort to a solid O. “Oh my gosh, Joel!” She swats me with a pillow. “You’re a pig!”

  “What? I hit you with my truck, remember?” A crooked grin manages to break loose. “All right. Relax. I can fix this.” I glance back down, trying to figure out how to untangle this knot.

  “Maybe you can add with my truck? That way, people—like Kelly—won’t think you’re out to hit on innocent girls walking down the street.”

  “Got it.” I add with my truck, still unimpressed with the final outcome. I couldn’t care less what Kelly thinks after the way she was poking fun at Melissa for no reason. I sign it Sorry! Joel.

  “Well done. Now I’ll have to bribe my friends to sign it so it doesn’t look so lonely.”

  “Who are those girls you hang out with?”

  She rattles off a few names, and I shake my head. “I guess I don’t know them.”

  Melissa holds back a smile, and a tiny divot sinks just above her cheek. “Let’s hope your truck doesn’t plan on making any more introductions.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I hesitate a moment. “Can I ask if Kelly’s been giving you any problems?” I hate even bringing her up, but I’m afraid I know the answer.

  She makes a face. “Just the evil e
ye—doing her best to body check me in the bathroom when she can—for the most part, she keeps her distance.”

  “Good.” I think.

  “Can I ask if Kelly’s been giving you any problems?” she parrots the question right back at me. “Inquiring minds sort of want to know. Especially this one.” She says it shy, quiet as if she were ashamed on some level.

  “Not yet.” A lopsided grin digs into my cheek because there are no truer words. Kelly’s wrath is coming. I can feel the flames of her fury from a mile away. “But soon.”

  “Should I be afraid for you?” She gives my knee a gentle push with her good foot and bites back a smile.

  “If I said no, I’d be a liar.” We share a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll go in with a shield.”

  Around eleven, I drive her home and help her to the door.

  “I can take it from here.” She fumbles for her key, her fingers suddenly jittery.

  “Cool.” I back up in the event she feels like I’m about to attack her. “I’ll pick you up Monday.”

  “Are you sure?” Her hair fans out over her head, and the light shines through it like a halo. Something about the way she’s standing there—that sweet look on her face— she really does look like an angel.

  “I’m sure.”

  By the time I get back to my driveway, I find Kelly’s Cabriolet parked deep in it. There she is, standing right in front of me, legs parted in a defiant stance, arms crossed tight over her chest.

  It was a great night—and now, there will be hell to pay.

  3

  Head Over Heels

  Melissa

  All week Joel insists on taking me to and from school, not to mention helping me to and from my classes. On Friday, he actually sat down at our table and ate lunch with Jennifer and me. Heather stayed home with bad allergies, but when I called and told her what she had missed out on, she nearly had an aneurysm.

  Since Heather missed school, her mom refused to let her come to the game tonight. So it’s just Jennifer and me getting ready in my room, trying on different outfits, spending hours teasing and spraying the ever-loving crap out of our hair—and don’t even get me started on the arsenal of makeup vomited over my bed.