Melody watched in awe as Freddie’s fingers danced up and down the neck of the guitar, performing music gymnastics on the strings. She noticed a soft blush reddening his cheeks and followed his gaze deep into the audience to see Mr Bloom and Freddie’s siblings waving from their row. His father shot him an encouraging thumbs-up as Freddie rocked out on stage, proving to everyone at Battyville Elite School For Musically Gifted Children that he deserved to be there just as much, if not more, than them.
Yet one day she’s certain,
That someone will see,
The girl in the tower,
And what she will be.
Thunderous applause filled the room after the final strains of Melody’s song faded away. People shouted ‘Encore!’ until their throats burned.
But Mr and Mrs Trumpet stayed slumped in their seats throughout the entire performance, too shocked to move at the news Melody had been writing lyrics all this time.
On stage, Mr Pizzicato walked over to Melody, Freddie and Clementine. ‘Marvellous work,’ he said. ‘All of you. The arrangement. The harmonies. And, Melody, the words were . . . well, quite simply beautiful.’
Melody bit her lip. ‘Thanks, Mr P.’
‘I’m so sorry for failing you, my dear,’ he said, dabbing at his wet eyes with his shirt-sleeve. ‘I missed the very thing that makes you . . . well, you. Songwriting! It must have been the only thing we didn’t try.’
‘It’s okay,’ Melody said.
‘Your friends are right: you are extraordinary, and I’m sorry I never helped you understand that. My only solace is that you learned this valuable lesson despite my carelessness. Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Of course.’ Melody squeezed Mr Pizzicato’s arm. ‘As long as you never make me play the flugelhorn again.’
They grinned at each other.
The sounds of an enormous party swelled around them, until suddenly the crowd’s joyous cheers were replaced by shrieks.
Melody turned to see her parents wrestling with the police officers. Feathers and pearls were flying everywhere!
‘Somebody stop them!’ cried someone in the audience. ‘They’re trying to flee!’
‘Liars! Fakes!’ shouted someone else.
Mr Trumpet managed to get two officers in a headlock, one under each arm. Mrs Trumpet tickled another two officers with her feather boa and wriggled free from their attempt to put her in handcuffs.
Panting and screeching, Melody’s parents made a beeline straight for their daughter on the stage.
‘Our beautiful, talented, extraordinary child,’ whimpered Mrs Trumpet, her mascara smeared down her cheeks, her once-perfect chignon bun collapsed into a frizzy mess.
‘I suggest you leave her alone, ma’am,’ Mr Pizzicato said, stepping in front of Melody. ‘Surely enough damage has been done.’
‘It’s alright, Mr P,’ Melody said. ‘I can handle this.’
Mrs Trumpet shot a dark look at Mr Pizzicato. ‘You traitor!’ she hissed, before turning back to Melody with a huge, false smile. Melody could see lipstick smudged on her front teeth. ‘How the people love you, my little cream puff. You’re a star! A real Trumpet now.’
Melody’s jaw hardened. ‘No, Mother, I’m still me. You just never saw me before.’
‘Let’s not worry about the details. The important thing is we finally have a worthy heir,’ boomed Mr Trumpet, pinching Melody on the cheek. ‘The Trumpet empire is complete. I say we get Royce to bring the limousine around to collect us. This calls for a celebration.’
Melody didn’t bother mentioning that Royce was currently tied up with Allira’s rhythmic gymnastics ribbon in the school cafeteria.
‘And another press conference, Barry,’ Mrs Trumpet said, fluffing her hair. She turned to the audience. ‘Who wants to interview me about Melody? I always believed she would prove her worth to the world one day. Also, don’t forget my album goes on sale tomorrow —’
‘Stop right there!’ cried the senior police officer. He and his officers circled the Trumpets and handcuffed them. ‘Viola and Barry T Trumpet, you’re under arrest for fraud and kidnapping.’
Mr Trumpet burst into tears and blubbered for his mummy.
Mrs Trumpet promised to give every police officer a signed copy of her entire music collection if they let her go. When her pleas were ignored, she turned to the nearest TV camera with bloodshot eyes. ‘You won’t forget this — you won’t forget us!’ she spat out. ‘Everyone will remember the Trumpet name for as long as they live.’
She wasn’t wrong about that, Melody thought.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Mumma Rose said, and Moe barked in agreement.
‘You read my mind,’ Melody said.
She walked down the stage steps with Clementine and Freddie and The Workshop troupe, ignoring the crowd’s requests for hugs, autographs and photos.
Someone shrieked her name over the din. A news reporter with a slimy smirk and a cameraman in hot pursuit appeared in front of her. ‘You’re on live television, Melody! Can I ask you a few questions?’
‘No, thanks,’ she said, walking past them. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘But this is your day,’ said the reporter, chasing her with the microphone. ‘How does it feel to be —’
‘You heard her, she said no!’ Freddie said to him. ‘Now back off.’
The reporter snorted. ‘But it’s the Melody Trumpet show. Melody, everyone is here at Crescendo Hall for you. Isn’t this what you always dreamed of? Attention, fame, your name in lights?’
Melody stopped and crinkled her nose. ‘No. Not at all. In fact, sometimes . . .’
Her voice trailed off as she watched the police take away her handcuffed parents. Her father was sobbing onto an officer’s shoulder, while her mother warbled one of her famous arias to the cameras. Her final performance before the police locked them up and threw away the key.
‘Sometimes people need to be careful what they wish for,’ Melody finished.
With that, she marched towards the exit, her gaze locked straight ahead. Moe trotted along at her side, and her friends somersaulted, cartwheeled and juggled behind her.
32.
The perfect place
‘Now what?’ Freddie asked when they reached the school gates. ‘Back to Trumpet Manor?’
Melody rolled her eyes. ‘Not yet. Not after being cooped up in my bedroom for days.’
‘Just kidding,’ he said. ‘Although the entire place is yours now. And I used to think having a wing to yourself was cool.’
Gaff raised an eyebrow. ‘Think of the parties you can throw.’
‘Don’t forget the swimming pool,’ said Slack.
‘And the menagerie,’ Allira added. ‘I’ve always wanted to cuddle a llama, and you have five!’
‘We’ll enjoy it all, I promise, but first . . . I have an idea,’ Melody said. She hopped onto the bicycle.
‘Wait, you can ride a bike now?’ Clementine asked, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And did you steal that?’
‘That haircut really has changed you,’ Freddie said.
‘No, I just borrowed it for an uncertain amount of time,’ Melody said, trading grins with Mumma Rose. ‘Follow me, everyone!’
Together, they travelled through the streets of Battyville — Freddie on his skateboard, Mumma Rose, Allira, Gaff and Slack on their unicycles, Clementine balanced on Slack’s shoulders with Moe in her arms — until they arrived at Melody’s destination: Clementine’s favourite spot in the centre of Town Square.
‘Home, sweet home,’ Clementine said. ‘Nice choice, kid. But I don’t have my guitar.’
‘And I don’t have my keyboard,’ Freddie added.
‘You told me anything can work if we do it together,’ Melody said. ‘So let’s do it with just voices, a cappella, and make it the ultimate Workshop performance.’
‘Thought you’d never ask,’ Slack said. ‘Everyone in position!’
Gaff cracked his neck, Allira did some quick stretches and Mumma Rose
fished out her juggling balls.
‘Wait, which song?’ asked Freddie. ‘Weren’t you working on a new one?’
Melody smiled, remembering him hiding the piece of paper in his mouth. There hadn’t exactly been time to polish the new words since then!
‘Let’s go with what I scribbled down at The Workshop,’ she said.
‘Perfect,’ Mumma Rose said, giving Melody’s hand a squeeze. ‘A full circle.’
Clementine waved over a few people wandering through Town Square. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my honour to stand here before . . . well, nine of you.’ She gestured to another group, calling them to join the audience. ‘This is an exclusive unplugged performance so come in closer, folks. You don’t want to miss a thing.’
‘Actually, this was a bad idea,’ Melody whispered to Freddie. ‘What was I thinking?’
‘We’re all here,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fun, remember?’
The audience had swollen to about fifty people, thanks to Allira twirling one of her ribbons while she balanced on Slack’s shoulders.
Clementine clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. ‘This is a song written by the one and only Melody Trumpet — the girl who puts the extraordinary in ordinary.’ She winked at Melody. ‘A one, a two, a one, two, three, four . . .’
Here we are,
Just us four . . .
‘Oops, sorry Melody, there’re eight of us now!’
Hours in the sun,
Together on this day . . .
As always, Clementine sang vocals with Moe by her side; Freddie was on percussion, hitting the cobblestones with two sticks, and singing back-up; while Mumma Rose, Allira, Slack and Gaff formed a juggling, ribbon-twirling, fire-breathing circle around them.
How long I have dreamed,
For a place such as this,
Where time disappears,
And adventure can begin.
Melody’s heart beat faster as she murmured the words to herself, humming along with Clementine’s ethereal vocals.
It was all messy and new,
They smiled so I smiled too . . .
‘Shall we do the last bit together?’ Clementine whispered to Melody out of the corner of her mouth as the crowd clapped at Allira’s backflip off Slack’s shoulders. ‘Only if you want to.’
‘I don’t know . . .’ Melody swallowed. ‘What if I make a mistake?’
But then she remembered Clementine’s words from the other day: We’ll keep going with their laughter ringing in our ears.
Melody looked at the crowd in Town Square. There were no judgmental looks, cruel sniggers or disappointed faces. There was nothing to be afraid of.
‘I’m in,’ she said, her face cracking into a beaming smile. For once, she could be herself without letting down her parents or getting in trouble. Flawed, extraordinarily imperfect Melody.
‘Ready?’ Freddie asked.
‘Nope. Not at all. But you know what, Freddie Bloom, after everything we’ve been through, I’ll survive.’
With her eyes closed and mouth wide open, Melody sang the words that she’d never dared to sing before:
Everything to gain,
And nothing to prove,
On this day.
Her voice squeaked and croaked like always, but she didn’t mind. She was lost in the feeling, and her heart thumped to the beat of coins raining onto the concrete.
She had found somewhere to belong.
The kind of place that was in her head . . .
The perfect place for her.
Acknowledgements
First, a huge thanks to the HarperCollins dream team: Lisa Berryman, Cristina Cappelluto, Eve Tonelli, Nicola O’Shea, Michelle Weisz, Georgia Williams, Jacqui Barton, Kady Holt and Pam Dunne. A special shoutout also goes to illustrator Risa Rodil for bringing my beloved Melody to life on the cover in such a clever and charming way.
To all my favourite people, including my family, friends and readers: you’re the best cheerleaders a writer could ask for. I adore going on this creative ride with you all and can’t wait for our next adventure together. Much love to Mum and Dad for their continuous support, especially during the race towards the finish line.
And, as always, here’s looking at my first reader: JT. It’s no exaggeration to say I wouldn’t have finished the first draft of this novel without your patience, feedback and strawberry Freddo Frog snack runs. Sienna and I are so lucky to have such a kind and imaginative soul in our lives.
About the Author
GABRIELLE TOZER is an award-winning and internationally published author and freelance writer based in Sydney, Australia. She has published five books, including the young adult novels Remind Me How This Ends (which was on the Children’s Book Council of Australia’s 2018 Notable list and longlisted for the 2018 Gold Inky Award), Faking It and The Intern, which won the 2015 Gold Inky Award.
Her first picture book, Peas and Quiet (illustrated by Sue deGennaro), was published in 2017, as was her young-adult short story ‘The Feeling From Over Here’ (featured in Begin, End, Begin: A #LoveOzYA Anthology). Melody Trumpet is her first children’s novel, and she is currently working on another young adult novel and picture book. (Yes, that’s why she still hasn’t brushed her hair.)
Gabrielle loves sharing her passion for storytelling and creativity with readers and aspiring writers, and has appeared at numerous events including the Sydney Writers’ Festival and the Children’s Book Council of Australia’s national conference.
Say hello: gabrielletozer.com
Also by Gabrielle Tozer
Young adult fiction
The Intern (2014)
Faking It (2015)
Remind Me How This Ends (2017)
‘The Feeling From Over Here’
(Begin, End, Begin: A #LoveOzYA Anthology, 2017)
Children’s fiction
Peas and Quiet (2017)
Copyright
Angus & Robertson
An imprint of HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks, Australia
First published in Australia in 2019
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Gabrielle Tozer 2019
The right of Gabrielle Tozer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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ISBN 978 1 4607 5497 9 (paperback)
ISBN 978 1 4607 0936 8 (ebook)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia
Cover illustration and design by Risa Rodil
Melody Trumpet Page 15
