Saving Me

by Sadie Allen

  “Where did y’all get that?”

  “Pops got it at Best Buy this morning. It’ll be Jack’s next birthday present when we’re done.” He handed me two CD cases. One read “Party Time Karaoke,” and the other was from our musical.

  “It’s a nice thing your pops is doing for Elodie,” I said quietly. I couldn’t remember any of my former friends’ parents ever doing anything remotely this nice for me or, well, even their own kids.

  “He’s known Elodie since she was a baby. Her dad is a hobbyist. Owns a Stingray.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t known that. The only things I knew about Elodie’s parents were that her mom was white, her dad was black, and they both had been in the military.

  As we walked through the door, a bell jingled overhead. I saw Pops by the counter, talking to a tiny, elderly woman whose hair seemed to make up the majority of her height. Pops caught our eye and motioned us over.

  “Sterling, Ally, this is Sally Lafayette,” Pops introduced.

  Sterling let go of my hand and reached out for a shake. “Ms. Lafayette.”

  She knocked his hand aside and wrapped her frail-looking arms around him for a quick squeeze, saying in a scratchy smoker’s voice, “Family don’t shake hands around here.”

  Sterling made an uncomfortable yet amused face and patted her back with his free hand, the other still holding the machine.

  She leaned back, hands still attached to his arms, and declared in a hoarse cry, “Woo-ee, you are the spittin’ image of Silas at that age.”

  When she let go, he then hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me forward. “This is my girlfriend, Ally Everly.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile that stretched my face. This was the first time he had introduced me publicly as his girlfriend. I could feel B & E’s eyes on us, but I didn’t care.

  I, too, reached forward to shake her hand, but she accepted mine and gave it a vigorous two-handed shake.

  She looked at Sterling and proclaimed, “She’s a looker, honey. Pretty like my Sunny. She’s at culinary school right now in Dallas with her handsome boyfriend.”

  “Oh. Um, well … thank you.” I didn’t know who Sunny was, but she was evidently important to Sally.

  “Love the hair color.” She flashed a perfectly straight, dingy, bedentured smile.

  “Told you so,” I heard Blake hiss from my left.

  “Can we set up anywhere?” Sterling asked, evidently ready to get the show on the road.

  “Pretty much, but that spot would probably work best. There’s a plug and everyone can see you over there.” Sally gestured to an area in front next to a wall.

  The diner started to fill as we set up the machine—well, as Sterling set up the machine. The rest of us stood around and watched.

  Pops dragged over a barstool from the counter so the machine didn’t sit on the floor and so everyone would be able to see the screen when their turn came. Then he went back to his own stool at the counter and his coffee.

  It was decided on the way over that everyone, except Pops of course, would get a turn. We were going to be like the commercial breaks in the Elodie show.

  Once Sterling had it set up, he held his hand out for a CD.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “Let’s do the party CD and end on her Grease solo,” Blake said.

  Sterling nodded his agreement, Elodie made a funny noise, and I just handed Sterling both CDs.

  “I’ll go first,” Blake volunteered.

  The three of us moved to the red faux leather booth next to the machine, me and Sterling on one side and Elodie on the other.

  Sterling handed Elodie the CD case and instructed, “See what songs on there you want to sing, and then we’ll pick. It’s your show.”

  The bouncy opening beats of “Fancy” by Iggy Azalea came out of the little speaker surprisingly loud, and Blake’s hilarious imitation of the female singer had everyone alternately bobbing their heads and chuckling. Once he was done with his over-the-top performance, the sparse crowd applauded, and he moved to the side.

  I glanced at Elodie, who hadn’t moved from her seat and seemed to be mumbling to herself.

  “Ellie?” Blake interrupted what looked to be her pep talk. “Your turn, doll.”

  She sucked in a breath then blew it out, repeating this action over and over, reminding me of a pregnant lady in labor. Then she surged from her spot, snatched the mic awkwardly from the machine, almost knocking it over, and stood in front of the crowd … frozen.

  I tapped Sterling’s leg and tilted my head in her direction. She had forgotten to choose a song and start the music.

  I slid out, letting Sterling by so he could help her.

  “Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding started playing, yet Elodie wasn’t singing. Or, I should say, her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. She looked like one of those blinky-eyed china dolls—eyes and lips moving, but no one was home.

  Meanwhile, the crowd was losing interest and had gone back to their food and conversations.

  Without a thought, I grabbed the second mic, glanced at the screen, and started singing. I moved in close to Elodie and started bumping the side of my good hip softly against the side of hers and bobbing my head. Elodie’s eyes got even wider at my antics, so I upped my game. I progressively got louder, sillier, and eventually, maybe even miraculously, she loosened up enough to sing loud enough so everyone else could hear.

  I knew we couldn’t let her sit after this one—she didn’t need time to build her fears back up—so I motioned to Blake to come up and sing with us for another song. We trapped her up there with us as Sterling selected another song, which happened to be a fun one—Meghan Trainor’s “All About that Bass.” I didn’t even need to see the screen for the words.

  The diner began to fill with more patrons, and Sally came from somewhere in the back to watch our performance. By the end of the song, Elodie had relaxed enough to not only sing, but bust some moves. I was giggling so hard I bent double. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed so hard. The rest of the diner guests were having a good time right along with us.

  I was wiping a tear from under my eye and going to sit down when Sterling halted my movement. He stared down into my face, his eyes full of warmth and amusement, and said, “I love watching you laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you giggle so hard.”

  “I don’t think I ever have,” I replied with a watery chuckle. My sides hurt, and my belly felt hollow from the hilarity.

  “Kiss for luck?” he requested, using my favorite sexy smirk.

  I lifted onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, then pulled back and whispered, “Good luck,” against them.

  Sterling, ever the gentleman, escorted me to my seat before he went up and set his music up.

  When it was his turn, Sterling chose “Sugar” by Maroon 5, which made me giggle … again. How fitting?

  As always, his voice was impressive. His range was amazing. He could not only hit John Travolta’s pitch on “Summer Nights,” but he was Adam Levine worthy. I noticed, especially with the women, that his voice ensnared them all. It was like he was born to perform.

  After he was done, we sent Elodie up to perform on her own. I instantly recognized the song she had picked and thought it was perfect for her. I looked at Blake and noticed that he, too, looked pleased.

  The shy wallflower from before was gone. Elodie rocked Sara Bareilles’ “Brave” and had everyone in the diner up on their feet, swaying and singing along to her vibrant vocals.

  “Brave” broke the seal because, after that, it became the Elodie show.

  I looked toward the counter and saw Pops still parked on a stool with an empty plate in front of him, looking very pleased with himself. I made a note that the rest of us should probably eat before we left.

  After two more songs, which Elodie had sung solo, I gave Sterling the high sign. He switched the CDs out and set her up for “Frankie, My Love.”

  It was like
a different girl was singing it. Elodie had diva flair and was pouring it out into the audience that had filled out to a Sunday night dinner crowd.

  I swayed against Sterling as I listened, every so often glancing up at his face to find him watching me with a small smile on his lips. When the last notes of her final song played, she finished to the sound of thunderous applause with a big smile on her face. Pops was a genius.

  After Sterling packed up the machine and we were all seated at a booth, Sally came over with another waitress and delivered a round of milkshakes and burger baskets “on the house.” We all thanked her and ate some of the best food in the county. I didn’t know if they were the best because I hadn’t had a hamburger in several years or if they were just that delicious.

  When we were on our way home, darkness had already fallen, so everyone in the cab was bathed in the neon glow of the dash. We had rearranged to where Elodie sat in front, Blake sat in the seat behind her, asleep against the window, and I sat in the middle, with Sterling behind Pops.

  I was leaning against Sterling, snuggled under his arm that was draped over my shoulders, half-asleep, when I heard Elodie say quietly, “Thanks, Pops.”

  “No problem, darlin’ girl,” he replied.

  “I think that was one of the best nights of my life,” she whispered.

  “The magic of karaoke,” he stated matter-of-factly like that was all there was to it.

  “Yeah.”

  If they said anything else, I didn’t know, because I was soon fast asleep, curled into my new boyfriend.

  When Pops pulled up my driveway, Sterling having just woken me up, the house was dark except for the front outside lights. Sterling walked me to the door and unlocked it for me before giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek. Mom had already gone to bed; the note tacked to the fridge confirming that.

  Gone to bed. Hope you had fun!

  Love you and sweet dreams!

  Mom

  It was nice not being interrogated by my father upon coming home after dark. I was afraid to hope that this would be my new normal and that he would just stay gone.

  My phone went off in my pocket, and I pulled it out, seeing a Snapchat notification from Sterling. I quickly opened the app, pressed the small red square, and loaded the snap.

  It was a picture of Blake asleep in the car. I chuckled at how peaceful he looked in sleep. He was such a bundle of energy that it was strange seeing him not in motion.

  Another photo followed, one of Elodie asleep, as well. At the bottom, the text read, “True friends are a reason to stay.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. That was what I had now—true friends. Sterling had given me that. The realization floored me.

  The tears fell and flowed down my cheeks in rivulets. How could I ever repay him for this?

  I couldn’t.

  I fell asleep with that thought tormenting me.

  Monday morning was … interesting. I didn’t know whether people were staring at me because I had emerged from the passenger side of Sterling Chapman’s nineteen-seventy Chevrolet Chevelle—I knew what it was because he had told me—if it was that he had his arm around me, or if it was the hair. I would say it was a combination of all three. Either way, I felt like I should have had one of those musical intros like they did in the movies. The staircase scene in She’s All That, or maybe the parking lot one from Twilight. However, with everyone’s eyes on me and all the whispers, it felt more like the Emma Stone scarlet-letter-black-bustier hallway scene from Easy A.

  On the way to my locker, I noticed Miles’ face turn red when he saw me, but he didn’t approach. Just stared, stony-faced, at us from his locker before one girl or another—because there were several gathered at his locker—gained his attention.

  Laura just looked shocked when she passed me in the hall, eyes wide and mouth open. Then she gave me a knowing look before patting her own blonde tresses and whispering furiously with Sarah and Ariel. Whatever. I didn’t like that her eyes lingered on Sterling a little too long and with too much interest.

  I would know the meaning of her hair patting and whispering later when Sarah flicked a square of paper on my desk in English that read, “Fake AF Laura wannabe.”

  I guessed that answered my question about what happened in the parking lot. I wondered what Raven had done to get on Laura’s bad side.

  I crumpled the note and, when Mrs. Jones’ back was turned, pelted her in the head.

  She gasped and swore, gaining Mrs. Jones’ attention.

  “Miss Burns, we don’t speak like that in my classroom. Detention.”

  I didn’t think I had ever seen Sarah’s face turn so red, not even when she had been caught naked on the football field that one time with Jesse Spear.

  She fumed the rest of the period before practically running from the room when the bell rang.

  I had managed the day without crutches. I still moved slow, but I believed the KT tape was actually working. I had PT tomorrow, so I guessed I would find out then.

  When the bell rang for last period, I met Sterling outside my classroom door, like every period before, and he walked me to the cafetorium for theater.

  We took our seats on the steps and waited for Mrs. Cook to appear. One thing I thought was funny was Mrs. Cook wouldn’t need a costume for her role as Miss Lynch. Her plethora of vintage-inspired skirts and dresses were performance ready. Exhibit A was swish-swishing around the corner from the speech room. Mrs. Cook emerged in a light blue housedress ensemble with a cream sweater draped over her shoulders.

  Anticipation hummed through me because Elodie would get hers back today. It was deadline time.

  I searched the room for her and Blake, but they weren’t there, and the late bell would ring any minute. I turned to Sterling to ask where our friends were when a door slammed from the left.

  Everyone’s heads swiveled toward the sound, and a moment later, a panting Blake and Elodie jogged around the stage. The crowd broke out in whispers when they noticed what Elodie was wearing.

  “Wha …?” Mrs. Cook, who evidently had no clue what was going on, started right as the bell sounded and Blake and Elodie practically did a baseball slide to the steps in front of us.

  I leaned forward and whispered, “Where did you come from?”

  Blake leaned back, propped one arm on my knee, and whispered back, “The little girls’ room.”

  “You’re a little boy, though.”

  He rolled his eyes and made a rude noise as he sat back up.

  Mrs. Cook’s hawk gaze gave us a reprimanding look before she cleared her throat and commanded, “All right, thespians, today we’re going to hear ‘Franky, My Love’ … again.” She gave Elodie a meaningful look, then remarked, “Love your ensemble, Miss Thomas.”

  Elodie had changed into a tight, Kelly-green sweater tucked into a black, knee-length bell skirt with a black, shiny, patent leather belt. She also had on a pair of black and white lace-up Oxfords. She looked amazing.

  I peeked at Sterling from the corner of my eye. He must have felt my stare because he caught my eye from the corner of his. I bit my lip to contain my giggle. He looked as if he was restraining his hilarity, as well. This was going to be good. I just knew it.

  “After that, we’ll start working through the play from the beginning. I hope you’ve been memorizing your lines. Oh, and after-school practices start today, so I hope you’ve made arrangements for that.” When no one made any comment to the contrary, she gave a nod and declared, “Right. Now, let’s get on with it.”

  We all got up and moved to the tables, except for Elodie, Raven, Lana, and Janet. They took their marks on stage.

  Raven must have gotten over whatever sickness she’d had over the weekend because her snotty attitude was back. The superior look on her face and the derisive looks and rolled eyes exchanged between her, Janet, and Lana were like a bad rerun.

  “Waste of time,” Raven whispered loud enough to the other girls to be heard where we were sitting. Then they all cackled, w
hich set my teeth on edge.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were watching Macbeth with those witches,” Blake muttered from beside me.

  I swallowed a laugh. I hadn’t seen Macbeth, but those girls were definitely witches.

  I examined Elodie to see if their attitudes were rattling her newfound confidence, but her face was set and determined.

  It was funny how theater wasn’t much different than sports. These antics weren’t any dissimilar than the intimidation tactics that took place on the starting line. It was just as much of a competition on stage as it was on the track, field, or court. At the same time, it was a team effort. If one player wasn’t performing well, it could bring the whole team or, well, cast down.

  When the music started, Elodie came alive. Her voice was soulful and rich, her movements graceful. Not the stiff, awkward girl who had let Raven and her friends upstage her. She engaged everyone in the audience, and when Raven “accidentally” knocked into her, she played it off. When that had happened, though, I had reached over and gripped Sterling’s thigh to keep myself from marching up there and “accidentally” knocking Raven out.

  When the song ended, everyone jumped to their feet, clapping. Blake ran up to the stage like he had just scored the winning goal in a soccer game and picked Elodie up, swinging her around. Raven, Lana, and Janet looked like they had sucked on lemons as they watched the scene, before stomping down the steps, not saying a word to Elodie.

  I glared as they passed us, and they glared back until their eyes caught on Sterling behind me. Raven’s expression turned calculating then morphed into flirtatiousness.

  She lifted a hand as if she was going to touch him, and I clipped, “If you want to keep those fingers, I suggest you keep them to yourself.”

  “Sweetheart, these fingers have already been all over that. Isn’t that right, Sterling? Remember all the good places they’ve been,” she purred.