Fabulous Five 015 - Melanie's Identity Crisis

by Betsy Haynes

  "Melanie! Guess what?" Funny chirped. "I talked to my parents last night just the way you said I should, and do you know what they told me?"

  Melanie pulled herself out of the fog she was in and looked at her smiling friend.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "What did they say?"

  "They said I really am a Hawthorne because all the traditions and attitudes that have been passed down through the generations have shaped our family and helped make me the kind of person I am. That's kind of complicated, but I think I understand. It means that the things they've taught me ever since I was a baby came partly from our ancestors."

  Funny paused to catch her breath, and Melanie tried to answer, but the words stuck in her throat.

  "And that's not all," gushed Funny. "They said I'm extraspecial because I'm adopted. They wanted a baby so badly and then they picked me out, and that makes me a chosen child. Isn't that super? And all the time I thought I was a nobody."

  Melanie gulped hard, stunned by these last words, and stared at Funny as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER 7

  Melanie raced for the girls' bathroom as the bell rang for morning classes to begin. She couldn't face her friends or her teachers or anyone right now. Not until she had sorted things out.

  The bathroom was empty and she hurried to a sink and splashed cold water onto her face. Her nose was red and her eyes watery, and she fished around in her purse for a tissue.

  How could things have turned around so completely? she wondered as she blew her nose loudly. Yesterday she had felt so secure and loved by her own family and had been trying to convince Funny Hawthorne not to think of herself as a nobody because she was adopted. But today everything was different. Everything was wrong. It was Funny who felt secure and loved because her parents had said she was wanted and chosen.

  "But I'm just an accident," she whispered to herself in the mirror. "Nobody wanted me. I just wrecked everything for my parents."

  Melanie slumped against the wall beside the sink and looked at the door. The school was quiet. Classes had started. She would have to stay in the girls' bathroom until her face was no longer red and then go to the office for a tardy slip. What excuse could she give?

  "I've been in the bathroom crying because my parents didn't really want me," she mumbled. "Sure. I can hear it all now," she added sarcastically.

  Melanie thought back over the past few days. Her mother had yelled at her for putting her books on the kitchen table and forgetting to take them up to her room. She was always yelling at Melanie for things like that, but Jeffy got away with everything. And there was the business about keeping her room picked up. Her mother was an absolute broken record about that. But did she ever fuss at Jeffy to pick up his room? Of course not. She did it herself. If that wasn't proof that her mother didn't love her, what was? And what about all those times when she was younger when she had real, honest-to-goodness, genuine stomachaches, but her mother hadn't believed her and made her go to school anyway? Then there was the pet situation. Melanie had begged and pleaded most of her life for a pet, but what had her parents always said? No. It wasn't until they saw Rainbow at the animal shelter and fell in love with the little dog themselves that they gave in. Now that she thought about it, there were at least a million times that her parents had rejected her, but she had been too blind to see it then.

  Melanie chewed her lower lip and thought the situation over. What she really wanted to do was go home. Her mother would be there, taking care of Jeffy before she drove him to his afternoon kindergarten class. Maybe if she watched her mother closely, she would find more proof that she was really just a burden to the family. She had to admit that it was different with Jeffy. Her mother's career had already been wrecked by the time he came along. They had adjusted. Made the best of a bad situation. They were ready for him. But still, it didn't make her feel any better. And it didn't make her want to stay at school and face everyone either.

  "But what if I pretend I'm sick?" she whispered. She liked that idea. All she would have to do was convince the school nurse. So what if her mother never believed her? She would have to believe a real nurse. Glancing into the mirror, she pinched her nose to bring the redness back and then slipped into the hall.

  The nurse's office was just around the corner, and Melanie was glad to see that no other students were there. She would never be able to lie to the nurse if she had an audience, especially if that audience was anyone she knew.

  The nurse, Miss Byars, looked up from her paperwork when Melanie walked in. "Good morning. What can I do for you?"

  Melanie took a deep breath. "I'm not feeling well," she said in a small voice. "My stomach hurts, and I think I might throw up."

  "Oh, dear," said Miss Byars. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and looked at Melanie with solemn brown eyes. "You do look a little flushed. Perhaps you'd better sit down."

  Melanie nodded and sank into the chair beside the desk. It felt awful to lie, but right now it seemed like the only thing to do. Besides, Miss Byars hadn't given her the third degree to see if she was lying about the stomachache. Miss Byars had believed her, not like some people she could name.

  "Is someone at home who can come for you?" Miss Byars asked. "I'd be glad to call for you."

  "My mom's there," Melanie said flatly. She gave the nurse her phone number and watched out of the corner of her eye as Miss Byars punched in the numbers. Several seconds passed but nothing happened. "It's ringing," Miss Byars said cheerfully.

  More seconds passed but still nothing happened. Melanie frowned. Where is she? Why doesn't she answer the phone?

  "Maybe I rang the wrong number," the nurse offered. "I'll try again."

  But nobody answered this time either. "She's probably gone out for a few minutes," said Melanie.

  "Would you like to lie down for now, and then I could try again later?" asked the nurse.

  Melanie looked at the small metal cot jutting out from the wall. It was in plain view of anyone who might happen to come into the nurse's office. She would die if she had to lie down there and double die if anyone she knew came in and saw her. "No," she said hurriedly. "I'd just like to go home."

  Miss Byars nodded and then opened a small file box sitting on her desk, thumbed through, and pulled out a card.

  "It says here to contact Mrs. Clare Miller if your mother isn't home."

  "That's our next-door neighbor," said Melanie.

  "Then I'll be glad to phone her for you," said the nurse. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to lie down?"

  Melanie shook her head and watched apprehensively as Miss Byars keyed in Mrs. Miller's number. What if her mother was out for the day, shopping or something? What good would it do to go home if there was no one there to spy on? Maybe she should say that she was feeling better and go back to class. But what was really bothering her was why her mother hadn't answered the phone. It doesn't matter that I'm sick and need to come home, she thought. She and Jeffy are probably out somewhere having a great time. They probably went ice skating at the rink at the mall. Or maybe Mom took Jeffy to story hour at the library.

  "Hello, Mrs. Miller?" she heard Miss Byars say. "This is the school nurse at Wakeman Junior High. I'm calling for Melanie Edwards. She isn't feeling well, but her mother doesn't answer the phone. Oh, she is? That's wonderful. May I speak with her, please?"

  Melanie jumped to attention as Miss Byars gave her a reassuring smile and waited for Mrs. Edwards to come to the phone. So what if she was only at Mrs. Miller's, Melanie thought grumpily. She still wasn't home when I needed her.

  Her mother was at school within fifteen minutes, and even Melanie had to admit that she looked worried. "What's wrong, honey?"

  "My stomach's a little upset. That's all," she murmured.

  "Well, let's take you home," she said, putting an arm around Melanie. Turning to Miss Byars, she said, "I'm sorry I wasn't home when you called. Jeffy and I ran next door to borrow an egg from Mrs. Miller. We stayed longe
r than we meant to because she wanted to show us how she's taught her little dog, Jo-Jo, to roll over and shake hands."

  "Of course, Mrs. Edwards," Miss Byars reassured her. "You couldn't have known that Melanie was going to get sick this morning."

  Mrs. Edwards thanked the nurse again and led Melanie out to the car where Jeffy was waiting. As she trudged toward the car, Melanie realized that she did actually feel a little sick. There was a dull ache in her head and her stomach was starting to gurgle. Maybe I wasn't lying after all, she told herself.

  The smell of brownies hit Melanie as soon as she stepped in the front door of her house. She drifted into the kitchen and put her books down on the kitchen counter. There were the brownies, her mother's specialty, on a platter. Nearby the other bowls and utensils sat where her mother had left them when she went next door to borrow an egg.

  "I wish you'd told me you weren't feeling well before you went out in the cold this morning," said Mrs. Edwards, coming up behind Melanie and feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. "You don't seem to have any fever, but maybe you'd better scoot on up to your room and jump into bed. The rest will do you good. Jeffy and I'll try to be extra quiet in case you want to sleep, won't we, Jeffy?"

  Jeffy nodded and jumped up to his usual place at the counter, grabbing a mixing bowl and cleaning it with his finger, and her mother gave Melanie a sympathetic smile before walking over and tousling his hair.

  Fears filled Melanie's eyes as she watched the two of them. They seemed so happy, so natural together, and she felt suddenly apart from them. It was as if a cold, invisible curtain had been pulled in between them and her. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, turned on her heel, and left the room.

  CHAPTER 8

  Melanie dropped her books on her desk and sat down. Now what was she going to do? Her mother had sent her to her room. Melanie bristled. That way, I won't be able to see what's really going on around here.

  She had just changed into her nightgown when she heard her mother's footsteps coming up the stairs and then a soft knock on her door. Dashing to her bed, she ducked under the covers just as her mother said, "Honey, may I come in?"

  "Okay," answered Melanie in a weak voice.

  Mrs. Edwards came into the room and sat down on the edge of Melanie's bed. "Is there anything I can get for you before Jeffy and I run to the grocery store? Is your stomach still upset? Would you like some Alka-Seltzer?"

  Melanie stared at her mother in astonishment. Here I am sick, she thought, and she's running off to the grocery store.

  When Melanie didn't answer, her mother reached out and touched her forehead again. "Still no fever," she said hopefully. "I think you've just let yourself get too tired. A day's rest will do you good. Now you just snuggle down into the covers and try to sleep while Jeffy and I are gone."

  She glared at the door after her mother left. Any other mother would have stayed home with a sick child, she grumped to herself. But not my mother. She can't stand to be in the same house with me. So what if I'm sick? I could die and she probably wouldn't care.

  Things were crazy. Only yesterday she had been super happy, thinking she had everything and feeling sorry for Funny Hawthorne. But Funny had one thing that she didn't have, and it meant more than anything else. Funny's parents wanted her.

  When she heard her mother's car pull out of the driveway, she got up and hurried to the basement. There was someone there she could talk to, she thought, someone who would listen.

  When she flipped on the light, Rainbow blinked up at her from the box where she was snuggled with her eight puppies. Seeing Melanie, she raised her head and gave Melanie a smile.

  She knelt beside the box stroking first Rainbow and then each of the fat, squirming puppies, remembering how she and her friends had rescued Rainbow and fourteen other dogs and cats from being put to sleep at the animal shelter on Christmas Eve. Rainbow had been Melanie's favorite because of her gentle eyes and her multicolored coat, which was why she had been given her name.

  "Nobody wanted you either, did they, Rainbow?" she whispered.

  Rainbow laid her head in Melanie's hand and whimpered softly.

  "But I did. And I always will."

  Melanie hurried back to her room and lay in bed wrapped in gloom the rest of the morning, pretending to be asleep when her mother knocked softly on the door and called that she was home from shopping. She even kept quiet at lunchtime, hoping her growling stomach wouldn't make so much noise that it would give her away. But each time her mother came to the door and then tiptoed away again, Melanie felt tears welling up. Why didn't she just come on in? Melanie wondered. Why doesn't she check on me or insist I eat lunch? Maybe she just doesn't want to be around me.

  But by afternoon Melanie was feeling restless, and she slipped out of bed and got Cordia's photograph album off her desk. "I wonder what Cordia did when she was feeling ill?" Melanie whispered, glancing around the room and giggling softly. Then she put the album on her bedside table, plumped her pillows, and climbed back into bed, reclining elegantly, the way she imagined Cordia would, and opening the album in her lap.

  She turned again to the picture of her great-great-grandmother, sitting in the swing with John standing behind her. "John certainly is handsome," she murmured. She looked closer. There seemed to be something almost familiar about him. Did his blond hair make him look a little like Scott Daly, or was it wishful thinking? The idea gave her an eerie feeling, and she got up and looked into her mirror. She looked like Cordia, and now Scott looked like one of Cordia's beaus. My best beau, Cordia had written under the picture. And wasn't Scott her best beau, too?

  Melanie piled her shoulder-length hair onto her head, turning to first one side and then the other as she tried to imagine being Cordia Mae Lee almost one hundred years ago. Sucking in her breath, she whispered, "I do look like her. Oh, I wish I could have been her. She was so lucky. Everybody loved her, especially all those gorgeous boys. I wonder what it would be like to have boys writing me letters, begging me to like them or threatening to throw themselves off church steeples if I didn't go riding with them?" She frowned, thinking of Scott and Shane and Garrett and how all three of them were ignoring her. Oh, if only I could be more like Cordia, she thought.

  She plopped onto the bed again and turned to another page in the album only to find Great-great-grandmother Cordia building a snowman with another young man. Her cheeks were glowing as she held her long skirt up out of the snow with one hand and patted the snowman's chest with the other. Her "beau" was standing back, looking at Cordia and the snowman as if he were deciding which one he liked best.

  He's a cool one, thought Melanie. Cool and full of self-confidence, like Shane. The thought startled her so much that she gasped out loud. Underneath the picture Cordia had written: Charles, my mysterious beau. Shane wasn't exactly mysterious, but at least he was different.

  Melanie lay back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling, marveling at how much she and Cordia were alike. Even their boyfriends had a lot in common. "And just think," she whispered, "if it hadn't been for Mrs. Clark's genealogy project, I would never have known."

  Later in the day Jeffy yelled that supper was ready. Melanie got up and brushed her hair. She was just too hungry to stay in her room any longer. Besides, thinking about her genealogy project again had reminded her of her parents, and that had brought back her black mood. She had to find out if anyone even cared that she was sick.

  When she joined the others at the table, Jeffy was telling his parents, in great detail, about a movie he had seen on television that afternoon after school. She stood beside her chair, waiting to see if anyone would notice her.

  "And then Godzilla went crashing through the jungle looking for his baby, Godzooki, who was hiding in a cave," Jeffy was saying. Mrs. Edwards was smiling in the right places as he told the story, and Melanie's father looked up from his plate periodically to show he was listening.

  Melanie couldn't stop the little feeling of resen
tment that was creeping into her stomach. She cleared her throat.

  "Hello, sweetheart," her mother said. "I'm glad you're feeling well enough to eat some supper. I wasn't thinking when I fixed spaghetti. I hope it isn't too spicy for your stomach."

  "Sorry to hear that you're not feeling well," said her father, but before she could answer, Jeffy was talking about his movie again.

  Melanie sighed and picked at her spaghetti, waiting for her turn at conversation again. "I told you that I went to Gran Pennington's yesterday," she said when Jeffy finally paused to take a breath. She looked directly at each of her parents when she spoke, but except for a quick glance from her mother, neither of them showed any outward signs of interest in what she had said.

  Melanie lifted her voice and tried to sound more perky. "But I forgot to mention that she showed me all her old picture albums. Boy, did we have some weird-looking ancestors."

  Jeffy spun a big wad of spaghetti on his fork and tried to jam it, stringers and all, into his mouth.

  "Jeffrey!" her mother scolded him. "Don't eat like a little pig!"

  "There were several pictures of Great-great-grandma Cordia Mae Lee," Melanie continued, trying to find a way to attract their attention to what she was saying. "She was really pretty, and Gran thinks I look like her."

  Mr. Edwards ignored Melanie and pointed a finger commandingly at Jeffy. "Listen to your mother and eat correctly."

  Melanie sank down in her chair and stabbed at her spaghetti and pulled up a large forkful.

  "Melanie!" her mother said in a shocked voice. "What are you doing?"

  "Can't we have any peace at the dinner table?" her father asked angrily. He shoved his chair back, got up, and left the room, leaving the others to stare after him.

  Melanie's chin quivered, and the weight of the fork and spaghetti felt like a thousand tons. She had only been trying to make conversation, and they wouldn't pay any attention to her. She hadn't done anything wrong. A huge lump grew in her throat so she couldn't swallow.