4B. My Name Is Melanie Scott
Genres: Young Adult, Coming of Age, Light Romance
I stay on the floor, fiddling with my schoolbag. One of my art journals is nearly finished, and I need to make sure I put a spare in.
Ring ring.
The phone is just outside in the hallway — but I’m not allowed any phones. Isn’t that right, mum? So, there. Your daughter is doing her duty by staying in her room.
Ring ring.
Ugh, just answer the phone already mum!
“M-e-l-a-n-i-e, answer the phone. Please. I’m in the bathroom.”
Why can’t she make up her mind? Either the phone is off-limits, or it’s not. She can’t pick and choose when it suits her.
“Hello?” I say in my sweetest voice. Not because I’m feeling gracious, but because I’m not, and sometimes you must fake it.
“Hello, who is it?” This time I demand an answer. “Listen, I’m not into mysteries, so if someone doesn’t answer me right now, I’m hanging up. By the way, just so you know, crank calls are lame.”
“Mrs. Scott?”
“I could be. Who’s asking?”
“Mrs. Scott, I’ve found your purse. Sorry to have looked inside, but it was the only way I could see who to contact. In my search for I.D., I found copies of your test results. They don’t look good. I’m a therapist. Call me if you ever want to talk. I’m sending your purse to you by courier.”
Then the phone went dead. The man didn’t leave his name, his number, or any way to reach him. It’s a mistake. Mum’s fine. Right?
Suddenly, my sore foot’s the least of my problems. I don’t know what to do. Should I confront her and demand to know her secret or stay quiet?
What’s best? Mums always know what to do, but this time, asking her is not an option.
I need to talk to someone. Not just anyone — a stranger. Someone who won’t tell mum I’m talking about her. Maybe I should call back this therapist.
Uh-uh.
Therapists talk to parents. I bet he can’t be trusted.
Dear Cameron,
Things have changed.
Sorry to dump on you, but I just got bad news. I think my mom’s got cancer.
She’s the only one I’ve got in this whole world. The only person who cares I’m alive.
She can’t be sick. I need her.
I didn’t see the signs before, but now I see them — her pale skin, the fatigue. She’s a tough nurse who never complains.
She leaves the whining to me.
Now I’m feeling guilty.
Guilty? Hmm, I wonder if this is what mum’s talking about?
Yes, Cameron. Surprise! I feel something. You better believe I feel guilty. That’s a shock!
Got any ideas?
I’m scared.
Melli
“Did you get the phone, Melanie? Who was it?”
“Wrong number.”
“At this hour?”
“Guess so. Mum, can we order a pizza?”
“Guess so. Mum, can we order a pizza?”
“It’s a school night, and we both have an early day. Pizza — this Saturday night — I promise.”
“Why don’t you take tomorrow off, mum. Let’s both ditch our day and spend it together.”
“Your foot? Is the pain that unbearable?”
“My pain is fine, mum. I’m fine. How about you?”
“Guess so. Mum, can we order a pizza?”
“You’re grounded, Melanie. Grounded means no outside pleasures. Otherwise, how are you going to learn?”
“Learn what? That storekeeper was wrong. I didn’t steal the pack of gum. I was going to pay for it.”
“Melanie, would you have told me about it if he didn’t catch you?”
“I don’t know, mum? Sometimes secrets are for keeping — sometimes not. Do you have anything to tell me?”
