Mel turns to me and mouths the word sorry, and I shake my head, because for one, I’m damn proud of her.
I clear my throat. “I have something to say, too.” The crowd hushes to less than a whisper. “I’m sick and tired of this us and them mentality. There’s no difference between anyone from San Ramos and Glen Heights. We all want the same damn things out of life, no matter where we come from. So the bullshit ends now.”
“As if.” Kelly scoffs to her buddies as a circle of hushed laughter runs through the crowd.
“What’s the matter, Kelly? Are you saying that you’d never date anyone from San Ramos?”
“Right. Like I’m going to stoop that low.”
“You did when you dated me.” I watch as her eyes round out in horror. “I used to live in San Ramos, and I don’t see the big fucking deal.”
The air thickens around us. A few faces in the crowd glare at me as if they’ve been duped. Then a few catcalls break out from the San Ramos kids as the crowd roars back to life again.
Mel shakes her head. “Chill out, Kelly. You used to live in San Ramos yourself. Next to Heather, remember?”
“Bite me, Mouse-akowski.” Kelly scowls at both Mel and me. “What happened to you, Joel? You used to be so cool. Have fun with your little flat-chested Madonna wannabe. When you want a real woman, you’ll know where to find her.” Kelly tries to flee the scene, as she and her two friends attempt to peck their way out of this student body nightmare. Kelly pivots and stalks off so fast her purse catches on the wheel of Russell’s skateboard, and she falls face-first with Michelle and Stacey piling on top of her like a classic episode of The Three Stooges. A loud snap echoes through the air as Kelly lets out a horrific scream.
“My leg!”
A mob of administrators rushes to the scene. The crowd backs away, giving them enough room to extricate Kelly from the bottom of the pileup. In less than five minutes, the howl of an ambulance peels our way.
“God”—Mel leans in hard—“I hope she didn’t break it.”
Frankie shakes his head. “Dude, she’s going to want you to chauffeur her around—walk her to all her classes. She’ll pull one serious guilt trip if you don’t.”
“Not going to happen.” I secure my arm around Melissa’s waist. “Kelly has enough friends to take care of her. She doesn’t need anything from me.” The bell rings, and I land a kiss on top of Mel’s head. “Besides, I’ve got someone else I’d rather walk to class.”
“You always know the right thing to say.” She slips her hand up my shirt and scratches my stomach.
“It’s easy when I’m with you.”
Mel pauses a moment as Kelly continues to howl up a storm, forcing Principal Harper out of his pen.
“I hope she’s okay,” Mel whispers. “I really hope for her sake that it’s not broken. It hurts like hell.”
“After what she did to you?” I know Melissa means it. She’s just that kind of a person. “Most girls would be cheering. You’re the nicest girl on the planet.”
Jennifer runs up and snatches Mel by the arm. “Kelly Masterson just pissed herself!”
“Karma.” Their punk friend Heather nods toward the carnage.
“That I agree with.” Completely.
Mel twists her lips into one of those sexy frowns I’ve grown to love. “And what about my broken leg? Was that karma, too?”
“That was a horrible accident.”
“Mmm? Maybe a happy accident.”
Mel and I share a kiss, right there at Glen, in front of the San Ramos and Glen Heights kids alike. It’s a kiss for the ages—one that wipes everything anew until we’re both staring out at a streak-free future.
Kelly screams bloody murder as the paramedics arrive. Soon enough, there’s an entire medical mob around her, and Principal Harper shoos the lingering gawkers off to class—especially Mel and me since a majority of Kelly’s expletives are being hurled in our direction. I hear her all the way in the chemistry lab as they’re carting her away.
“This is all that asshole’s fault! Him and that stupid little bitch! I’m going to sue them, and then I’m going to sue this stupid school!” Her voice drills through the walls like a jackhammer. “I hope you all rot in hell!”
Kelly’s entire life is about discord, about pointing the finger, about getting even, getting what she wants. I’m glad I’m no longer any part of that nightmare. I hope she’s fine in the end, but, no matter what, she’d best leave Melissa and me alone.
Mel and I are happening.
A goofy grin spreads across my face.
Mel always has the power to make me smile.
* * *
A Sunday night in late December sends icy winds stabbing through our clothes as the windows are lined with frost. It solidifies the fact that fall has morphed into winter as the seasons change hands once again. I’ve had a lot of change these last few months—first, with thinking the worst of my father, then, accidentally breaking Melissa’s leg, breaking it off with Kelly, playing my last season of high school football, and finally, getting together with the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the girl I love, the one I’m looking at right now.
“I’ll never get over how much easier it is to get down those stairs without crutches,” Mel says as she plops onto the couch.
I asked her what she wanted to do tonight—movies, hit up a couple of parties—her choice, and she chose hanging out in my game room, which is perfect because hanging out in my game room with Mel is one of my favorite things to do. Almost anything is my favorite thing to do as long as we’re together—especially tonight, my birthday. We spent the day with my family, did the cake and dinner thing, but I wanted to let Mel rule the night. After all, there’s no greater gift than Melissa. Speaking of gifts, I still owe her one. I asked if I could hold off on her second birthday gift until my own birthday. After telling her how lame it was to have a birthday the night before Christmas Eve, I thought it’d be fun for us to celebrate together in a small way. It gave me something extra to look forward to.
“I’m glad the stairs are easy for you.” I pull her in close. “Plus, you’ll need both of your legs in working order for what I have planned for us tonight.”
Her lips part. Her eyes grow wide with the dirty implication.
I wince hard at the innuendo. “I didn’t mean it like that. But, hey, if that’s where you want to take this night, that’s totally okay with me. I want that, too—but only if you want that. What I mean is—”
Mel leans over and plants a kiss right over my lips, effectively doing us both a favor by shutting me the hell up in the best way possible. Melissa sighs as my tongue lashes softly over hers. In all truth, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than this right here, my mouth fused with Mel’s, her body pressed to mine.
“I’m glad my legs are in good working order.” She bites down on her lip. “But I still feel bad that Kelly broke hers.” She did. Left one, just like Mel. It’s been Russell who’s driving her to school—helping her to all her classes. He said he felt bad that it was his wheel she caught her purse on. He later confessed he really didn’t mind helping Kelly if I didn’t mind him helping her. Russ can help himself to Kelly in any way he wants. I just hope he makes it out alive. I knew what he was getting at, and I don’t care what he does with her.
“Okay, I’ve been dying to give you the rest of your gift.” I’m quick to take the focus off my ex. “You want to open it?” I run my mouth over the curve of her cheek.
“I must be a lousy kisser if you’d rather watch me play with wrapping paper,” she teases. “But, yes, I’m dying to see what it is. But we’d better be careful. I think it’s illegal to open a birthday gift a whole month and a half after said birthday.”
She’s been after me for weeks to offer up hints, but I told her it was top secret, and Russia would rain down its fury by way of a nuke if I spoke of its awesomeness before its time.
I hand her the long rectangular box, and we sit as she ca
refully peels open the seams. I reach over and rip the paper right down the middle. “Have fun with it, Mel. Pretend like you’re three.”
She gives a wild laugh and tears right through it, sending wrapping paper flying every which way.
“Oh my God!” she screams before pulling me into a quick hug. “My very own radio! And it’s the yellow Sony Sport! I can’t believe this!”
“I thought you should have your own. Let your sister listen to Ozzy while you kill it with The Cure.”
“I still love me some Ozzy.”
“Good thing”—I reach back and pluck a tape off the sofa table—“because I sort of made you another surprise. It’s nothing big, just a few songs you mentioned you liked.”
“Awesome! Ozzy, Dio, Quiet Riot, Mötley Crüe—Billy Idol, Wham, Alison Moyet, Bananarama, Berlin—Wait, there’s totally new wave on here, too.”
“I thought that was a good mix of the two of us together.”
“It’s perfect. It’s sort of who I am anyway.”
“There’s something special on the flipside.”
She turns it over and gasps. “‘Do They Know it’s Christmas?’ Aww! Joel, I love that song! Why is it written twelve different times?”
“Because I know you love it. I bought the 45 for you and spent an afternoon recording it over and over so you won’t have to keep rewinding the tape. Just one song on the B-side on repeat. Hope you like it.”
“I love it. I love it all. Thank you.”
I set up her radio and drop in the cassette. The first song that happens to be on is “Jump” by Van Halen.
“Come here.” I pull her to her feet.
“Are we going to jump?” She hops a little when she says it, and her body bounces in all the right places.
My brows dip as I take her in like this. Mel is beautiful, way too beautiful for me to have gone my entire senior year and not have known. “That’s not what I meant by using your legs, but you’re close.”
“I know. You meant this.” She starts swinging her hips, snapping her fingers above her head, and I’ll admit, she’s pretty damn hot right now.
“Actually, you’re getting much, much closer.” I pull her in until her body seals over mine. “I meant this.” I land a kiss next to her lips, moving our bodies ten times slower than the music demands.
“We’re going to slow dance our way through this?”
“That’s right.”
Her lips twitch with the beginnings of a dirty grin. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”
“I can’t recall, but I like the way it sounds coming from you.”
Her lips press tight a moment as if a thought just stopped her in her tracks.
“What? Are you holding back a laugh?”
“I’m just remembering something about that day last summer. Before you backed into me—I, um, saw you on the field. We were sort of in each other’s way, and you said ‘I don’t know if I should say excuse me—’”
“Or ask you to dance.” I take a quiet breath. “I remember. I also remember thinking, I need to cut Kelly, like yesterday, so I can meet this cute girl.”
Mel takes a breath. Her mouth opens with surprise. “I can’t believe you remember that, and I can’t believe you thought that about me.” Her cheeks flood with color.
“Can I have this dance?” I hold out my hand, and she takes it.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Mel lays her head on my chest, and we sway to the music, no matter how hard the rock, how fast the beat, we keep it smooth with our steady rhythm, the one our bodies are in tune to. My lips find hers, and we hold each other like that, our bodies moving ever so measured while we explore one another’s mouth as if it were the very first time. Melissa has a way of making everything new, everything possible, every moment another breath of fresh air. As traumatic as the circumstances that brought us together were, Melissa has only brought unsurpassed peace to my life. I didn’t know it was possible, but I’m glad it is. And I’m glad it’s with Mel.
She pulls back with that playful look on her face. “I have some news I’ve been dying to tell you. But I totally didn’t want to take the spotlight off your big day—but it’s killing me, and I think this is the perfect time to tell you. It’s something I gave you, but it won’t show up for months.”
“I see how it goes. It’s the perfect time to steal the spotlight from my big day. Way to go, Mel. What is it that you gave me that won’t show up for months? An STD?” I go from teasing to chalk white in less than three seconds. “Oh, shit. Are you knocked up?”
“No! God, no! Wow, this went horribly wrong.” She claps her hands over her mouth.
“I’m still having a heart attack here. Speak.”
“I won the essay contest.” She shrugs. “I heard back from Teen magazine yesterday. They’re putting my essay into their May 1985 issue.”
“That’s great!” I bury my face in her hair a moment. “I’m so happy for you, Mel. That’s the best gift I could have gotten today. I wish you would’ve told me earlier. Don’t worry about stealing any spotlight from me. My spotlight’s always on you.”
“I guess you can say the same is true for me. I dedicated the piece to you.” Her cheeks deepen a severe shade of crimson. “You taught me a lot about the people from Glen Heights. I guess I was pretty guilty of painting all of you with one brush, the way I pretty much always accused you of doing to the San Ramos kids. Thank you for changing my perspective.”
“Thank you for changing mine.”
She extricates an envelope from her pocket and waves it between us. “Your real gift.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” I give a crooked grin as I peel it open and pull out the contents—two tickets—Avalon Attractions Brings You IRON MAIDEN Long Beach Arena, March 15, 1985. “What!” I jump back. “Thank you.” I pull her in and bury a kiss in her hair. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to. It’s for their World Slavery tour. And, selfishly, I’m sort of hoping you’ll take me.”
“Hell yes, I’m taking you.” I swing her in a circle. Mel is the perfect gift.
She takes a gentle bite out of my cheek. “Twisted Sister is opening for them.”
“Shit! This just got better!”
“I know. It’s totally awesome! But you have to promise to protect me when Eddie comes out. I’m totally horrified by Maiden’s mascot.”
“You got it.” I take a playful bite out of her ear. “I love protecting you—and I love you.”
“I love you, too, Joel Effing Miller.”
“I like the sound of that.” Our lips meet again, and this time we’re hanging on for the ride.
Sometimes in life, you find exactly what you’re looking for when you least expect it, and I think Mel and I are living proof of that.
We’re proof of every good thing.
Epilogue
Don’t You (Forget About Me)
Melissa
June
Senior prom is a rite of passage, an iconic moment that, much like the music we listen to, will forever stand out as a bookmark in our lives. There are some occasions—formal as it were—that you simply don’t forget, and this celebrated teen event is one of them.
“Wow.” Joel rides his eyes up and down my body, his face frozen in serious inspection mode. “Just, wow.”
“You clean up nice yourself.” I strut over in the pumps I had dyed to match my dress—a peach lace strapless that puffs out around my hips, topped with a string of tiny white bows that dot their way down my back, highlighting my curves in all the right places. I couldn’t afford any of the Jessica McClintock Gunne Sax’s gowns, which I’m sure will be there in abundance tonight, but I’m pretty happy with my Contempo find, and judging by the way Joel’s eyes are popping out of his head, so is he.
He slips the corsage over my wrist, never taking his eyes off me. I pull the simple pink carnation to my nose and inhale its earthy scent. It’s perfect. Everything about this night is going to be perfec
t because I’ll have Joel by my side.
Joel lands a chaste kiss over my cheek and takes a step back so his parents can take a look. His mom and dad drove over to my house to take pictures with my mom and dad, and now it’s one Kodak moment after another exploding in our faces.
Joel, however, did not show up with his parents. Instead, he pulled up in a shiny white stretch limo that he, Frankie, and Russell went in on.
We enjoy the snap-fest while Joel and I pose for the cameras. It feels special, and for the first time I’m actually glad our parents are documenting every moment of this.
I give Ben and Laurie a quick hug goodbye as we wave to the parental paparazzi.
We hop into the limo and pick up everyone. Jennifer is Frankie’s date. It’s a new thing between them, and they both claim they’re just messing around, but I’ve seen the way he looks at her, the same way Joel looks at me. And to hear Jennifer talk about Frankie, you’d think the sun rose and set in his jock strap. Russell is dating Stacey, which is better than making me suffer through a limo ride with Kelly, I suppose. Oddly, even though Stacey was using me from the beginning to keep tabs on Joel, she’s been pretty friendly, or as friendly as she can be after Joel and I started officially going around.
Prom is held at the ritzy Davenport Hotel overlooking the water—nothing but the best for Glen Heights graduating class of 1985. The venue is opulent and showy in every good way, the ceiling lined with dozens of oversized crystal chandeliers that assure you this place drips with money. The entire back wall opens up to the deep blue of the Pacific. And there’s actually a DJ who knows his way around a record player.
A few school administrators hover around the entry to the grand ballroom—Mrs. McCarthy in a sleek red dress, and next to her looking dapper in a suit is Mr. Sardona himself.
“A published young author is in our midst.” He greets us while looking right at me.
“I’m hardly an author.” My entire body sizzles with embarrassment. “It was one article in Teen magazine.”