by Everly James
No fraternizing, came Velia’s voice echoing through Ellie’s head.
“Right, so. Thanks,” Ellie said awkwardly. “We’re going to pile the carrots up on the boards here, then carry them over to the washing station. Then onto clean boards underneath the hoop house just over there.”
“I’m glad that I have someone like you to guide me so well. I’d be totally lost,” Melody said, getting down to work.
“Did you grow up gardening?” Ellie asked, her voice an octave higher than it normally was out of pure nerves.
“I grew up among gardens and gardeners,” Melody said cryptically. “How about you?”
“I gardened with my grandmother,” Ellie said. “And my twin brother. He was more interested in making mud pies, though. It was mostly just me and my grandmother for hours under the sun. I loved it.”
“She sounds like a cool lady,” Melody said.
“She’s a spitfire,” Ellie replied. “Can curse someone six ways to the weekend if they look at her wrong.”
Melody laughed, and Ellie felt her stomach doing backflips again. It was a magical, musical sound that filled her with joy.
Ellie reached over to grab a carrot and their arms brushed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Melody said. “A little contact never hurt anybody.” They made eye contact and Melody’s eyes were glinting mischievously.
“So, what brings you here?” Ellie said, clearing her throat.
“Just wanted to do something a little different,” Melody said. “My life at home is a little rule-bound and buttoned up. I thought a commune would be a nice change of pace.”
Ellie laughed. “Don’t be too sure about how loose this place is. Did you get a chance to look at the manual and all of the rules?”
Just as Melody opened her mouth to answer, they were interrupted.
“Hello,” said a man with a British accent. “I was told to come up here and find a Ms. Ellie Mayhew?”
Ellie stood up and pulled off one of her gloves. “That’s me.” She offered her hand.
The tall, skinny, pale man had a receding hairline and weak features. But there was a joy around his eyes that made Ellie feel comfortable. He took her hand, kissed it, and bowed. “Herschel, at your service.”
“Wow, what a reception,” Ellie said. She waited for Melody to introduce herself, but she didn’t move. Ellie took it upon herself to introduce the two of them. “This is Melody.”
“We know each other,” Melody said, shrugging.
“How did you two meet?”
Herschel opened his mouth to speak but Melody interrupted him. “We’re old friends.”
Ellie looked confused. They were both wearing expensive-looking outfits; Herschel looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in decades. “You two came here together? Are you…you know. A couple?”
Melody burst out laughing and Herschel looked like he might pass out. “No, no. Just friends,” Melody explained.
Ellie wasn’t buying it. “How in the world did you two meet?”
“Bowling league.”
“Dance class.”
They answered at the same time.
Ellie shook her head. “Right. Okay, well, we’ve got a lot of these carrots to pull up. Herschel, Melody can help you out.”
Herschel looked skeptical. “Are there gloves I could use somewhere?”
“Afraid of ruining your manicure?” Ellie asked.
Herschel tried to laugh. “I just…I don’t much enjoy dirt.”
“It’s not dirt, it’s soil,” Melody said irritably. “You’re going to have to get used to it to work here.”
Ellie pointed over to a table near the hoop houses. “There are some gloves over there. But you’ll probably want to buy your own eventually. You’ll wear them as faithfully as your favorite pair of blue jeans.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ellie, Herschel, and Melody worked hard for the rest of the day. Ellie was pleasantly surprised to see that Herschel nearly had a pleasant look on his face by the end of the day. He’d spent most of the day with his nose turned up at what they were doing.
At dinner, they were the last ones to show up and had to stand in the corner with their bowls full of vegan chili.
“So, Herschel, what made you join the Block?”
Herschel shot a sideways glance at Melody as if hoping the answer would fly out of her head and into his own. “Just a change of scenery.”
“Where are you from?”
“Mad—”
“Madrid. Spain,” Melody finished for him. “He’s…Spanish.”
“But I spent most of my youth in England, as you can tell by the accent.”
“Ah, mucho gusto,” Ellie said.
“Yes,” Herschel replied uneasily, clearly having no idea what Ellie just said. He looked hastily around the room. “Oh, look! They’re serving the peach cobbler. Shall I get some for all of us?”
“That would be great,” Melody said.
“None for me. I’m watching my figure,” Ellie said sheepishly.
Melody’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. “Really? You shouldn’t. You’re perfect.”
Ellie blushed to the tips of her toes. “Alright, one for me, too, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly,” Herschel replied.
“He’s awfully polite,” Ellie said. “Like, almost too polite. Have you known him a long time?”
“My whole life,” Melody replied. She looked eager for a subject change. “So, does this place ever have parties?”
Ellie laughed. “I’ve only been here a week, but no parties outside of general dining yet.”
“Shame,” Melody said. “This seems like the perfect party house. Lots of rooms to go in and out of, great acoustics. I’ll mention it to Jason. Maybe he’ll be up for it.”
“Doubtful,” said Constance, walking up to them. “Hey, I’m Constance.”
“Melody.” They shook hands.
“Constance is across the hallway from us,” Ellie said.
“Oh, so you’ll be Herschel’s new roommate,” Melody replied. “Awesome. We’ll all be thick as thieves before the semester is over, I can just tell.”
“You look familiar,” Constance said, squinting her eyes at Melody.
“I get that a lot,” Melody said. There was an air to her response that intrigued Ellie; almost like she was hiding something. She even turned her head away from Constance. But the moment passed.
“Oh, dear, we are now four,” Herschel said, returning with three peach cobblers. He passed his to Constance. “You can have mine.”
“Oh, that’s alright.”
“I insist.”
“You going to bow again?” Ellie asked wryly. Melody laughed.
“I’m Constance.”
“Herschel, pleased to be at your service.” He started to bow but saw the look on Ellie’s face and thought better of it.
They ate their cobbler, chatting in between bites. Soon, the kitchen was emptying of people and the group decided to separate.
“I’m on breakfast duty tomorrow,” Constance said, yawning and stretching. “I’m headed upstairs.”
“I will be up shortly and will not disturb your sleep. I simply need a word with Miss—with, ahem, Melody.”
Constance’s gaze was incisive, but she didn’t ask any more questions.
“I’m still on dish duty. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Ellie took everyone’s bowls and headed over to the sink.
Herschel led Melody into the foyer, tripping over a pair of muddy boots. “I swear to—” Herschel bit his fist to keep from cursing and took a deep breath. “I shall not curse in front of you.”
Melody laughed. “Okay. We’ll see how long that lasts if you’re up to your elbows in compost every day for the next four months. What is it you want to talk to me about?”
“Your mother—”
A group of people pushed past them up the stairs, talking loudly about some baseball game.
Herschel sighed and pinched the b
ridge of his nose with his fingertips, something Melody had only seen him do on a few occasions, usually when she was asking him something he knew he couldn’t say yes to. “Your mother has called me and I cannot keep up the charade of being in Paris anymore. She has called me no less than five times today.”
Melody looked at him, brooding. “What did you say to her?”
“The truth. That we are staying at a cooperative farming initiative in New York City.”
“And? What did she say?”
“She told me to stop watching daytime soap operas and to tell her what was actually going on.”
“So she didn’t believe you.”
“Correct. But I pushed and pushed and insisted and there was a lot of silence.”
“Oh God.”
“Yes, indeed.” Herschel pinched his nose again. “She says you are to drop these shenanigans at once and come back home where you belong.”
Melody patted him on the arm. “I’m not going to do that.”
Herschel sighed. “Yes, I thought as much.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
That night, Melody made it back to the room first and began unpacking. She kept herself amused imagining Herschel navigating around and changing in the communal bathroom. Then she turned on some music to occupy herself. She found a Motown playlist and cranked it up. She was halfway finished unpacking, folding a t-shirt and singing “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” when Ellie arrived, soap bubbles floating in her hair.
“You’ve got a lovely singing voice,” Ellie said.
Melody shrieked and dropped the t-shirt on the worn wood floors. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting you.”
“I am your roommate,” Ellie said. She peeled her t-shirt, soaked with water around the stomach, off her head.
Melody paused, staring at her perfect, round breasts and little tummy rolls, before turning around.
“Sorry, I’m used to changing in front of people,” Ellie said. “I had a ton of roommates all through college. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No,” Melody squeaked. She cleared her throat. “No. Not at all. Go right ahead and…and get naked if you want.”
Ellie laughed, and the sound was like music to Melody’s ears. “I won’t be naked. I’m going to put my bathrobe on before I shower. Do you like the room okay?” Ellie saw that Melody had what looked like a brand-new comforter with white pin tucks all over it. Her sheets were white with tiny pinpoints of black splattered across it. She’d hung up black and white photos of Motown singers. Ellie recognized some of them. “My side is a little shabby compared to yours.”
Melody turned around. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve got like a whole black and white theme going. I just have my shabby blanket. Not that it’s shabby shabby. But. It’s not something you’d get at Bergdorf’s, is it?” Ellie was suddenly feeling protective and defensive of her old blanket, which was ridiculous since she was the one criticizing it.
Melody glanced at her bed. “Can I touch it?”
“Of course,” Ellie said, a little taken aback by the question.
Melody ran her hands over the top of the quilt. “I like this. It has stories.” She glanced at her bed. “Mine doesn’t.”
“Sure, it does!” Ellie said. “Look at these posters! Who in this house has Martha and the Vandellas on their wall other than you?”
Melody grinned. “You like Motown?”
“I love Motown. My dad blasted it when I was growing up.”
Ellie grabbed her shower caddy and her towel. “I’ll be back in a bit. Oh, and just so you know for later, the best water pressure is in the last stall in the bathroom.”
Melody smiled. “Good to know.”
Ellie left the room and Melody waited until she was certain she was far down the hallway before collapsing dramatically on her perfectly made bed, grinning widely.
She was falling for Ellie Mayhew, one second at a time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“You’ve got quite a collection of Converse,” Ellie said, amused. She was sitting on her bed during the afternoon break the next day. Sunlight and fresh, early autumn air was pouring through the tiny, stained glass window in their room.
Melody was arranging her shoes in rainbow color order, letting the toes peek out from under the bed. She grinned. “I have even more back home. About a hundred of them.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a small, puffy rectangle. She stood up and ran it under water at the sink, went back to her shoes, and started polishing the white rubber toes of an already pristine pair of shoes.
Ellie was embarrassed when she looked at her own white Converse, which had turned another shade of beige after all day up on the rooftop farming. “What’s that you’re using?”
“Magic Eraser,” Melody said. “Works like a charm. See?” She held up her purple Converse; one dirty, one clean. The difference was astounding. “I usually have one of my friends send them overseas for me. They don’t sell them where I live.”
“And where is it you’re from?” Ellie asked. She was opening up to Melody. She never did this, but there was something about her that made it easy for Ellie to talk.
Melody paused. She swatted an invisible bug away from her face. “It’s this small country no one’s ever heard of.”
Ellie nodded. “I was terrible at geography in school.”
“My least favorite subject,” Melody said. “At my boarding school.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Boarding school?”
Melody froze. She hadn’t meant to say that. Well, the secret was out now. “Yeah. In France.”
Ellie beamed. “You live such a glamorous life.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me,” Melody said. She finished polishing her shoes. “You want me to do yours?”
Ellie blushed. “Oh no, you don’t have to. I mean, they’re already in such terrible shape, I’m not sure what cleaning the rubber is going to do.”
“Trust me, I love doing it. I never get to clean at home. It’s what I want to do when I’m stressed but there’s nothing to touch when the maids get done with the cas—I mean, the house.” Melody barely caught herself in time.
Thankfully, someone knocked at the door.
“Come in!” Ellie called from her bed.
It was Constance. “New schedules for chores,” she said, handing Melody and Ellie two sheets of paper. “I’ve got bathrooms this week.”
“Ugh,” Ellie said. “Looks like I have vacuuming duties.”
“Dusting,” Melody said. “Awesome. I love dusting.”
Constance raised one eyebrow.
Ellie laughed. “She loves cleaning apparently.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
Melody finished rubbing the Magic Eraser across the rubber of Ellie’s shoes. “Ta-da! Just like new. Well, almost. You should probably bleach the laces and throw the shoes in the washing machine to clean the canvas.”
Constance furrowed her brows. “Are you some sort of Converse representative?”
“I just like shoes,” Melody explained. “What chore does Herschel have?”
“Dishes,” he said from the hallway. He didn’t step inside the room at all, standing just outside the doorway looking proper. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, we should probably get a move on upstairs. There’s harvesting to do.”
Constance walked out of the room and Ellie followed.
“Look at you, getting into things,” Melody whispered with a grin as she brushed past Herschel. “I’d almost think you like being here.”
“Do not count on it, ma’am,” Herschel replied. “I’m only here because you are.”
“Admit it, you’re enjoying the change of scenery and pace. I think I even saw you slouch a little earlier.” Melody let this sink in and enjoyed the moment of panic across Herschel’s face.
She loved messing with him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Are you surviving on potatoes and kale?” Dylan ask
ed through the phone.
Melody was up on the rooftop overlooking the city lights. There was a chilly, early October breeze blowing across her skin and through her hair. She had brought up a pashmina she’d originally packed for Paris. The soft fabric felt wonderful against her skin.
“I’m settling in nicely,” she said.
“Oooh, someone’s got a girlfriend!” Marcy’s voice echoed through the phone and across the rooftop.
“Or boyfriend,” Dylan reminded her.
“Would you two stop it? I have no girlfriend. Or boyfriend. I have no one.”
“But you said ‘girlfriend’ first so I’m going with girlfriend,” Marcy replied. Melody heard the sound of a hair dryer being turned on.
“She’s getting ready to go out again tonight,” Dylan replied. He shut the bathroom door behind him and walked into the quiet living room. “So, who is she?”
Melody bit her lip to keep a smile from breaking out across her face. She knew that Dylan couldn’t see her, but she knew the sound of a smile would translate to her voice. “She’s…nobody. It’s nothing.”
“Is she gay?”
“I don’t know,” Melody said truthfully. “The way she looks at me sometimes…I don’t know. I just don’t know. It hasn’t exactly come up in conversation you know?” She paused. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not allowed to fraternize.”
“Mm,” Dylan replied.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re the princess who routinely climbed down a garden trellis from three stories up to sneak out and go to parties. You aren’t exactly a rule follower.”
Melody pulled herself up onto the brick ledge, letting her feet dangle above the street five stories below. “Maybe this place is changing me a little bit. There are so many rules. It’s almost like being back home but different somehow.”
“Except there’s a hot girl a few bedrooms over to keep you entertained.”