Fabulous Five 015 - Melanie's Identity Crisis

by Betsy Haynes

  "May I be excused?" she asked in a tiny voice.

  Her mother's face looked as if she had suddenly gotten very tired as she gave her consent with a limp wave of her hand.

  Back in her room, Melanie flopped across her bed. She had been right. Nobody in her family really cared about her. Jeffy got all the attention by talking about dumb movies he had seen on TV and acting like a cute little boy. The thought hurt her. Jeffy was a cute little boy, and she loved him, and she shouldn't take it out on him just because her parents hadn't wanted her.

  She sighed. It was awful knowing that her parents hadn't wanted her and that she really was a nobody right here in her own home. I wonder what it's like in Funny's family? she thought. They probably listen to everything she has to say. It's no wonder her family gave her the nickname Funny. She's probably the happiest person on earth. And I'll bet that they give her everything she wants and ask her opinion when they're making important decisions.

  The more Melanie thought about the Hawthorne family, the more curious she became, until a very interesting idea began forming in her mind.

  CHAPTER 9

  At the fence on the school ground the next morning, Jana, Katie, Christie, and Beth crowded around Melanie, all asking questions at once.

  "What happened to you yesterday?" asked Christie.

  "Yeah," said Katie. "I saw you before class yesterday morning, and then you disappeared."

  "I called your house after school, but your mom said you couldn't come to the phone because you were sick," said Jana.

  Melanie debated whether or not to tell them the truth, but after all, she decided, they were her best friends.

  "I was faking being sick," she announced. "I found out something awful about myself while I was working on the genealogy project, and I decided to go back home and spy on my mom to see if it was true."

  Beth gasped. "What did you find out?"

  Melanie took a deep breath. It was hard to admit the truth, even to her best friends. "My parents didn't want me to be born," she stated flatly. "My mom had planned a big career as a concert pianist, and I wrecked it."

  "Oh, come on, Mel," Katie said seriously. "You know your parents wanted you."

  "No, they didn't. I read a letter Mom wrote to my grandmother, and in it she said"—Melanie paused dramatically—"I was an accident." She went on to tell them more about the letter and how she had found it in the trunk at her grandmother's house.

  Christie frowned. "So, what did playing sick yesterday prove?"

  "Everything I had started suspecting," insisted Melanie. "The only time my mom ever pays any attention to me is when she's yelling at me. Can you believe that she didn't even stay around the house to take care of me when I came home sick? She and Jeffy left practically as soon as I got there."

  "Gosh, Melanie," said Jana. "I don't think that means she doesn't love you. You said yourself that you were faking being sick. Maybe she could tell. You know how mothers are."

  "She couldn't tell," grumped Melanie. "Besides, by that time I really was feeling sick. And that's not all. Both my parents really ate it up when Jeffy told the plot of an entire long television movie at the dinner table last night, but did they pay attention to me when I had something to say? Of course not. My mom just yelled again about my table manners."

  "Hey, my mom yells at me all the time, too," teased Beth. "And to think that until now I believed she really loved me."

  "I think you're wrong, too," said Katie. "Look at how she doesn't want to work outside the home so that she can be there for you and Jeffy. And don't forget about those scrumptious brownies that she's always forcing us to eat when we're at your house."

  "She bakes those for Jeffy," Melanie said angrily.

  "Jeffy's not a member of The Fabulous Five," Jana reminded her with a grin.

  Melanie shrugged. Her friends just didn't understand. So what if her mother baked brownies? Big deal! That didn't prove she'd really wanted Melanie. Glancing away, Melanie promised herself that she would spend most of the weekend spying and getting evidence that even The Fabulous Five wouldn't be able to argue with.

  Nobody said anything for a few minutes, and Melanie knew that it was her fault. Her bad mood had affected her friends, too, but she couldn't help it. They just didn't realize how awful it was to be unwanted. Probably Scott didn't want her for a girlfriend anymore, either, she thought. Maybe he was tired of her or he had found someone else. Shane was too busy worrying about Igor to care about her now. Imagine! she scoffed silently, an iguana's love life being more important than his own. And Garrett. Well, she mused, after all, he is in eighth grade. How interested could he get in a seventh-grader like me?

  Melanie was still moping around when she got to her locker a little while later. She was trying for the third time to open her stubborn combination lock when Funny came racing up to her.

  "Hi," Funny said, grinning broadly. "Where were you yesterday? I looked all over for you at lunchtime, but everyone said you were absent."

  Melanie breathed a sigh and tried to return Funny's smile, but she couldn't.

  "Oh, I wasn't feeling very well so I went home," she lied.

  "Well, I'm glad you're back today," said Funny. "Especially since today is our Family Living field trip to do gravestone rubbings at the cemetery. I've got to run. See you later."

  Melanie watched Funny speed down the hall, thinking about the field trip. She had forgotten all about it, but maybe it would be the perfect time to talk to Funny about her idea.

  Family Living students from both Mrs. Clark's and Mrs. Blankenship's classes pushed and jammed onto two school buses for the trip to the cemetery that afternoon. Melanie could see Funny ahead of her in the crowd, but by the time she jostled her way onto the bus, Jana and Funny were sitting together. Melanie squeezed into the seat behind them next to Kim Baxter. Neither Funny nor Jana had even so much as said hello to her. Some friends, she thought. Just because I'm in a bad mood doesn't mean that I'm poison.

  Jana was by the window and Funny on the aisle, and across the aisle from Funny was Shane. He hadn't said anything to Melanie either. When the bus started moving, she closed her eyes, trying to fight down the misery that was overtaking her. Suddenly she heard Shane shout above the noisy crowd.

  "Hey, Funny," he called. "You and Jana wouldn't happen to know any female iguanas, would you?"

  Melanie perked up and listened in spite of herself.

  "Sure. There's Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Blankenship and Miss Dickinson and . . . let's see. Who else?" teased Funny. Beside her Jana was laughing like crazy.

  When Melanie realized that she was chuckling, too, she looked quickly away. She didn't want anyone to make her laugh. She had a perfect right to feel miserable.

  She tried not to listen, but she heard Shane say, "Naw. They're not Igor's type. You don't know what a problem it is to find him a girlfriend. He's so particular."

  "Yeah, I know the feeling," said Jana, and Melanie could tell from the tone of her voice that she was only pretending to be sympathetic.

  "Yesterday my dad got this great idea to take him to the zoo," Shane went on. "It sounded like a pretty good idea to me. There must be dozens of iguanas out there, and surely even someone as choosy as Igor could find a girlfriend in that crowd."

  Funny leaned into the aisle. "So, what happened?" she pressed.

  "Absolutely nothing. The reptile keeper agreed to let him into the pen, and Igor walked around for a while and then wanted to go home. He said all the babes were stuck up and spoiled because of easy living at the zoo. Can you believe that? So now we're back to square one."

  All around, kids were laughing at Shane's story, and Melanie sank back in her seat. Listening to him talk about Igor's love problems would ordinarily have made her feel better, but not this time. Not when she was feeling terminally depressed.

  "Okay, everybody," said Mrs. Clark when the buses unloaded just inside the gates of the cemetery a few minutes later and the students from her classes gathered around
her. "I have all the supplies right here to begin making our rubbings, but first, I want everyone to pick a gravestone. If it belongs to someone from your own family, you may use the gold crayons to show that your rubbing is special."

  "But isn't it bad luck to step on a grave?" asked Marcie Bee.

  Richie Corrierro crept forward in a monster pose, his eyes wide and his hands raised like claws as if he were about to grab someone. "Of course it is, my dear," he said in a sinister voice. "The ghosts of the people buried there will rise up and GET YOU!"

  Marcie shrieked as he jumped toward her, and small screams rippled through the crowd. Melanie shuddered. She didn't believe in ghosts, but still . . . they were nothing to joke about.

  "That's enough, Richie," Mrs. Clark said, glaring at him. "That's just an old superstition," she went on, smiling kindly at Marcie. "As long as we are all well mannered and behave ourselves"—she paused, looking at Richie again—"we have nothing to worry about. Now run along, boys and girls, and find your stones so that we can get started making our rubbings."

  Melanie was standing a little way apart from the others, and she shaded her eyes with a hand and glanced out over the field of tombstones in the direction Gran Pennington had said she would find Cordia Mae Lee's grave. All of the stones were old, and some went back as far as the Revolutionary War, but many were even older, dating to the first settlers. They were mostly small stones with scrolly writing and curved tops. Some had pictures of angels carved on them or of sailing ships or open books that were probably meant to represent the Bible.

  After she got her bearings, Melanie went straight toward her great-great-grandmother's grave as boys and girls scattered through the rows like an army of bugs. She could see Jana three rows over, marching in the same direction, but she didn't even look Melanie's way. Behind her, she could hear Mrs. Clark scolding Clarence Marshall for broad-jumping over the gravestones, but most kids, she noticed, were being careful to walk around the graves.

  Finally she knelt in front of the tiny white stone bearing her great-great-grandmother's name.

  Cordia Mae Lee Gardner

  Born October 4, 1896

  Died March 7, 1955

  Gardner would have been her married name, Melanie thought, wondering if he had been one of the young men who had written Cordia letters, or better still, if he had been in one of the pictures in her great-great-grandmother's album. Perhaps he was John, the one Cordia had called her best beau, or Charles, her mysterious beau.

  Reaching forward, she rubbed a finger over the words on the stone, feeling a sense of relief. At least here was someone who would understand her. If only Cordia were here to talk to her now.

  CHAPTER 10

  Just then Mrs. Clark came bustling up. "What color crayon would you like?" she asked, handing Melanie the other supplies she needed for her rubbing.

  "Gold," Melanie said proudly. "This is my great-great-grandmother's tombstone."

  Mrs. Clark nodded appreciatively. "Have you learned a lot of interesting things about her from your family that you can share with the class?"

  Melanie swallowed a giggle. "Yes . . . um . . . I think so."

  The teacher gave her a gold crayon, nodded again, and moved on.

  Melanie busied herself taping the heavy paper over the lettering, wishing again that she could talk to Cordia.

  "If you were here," she said softly, "I'd tell you about my boyfriends and ask you how to get them to pay more attention to me." Melanie sighed. "Shane didn't even look at me when he was telling the story about Igor on the bus," she went on. "I don't think he likes me anymore."

  She picked up the gold crayon and gently rubbed it against the surface, watching the letters and numbers magically appear on the paper. "And Scott acts as if I'm invisible. I'll bet you'd know what to do. You were a real expert on things like that."

  Suddenly she pushed too hard and her crayon zipped right off the edge of the stone, landing in the grass. When she reached for it, she noticed for the first time that Scott was working on a rubbing only two stones away. Had he chosen that tombstone on purpose so that he could be near her?

  Melanie giggled as she reached for the crayon. It was almost as if she had received a message from Great-great-grandmother Cordia to look in that direction. Otherwise she might not have noticed him for ages.

  The idea gave her a creepy feeling and she started to work on her rubbing again when another thought occurred to her. Maybe Cordia was answering her questions about her boyfriends. Maybe she was saying that Melanie should flirt with Scott even though he had been ignoring her. Maybe she was even saying that she should concentrate on Scott and forget about Shane—at least for now. Of course, she thought gleefully. That has to be it! The rotten mood she had been in earlier suddenly disappeared.

  Melanie smoothed her long hair with one hand. Then she took a deep breath and called as sweetly as she could, "Hi, Scott, what color crayon are you using?"

  "Green," he replied matter-of-factly, but Melanie was certain she could detect a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth. She had been right. She was supposed to flirt with him, after all.

  "Mine's gold because this is where my great-great-grandmother is buried," she bragged. "Come here a minute and I'll show you how gorgeous this rubbing is going to be when I'm finished."

  Scott got to his feet slowly, but Melanie couldn't help noticing that he reached her in an instant and knelt beside her in the grass. Then he took a long look at the rubbing as if it were the most interesting thing he had seen in a long time.

  "Yeah, that's really nice," he said, darting quick looks at her out of the corner of his eyes.

  Melanie had to fight down an urge to giggle with delight. What would I ever have done without Great-great-grandmother Cordia? she wondered.

  She scooted a little bit closer to him and said softly, "Her life was sooooo romantic. I know because I read all of her love letters. They're tied together with a pink ribbon, and my grandmother keeps them in an old trunk."

  "Wow," said Scott, looking at her in astonishment. "But didn't you feel funny reading them? I mean . . . aren't they kind of personal?"

  Melanie's mind raced to find an answer. She didn't want him to think she was a snoop. "Don't forget what Mrs. Clark said about learning things from studying our ancestors," she said quickly. Then she added coyly, "I'm learning a lot of things about love from reading her letters."

  Scott fidgeted slightly, then raised his eyes to meet hers. "You are?" he asked shyly, but Melanie was sure she detected a hopeful sound in his voice.

  She nodded, glancing gratefully at Cordia's gravestone and then back at Scott again. Next, she would simply ask to see his gravestone rubbing and compliment him on how beautiful it was. Then she would ask him about his ancestors, and by then he would probably have forgotten all about whatever it was that had made him ignore her lately. In fact, he might even be ready to ask her out again.

  Suddenly Mrs. Clark spoiled everything by peeking around a tall monument with a winged angel on top and shouting, "Scott Daly. Are you finished with your rubbing?"

  Scott jumped to his feet. "Not yet," he said in a flustered voice.

  "We're leaving in twenty minutes, so you'd better get busy."

  Scott nodded to Mrs. Clark and bounded toward his own gravestone, stopping halfway there to look back at Melanie.

  "I've got to get busy," he said, echoing Mrs. Clark.

  "Sure," said Melanie demurely. "I understand. I'll talk to you later."

  Scott nodded again and set to work on his rubbing. Melanie knelt in front of her great-great-grandmother's gravestone again and picked up the gold crayon. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was near enough to notice, she leaned toward the stone and whispered, "Thanks. That really worked. I think he likes me again."

  She waited for a moment, although she didn't really expect an answer from Cordia, and then she began working on the rubbing again, humming to herself as she worked. It took only a few more moments to finis
h the rubbing, and she rocked back onto her heels and looked at it with pleasure.

  "It's beautiful," she said out loud. But then she noticed one spot on the upper right-hand side where she had missed. She leaned forward and poised the gold crayon in front of her when something caught her eye just above the tombstone. She squinted and looked again over the spot she had forgotten to color on the rubbing. She sucked in her breath. She was looking straight at Shane!

  Melanie gulped. Was she getting another message from Great-great-grandmother Cordia?

  "Of course I am," she whispered, and then she thought, otherwise why would I have forgotten to color in that teensy, tiny little bit of the gravestone rubbing? Cordia didn't want me just to notice Scott. She wanted me to notice Shane, too!

  She chewed her lower lip and tried to decide what to do. But before she could come up with anything clever, Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Blankenship were both marching around the tombstones shouting for everyone to pick up their things and get ready to leave.

  "The buses will be here in five minutes," called Mrs. Clark. "Untape your rubbings carefully. If you need to do more work to them, we can finish them in class Monday."

  Melanie glanced back over her shoulder at Cordia's gravestone as she tucked her rubbing under her arm and headed for the buses. So what if she hadn't gotten to talk to Shane here? She would find another chance to get his attention. After all, she thought with a smile, she was positive that was exactly what her great-great-grandmother would have done.

  CHAPTER 11

  On the bus ride back to school, Melanie thought back over the afternoon at the cemetery. She knew down deep that she hadn't really gotten any messages from her great-great-grandmother, who had been dead all these years. But still, if it hadn't been for Cordia, she might never have gotten up the courage to flirt with Scott and Shane again. Well, probably not never, she corrected herself. She only wished that she could have gotten the chance to talk to Shane before now.

  The only other thing that had kept the afternoon from being perfect was the fact that she hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Funny and set her new plan in motion. As they were getting off the bus, she grabbed Funny's arm and asked, "Are you going to Bumpers after school?"