Melinda’s Story
When I couldn’t turn on my phone in the morning, I realized the battery was dead. Again. At school, I always plugged it in while I was studying. Usually when I went to bed, too. Without my regular routine, I was finding it difficult to keep my phone charged. After plugging it into the wall charger, I went downstairs for breakfast.
My mother greeted me as she walked into the kitchen. “Hey, honey. I’m glad you’re up. Would you mind coming with me to run some errands while your brother’s in school?”
I shrugged one shoulder, opening the cabinet to examine the cereal choices. “What kinds of errands?”
I thought my mother might be trying to hide a smile as she left the room. “It’s not really a request. Please get dressed when you’re done eating. I’d like to leave as soon as your brother gets on the bus.”
The middle school bus had barely pulled away from our house when my mother was pulling out of the driveway. A few moments later, when she pulled onto the highway, I sent her a curious look.
“Um, Mom?”
The car slowed to a crawl, stuck in the traffic that plagued southern Connecticut highways in the morning.
“Yes?”
“Where exactly did you say we were going?”
“Well, I got a phone call last night from Mrs. Evans.”
“Walter’s mom?”
“Yes. She was calling to invite you over, and I told her I was hesitant about you dating her son.”
“Oh, Mom! You didn’t!”
“I did. She said she thought you and Walter were just friends, and I explained that you were dating Patrick. Well, she didn’t know and she is equally concerned. So, she changed the invitation.”
“She uninvited me?”
“No. She invited me to come along. So, we are going to the Evans-slash-McGregor house to have coffee.”
I pouted. “Are you going to make me break up with him?”
“I doubt that would do any good.”
“What do you have against him?”
“Melinda, you’re dating a teenage heartthrob.”
As annoyed and embarrassed as I was, I couldn’t help but giggle. My mother spared me a glance. “What?”
“I’ve never heard that term before.”
“What do you call the boy who’s on the cover of every teen magazine in the checkout line?”
“One of Hollywood’s hottest teen stars.”
“Oh. That’s too hard to say. And that was a nice way to help me forget my point.”
The drive took over an hour, mostly because we were stuck in some horrible traffic. We followed the GPS on my mother’s phone until we found ourselves in a neighborhood of large houses with gated driveways. After a while, my mother pulled into one such driveway. She rolled down the window, letting in the nippy November air as she pressed the button on the call box.
“Yes?” The voice on the other end sounded like Pat’s mother.
“Hi. This is Christina Luzzelli and Melinda.”
“Oh, hi! Come on in.” The gate swung inward and my mother drove up the long driveway, which was lined with tall trees that blocked the view of the house. It was not until we reached the circle in front of the house that I got my first glimpse.
The powder blue house was two stories tall and easily three times the size of my house. My mother parked in front of the wide patio. I followed her up the three steps to the oak front door, which was opened before we could ring the bell.
I almost didn’t recognize Mrs. Evans, even though I had grown up watching her movies and had even met her last month. The slender woman, who was only slightly taller than me, was dressed in blue jeans and a lavender scoop-neck sweater that fell to her knees. Her red hair was pulled back into a playful ponytail and she wore a huge smile.
“Melinda! It’s so great to see you again.” To my surprise, Mrs. Evan’s hugged me before turning to my mother. “And you must be Christina. Please, call me Kara. It’s great to have you here.”
“Um, hi.”
I bit back a giggle as I watched my mother hug her purse tight to her chest. I knew what was running through her mind. She wasn’t sure if she should hug or shake hands with the famous Kara McGregor.
We were standing in a large two-storied foyer with sparkly white tiled floor and a hanging chandelier. I looked around, noticing curving staircases on either side of the wide entryway. Behind Mrs. Evans was what appeared to be a living room with glass sliders leading to an indoor pool.
“Who’s here, Mom?” asked a voice behind Mrs. Evans.
Walter turned the corner, holding a plate in one hand and a sandwich in the other. His face broke into a wide grin when he saw me. I was a little surprised to see him return the sandwich to the plate without taking a bite.
“Hey!” He came to give me a big hug before waving to my mother, whom he had met at Parents’ Weekend. “Hi, Mrs. Luzzelli.”
My mother smiled, maybe even relaxing slightly. “Hi, Walter. How are you?”
“Hungry,” his mother replied. “He’s always eating. Will you please take that back to the kitchen? How many times do I have to remind you that food should not leave the kitchen?”
My mother laughed. “Oh, I have to remind my son of that daily. And I still find plates in his room.”
Mrs. Evans must have realized we were still standing in the entryway. “Please, won’t you come in? Can I take your coats?”
“Sure.” My mother and I shrugged out of our jackets, which Mrs. Evans hung in a closet under the left staircase. She then led us through the living room into a spacious kitchen, where Walter was sitting at an island eating his sandwich.
“Yuh dinnuh say yuh wuh come um.” At least Walter thought to cover his mouth as he spoke so his sandwich would not fly out.
His mother was still upset with him. “Walter!”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Pat bounded into the room, a leaner, slightly taller version of his younger brother, with much more red in his hair. “Melinda’s used to it. Walter talks with his mouth full all the time at school.”
“Tattletale.” Walter made a face at his brother behind his mother’s back.
Mrs. Evans looked from one boy to the other. “I invited Melinda and her mother here. We’re having coffee together. You.” She pointed at Walter. “Finish up and go clean your playroom. You.” She turned to Pat. “Sit down.”
I immediately felt guilty. Mrs. Evans was using a tone of voice that clearly indicated Pat was in trouble. Walter finished his sandwich in three wordless bites, reached over the island to place his plate in the sink, and sent me a small wave with a quizzical look as he passed me and disappeared toward the entryway.
“Please, sit down.” Mrs. Evans gestured to a breakfast nook with three bench seats. I sat across from my mother. Pat slid in beside me, although, at a greater distance than he usually did. Was it because our mothers were there, or because the rumors about him and Poppy Sommers were true?
We sat in silence as Mrs. Evans placed a plate of scones in the center of the table, then carried over four steaming mugs. I waved a hand in front of me.
“Oh. I, um, I don’t drink coffee.”
Mrs. Evan’s smiled as she sat on the third bench. “I should hope not. It’s cocoa.”
Pat groaned and Mrs. Evans glared at him. “Not Meghan’s, the real stuff.” She turned back to me. “Your mother and I have coffee. But, the scones are sugar-free. Meghan’s been learning to cook.”
“Is she taking better care of herself?”
Pat took a sip of his cocoa. “She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. If she gets a bad report, Mom threatened to move back in with her.”
Mrs. Evans turned to my mother. “My daughter has diabetes. She was having a difficult time managing it a couple of months ago, but she’s been doing better lately.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I could tell my mother had no idea what to say.
Mrs. Evans turned back to her son. “So, Pat. I thought I would surprise Walter by inviting his friend to come over today. Imagine my surprise when Mrs. Luzzelli said she was uncomfortable with Melinda dating my son.”
Pat face and neck turned red as he stared into his cocoa. “I was going to tell you. Maybe Walter was.”
My mother looked to Pat. “I’m just concerned because you’re so much older than Melinda.” I tried to melt into my seat.
Mrs. Evans turned toward my mother. “Wait. That’s your biggest concern?”
“Well, I’m not thrilled that he’s a—what was the term you used, Melinda?”
I shook my head, unable to speak. My mother rolled her eyes. “I forgot. Anyway, I suppose the fact that you guys are, you know, celebrities. I guess that’s a little uncomfortable. But, that’s not anyone’s fault, really. I’m more concerned that my thirteen-year-old is dating a sixteen-year-old.”
Mrs. Evans considered my mother a moment. “I must say, you are really handling the Hollywood thing rather well. I don’t think the kids have ever had a friend over whose parents weren’t—”
“Freaking out about being here?” Pat smiled into his mug, his face slowly returning to its normal color.
My mother smiled slightly, turning to Pat. “My son chased you down for an autograph during Parents’ Weekend. Melinda refused, pointing out you were trying to be a normal person. That’s who I’m trying to see.”
Pat returned her smile with the one that had made him famous. “Did she tell you that was my first day back on campus?”
“No. She actually didn’t even mention she knew you at the time.”
“Don’t get mad at her. It was Walter. He didn’t want anyone knowing I was his brother. It took him pretty much until the end of the term before he was okay with people finding out.”
“So, when did this start?” Mrs. Evans waved a finger between me and Pat.
“Two weeks ago,” I whispered, while at the same time Pat replied, “Parents’ Weekend.”
“Well, which was it?” My mother furrowed her brow. “No, wait. I know it wasn’t Parents’ Weekend, because at your show you said you and Pat were just friends.”
“I guess it was the Victory Ball.” Pat was again turning red, staring at the plate of cookies as he spoke. “We were dancing and . . . we realized we liked each other.”
“We were both confused.” My voice was quiet. It was easier to watch the scones than the mothers.
“It took a while for us to figure out what was going on. I guess, technically, we got together the week after the dance.”
Mrs. Evans looked at her son. “And, how does your brother feel about you dating his friend?”
Pat said nothing. My response was barely a whisper. “He thinks we’re good together.”
“Well, I’m not comfortable with it.” My mother was clearly agitated. “I don’t like the fact that you two are running around with no supervision.”
“Mom!” I glared at my mother.
Mrs. Evans nodded. “I happen to agree. I remember how easy it is to sneak someone into the dorms.”
“Mom!” Pat send his mother a look of terror. “It’s not like that. You know I would never step foot in her dorm. All those third form girls . . .” I felt Pat give an involuntary shiver, but his mother just raised her eyebrows at him.
I smiled weakly. “They would eat you alive.”
Pat nodded knowingly.
His mother gave a dismissive wave. “That’s a ridiculous argument.”
“I told my mom about your chastity card.” I whispered so quietly, I wasn’t sure Pat even heard me.
Until he sent me a pained look, growing even more red. “What? Why?”
The look on his face brought tears to my eyes. If we somehow survived this conversation, I wasn’t sure that Pat would even want to be with me anymore.
With a sigh, Pat reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He pulled out something that looked like a business card and passed it to my mother, not meeting her eyes as he explained himself. He spoke quickly, as if getting the words out faster would lessen his obvious humiliation.
“A couple of summers ago, I went on this religious retreat. I learned a lot about chastity. It made me realize that God wants us to save the physical part of a relationship for marriage, and I intend to do so.”
I chanced a glance at my mother in time to see her pass the card to Mrs. Evans with a skeptical look.
“I know you think that now, but I find it hard to believe you’re not going to change your mind.”
Pat shrugged. “I’m not.”
I knew my mother was far from convinced.
Mrs. Evans looked at her son. “At the very least, I don’t want you in each other’s dorm rooms.”
“That’s already a rule.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve read the handbook.”
I smiled, daring to glance up, though my voice was still quiet. “It’s one of our rules.” At my mother’s raised eyebrows, I continued. “Pat and I were really confused. So, we’ve done a lot of talking about some of these things you guys are worried about. And one thing we both agreed was that neither one of us is comfortable in each other’s room. I’m not even comfortable in his common room. It’s just . . . inappropriate.”
There was a moment of silence, in which I could see both mothers digesting this information. Mrs. Evans was the first to speak.
“What are you going to tell Cynthia?”
Was Cynthia was another girlfriend Pat was juggling, like Poppy? I held my breath while I waited for his response. It was nearly a whine.
“Do I have to tell her?”
Mrs. Evans looked at me, then back to her son. “We can discuss this later. Why don’t you show Melinda to the playroom while I speak with Mrs. Luzzelli? Maybe Walter’ll clean it for her. And, the same rules apply here, Mister. I’m sorry, Melinda, but you’re not allowed in Pat’s room alone. If one of the other kids wants to go with you, that’s fine.”
“Oh, that’s fine with me, Mrs. Evans.” I smiled, looking at Pat’s mother for the first time since the conversation began. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable being in Pat’s room anyway.”
Pat waited for me to slide off the bench after him before taking my hand and leading me toward the entryway. As we turned the corner, I heard Mrs. Evans say, “I’m impressed by your daughter’s maturity.”
I was more surprised by my mother’s response. “Honestly, so am I.”
Pat’s Story
“Have you talked to Melinda?” I asked Walter in the gym after our Monday morning run.
Walter stretched his calves. “Haven’t you been talking to her all weekend?”
“Well, yeah, but I haven’t heard from her since before supper last night. I missed a call from her, since you made me put my phone away during Weddas. When I tried calling her back, she didn’t pick up.”
“Her phone’s probably dead again.” Walter shrugged, heading to the weight bench.
“Her phone’s never dead.”
Walter stared at me for a moment, before shaking his head mournfully. “You seriously don’t know your girlfriend, do you?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I must have sent him some sort of blank stare, because he continued. “Melinda always forgets to charge her phone. That’s why she keeps her charger in her backpack. So she can plug it in during study hours. Haven’t you ever noticed it’s usually dead on Sundays because she doesn’t study on Saturday?”
I shook my head, handing my brother the barbell. “We got together just before finals. We spent nearly every day in the library.”
Walter raised and lowered the bar, speaking between reps. “She’s . . . not . . . avoiding . . . you.”
It was scary that my brother could read my mind like that. Of course I was worried she had been avoiding me. As I headed to my shower ten minutes later, I still wasn’t convinced he was right.
The gate bell rang a couple of hours later. I hadn’t realized we were expecting company. Mom must have, because I heard her open the door. Was that Melinda’s voice I heard downstairs? Was she here to visit Walter or me? Uh oh! She didn’t tell my mom about me and her, did she?
I hurried to the kitchen, walking in as my mother was scolding Walter, who was sitting at the island, for eating with food in his mouth. I was a nervous wreck, but a really good actor. I kept my tone as lighthearted as possible.
“It’s okay, Mom. Melinda’s used to it. Walter talks with his mouth full all the time at school.”
I tried to wink at Melinda, but she was avoiding my eye. I didn’t even have the energy to bicker with my brother when he stuck out his tongue and called me a tattletale. Seriously? Was he fourteen or four?
Mom glanced at Walter, then me. “I invited Melinda and her mother here. We’re having coffee together.” She pointed at Walter. “You. Finish up and go clean your playroom.” She pointed to me. “You. Sit down.”
It was the you’re-in-big-trouble-now-mister tone of voice. Walter recognized it, too, since he raised his eyebrows at me, then Melinda. He gulped his sandwich down in three bites and reached over the counter to put his plate in the sink, waving at his friend as he headed upstairs.
“Please, sit down.” Mom gestured our guests to the table, where Melinda and her mother sat on opposite sides. I slid onto the bench beside Melinda, not nearly as close as I wanted to. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but I figured she wouldn’t be comfortable with me putting my arm around her in front of her mother. Frankly, I wasn’t comfortable doing so in front of my own mother.
Mom busied herself around the kitchen, pulling a plate of scones from the microwave. I knew she hid them there so Walter wouldn’t find them. Somehow, the bloodhound had never figured it out. After placing the plate on the table, she passed out four steaming mugs.
Melinda waved her hand in front of her. “Oh. I, um, I don’t drink coffee.” She was so adorable, it took every ounce of my strength not to put my arm around her. Then again, one look at her mother reminded me why it would be a bad idea.
Mom smiled, sitting on the bench between me and Mrs. Luzzelli. “I should hope not. It’s cocoa.”
I groaned. Ever since Meghan got sick back in September, Mom had stocked the house with gross sugar-free stuff.
Mom sent me a pointed look. “Not Meghan’s. The real kind. Your mother and I have coffee. But, the scones are sugar-free. Meghan’s been learning to cook.”
“Is she taking better care of herself?”
This was one of the things I liked best about Melinda. Instead of staring at the plate, thinking about how gross the cookies were going to be (like I was), she was actually concerned about my sister’s health. I winked at her as I sipped my drink.
“She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. If she gets a bad report, Mom threatened to move back in with her.” No one returned my smile. That was unusual. My smile helped make me famous. It was infectious. Everyone said so. I felt like I was at a funeral.
Mom explained to Mrs. Luzzelli about Meghan’s diabetes and the incident she had a few months ago. Then, she turned to me. I knew before she started talking I was in big trouble. It was something in her eyes.
“I thought I would surprise Walter by inviting his friend to come over today. Imagine my surprise when Mrs. Luzzelli said she was uncomfortable with Melinda dating my son.”
I could feel my face and neck grow hot. I stared into my mug, willing this conversation to go away. “I was going to tell you. Maybe Walter was.”
“I’m just concerned because you’re so much older than Melinda,” her mother said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Melinda shrink a little in her seat.
Mom looked at Mrs. Evans. “Wait. That’s your biggest concern?”
Melinda’s mother shrugged. “Well, I’m not thrilled that he’s a—what was the term you used, Melinda?”
My girlfriend shook her head. I wondered what she had said about me. I made a mental note to ask her, if we ever survived this conversation. Her mother continued.
“I forgot. Anyway, I suppose the fact that you guys are, you know, celebrities. I guess that’s a little uncomfortable. But, that’s not anyone’s fault, really. I’m more concerned that my thirteen-year-old is dating a sixteen-year-old.”
It was rare for people to look past the celebrity when they first met us. It was another one of the things I liked best about Melinda. She had never considered me Patrick McGregor.
Mom looked curiously at Mrs. Luzzelli a moment. “I must say, you are really handling the Hollywood thing rather well. I don’t think the kids have ever had a friend over whose parents weren’t—”
I could clearly recall the first time my friend Zach had visited with his parents. I gave a weak smile.
“Freaking out about being here?”
Melinda’s mother nodded toward me. “My son chased you down for an autograph during Parents’ Weekend.”
I remembered the incident well. At the time, I was pretty sure the boy was the one I had seen following Melinda around campus. My suspicions were confirmed when I met him on Thanksgiving. I had never told Melinda I knew, though.
Her mother continued. “Melinda refused, pointing out you were trying to be a normal person. That’s who I’m trying to see.”
“Did she tell you that was my first day back on campus?”
“No. She actually didn’t even mention she knew you.”
I could hear the concern in her voice. The last thing I wanted was to get Melinda in trouble. Blaming my brother sounded like the best option. “Don’t get mad at her. It was Walter. He didn’t want anyone knowing I was his brother. It took him pretty much until the end of term before he was okay with people finding out.”
Mom pointed to Melinda and me. “So, when did this start?”
“Two weeks ago,” Melinda said in a low voice beside me at the same time I muttered, “Parents’ Weekend.”
Her mother looked confused. “Well, which was it? No, wait. I know it wasn’t Parent’s Weekend, because at your show, you said you and Pat were just friends.”
I turned red and stared at the cookies. I considered shoving them all in my mouth to avoid this conversation. When I realized Melinda wasn’t going to speak, I sighed.
“I guess it was the Victory Ball. We were dancing and—” and I kissed her. But, I was NOT about to mention that to my girlfriend’s mother. And what? “We realized we liked each other.”
“We were both confused.” Melinda’s voice was whisper quiet. I glimpsed at her. She was also contemplating eating the cookies. Well, she was at least staring at them.
I returned my gaze to the plate. “It took a while for us to figure out what was going on. I guess, technically, we got together the week after the dance.”
Mom looked at me. “And, how does your brother feel about you dating his friend?”
Seriously? How was I supposed to answer that? He told me to go for it? I didn’t think Melinda would be too happy with that. He told me not to make out in front of him? Not something I wanted to say to my mother. Or my girlfriend’s mother, for that matter.
“He thinks we’re good together.” Melinda looked up for a moment before quickly returning her gaze to the plate.
Melinda’s mother was playing nervously with the untouched mug in her hand. “Well, I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t like the fact that you two are running around with no supervision.”
“Mom!” Melinda sent her mother a mortified look.
Mom nodded. “I happen to agree. I remember how easy it is to sneak someone into the dorms.”
My mother did NOT just say that! To my girlfriend’s mother? We were never going to get out of this alive, were we?
I glared at my mother. “Mom! It’s not like that. You know I would never step foot in her dorm. All those third-form girls . . .” I shuddered at the thought.
Mom raised her eyebrows at me, but Melinda knew exactly what I was thinking.
She smiled weakly. “They would eat you alive.” I nodded knowingly, genuinely frightened of the thought.
“That’s a ridiculous argument.” Mom dismissed my fear with a wave of her hand.
“I told my mom about your chastity card.” Melinda muttered under her breath so quietly, I almost didn’t hear her.
I looked at her, feeling my face grow even hotter. “What? Why?”
I’m not sure what my expression was, but something Melinda saw brought tears to her eyes. It broke my heart. I hated knowing I had upset her.
With a sighed and pulled my wallet from my pocket. I wasn’t exactly sure why I wore it around the house, other than the fact that it was a habit. I removed the small card and passed it to Melinda’s mother, not daring to look at her as I quickly explained what it was.
“A couple of summers ago, I went on this religious retreat. I learned a lot about chastity. It made me realize that God wants us to save the physical part of a relationship for marriage, and I intend to do so.”
I couldn’t even look at the cookies anymore. I stared at my hands in my lap, although I noticed Mrs. Luzzelli pass the card to Mom. The look on her face was enough to tell me she didn’t believe me.
“I know you think that now, but I find it hard to believe you’re not going to change your mind.”
I shrugged. “I’m not.”
Mom placed the card back on the table beside me. “At the very least, I don’t want you in each other’s dorm rooms.”
“Oh, that’s already a rule.” I palmed the card, returning it to my wallet under the table.
“No, it’s not. I’ve read the handbook.”
Melinda looked up with a smile. Her voice was still soft as she spoke. “It’s one of our rules. Pat and I were really confused. So, we’ve done a lot of talking about some of these things you guys are worried about. And one thing we both agreed was that neither one of us is comfortable in each other’s room. I’m not even comfortable in his common room. It’s just . . . inappropriate.”
Everyone was silent for a moment. Then, Mom turned to me.
“What are you going to tell Cynthia?”
I was taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Do I have to tell her?”
Mom looked between me and Melinda. “We can discuss this later. Why don’t you show Melinda to the playroom while I speak with Mrs. Luzzelli? Maybe Walter’ll clean it for her. And, the same rules apply here, Mister. I’m sorry, Melinda, but you’re not allowed in Pat’s room alone. If one of the other kids wants to go with you, that’s fine.”
“Oh, that’s fine with me, Mrs. Evans.” Melinda smiled at my mother, who seemed a little taken aback at being addressed by her legal name. Everyone had a tendency to call her Kara McGregor. Even my teachers tended to call her Mrs. McGregor. Melinda continued. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable in Pat’s room anyway.”
Melinda’s Journal
Monday, November 27
When I was about eight or nine years old, both my aunts were pregnant and my mother decided it would be the perfect time to explain to me how a baby ends up in a mother’s belly. She took me out to lunch at a fancy restaurant, waiting until we ordered before launching into her explanation. By the time our meal arrived, I had completely lost my appetite.
That discussion was a breeze compared to talking to my mother and Pat’s about our relationship. How am I ever going to look either of them in the eye ever again?
Attention Hammerheads
Melinda is always trying to build her vocabulary. What were some words in this episode that were new to you? She will add them to her vocabulary journal.
Hartfield Chronicles 