Melody (Logan 1)

Alice's mother was very proud of their home, which she told me on more than one occasion was a colonial revival, a house with historical architecture. It had two stories and a front porch. They had an attached garage. The house had twelve rooms. The living room looked as big as our entire trailer. Alice's room was certainly twice the size of mine, and her brother Tommy's room was even bigger. The one tim

e I looked in at the master bedroom with its own bathroom, I thought I had entered a palace.

Tommy was in the kitchen when we entered the house. He sat on a stool, smearing peanut butter on a piece of bread and holding the phone receiver between his ear and shoulder. The moment he saw me, his eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted.

"I'll call you back, Tina," he said and cradled the receiver. "I'm sorry about what happened to your father. He was a really nice guy."

"Thank you."

He looked at Alice for an explanation of what we were doing, why she had brought me to their house. Everyone was making me feel as though I carried a disease. No one wanted to be directly confronted with sorrow as deep as mine.

"We're going up to my room," Alice told him.

He nodded. "Would you like something to eat? I'm just having a snack."

I hadn't really had anything substantial to eat for days and my stomach bubbled at the suggestion. "Maybe I should eat something."

"I'll make us some sandwiches and bring them up to my room," Alice said.

"Mother doesn't like you to have food in your room, Alice," Tommy reminded her.

"She'll make an exception this time," Alice retorted. Her older brother retreated from the fury of her eyes and her stern expression.

"I don't want to make any trouble," I said softly.

"I guess it will be all right as long as you don't make a mess," Tommy relented. "How's your mother doing?"

"She's doing fine," I said hesitantly. He nodded, gazed at Alice who continued to glare at him defiantly, and then he took a bite of his sandwich.

"Let's go up to my room, first," Alice suggested, pivoting and taking my hand. I followed.

We went quickly up the carpeted, winding stairway to her room.

"Sorry my brother is such a dork," she said. "We're always fighting because he's so bossy. You can lie down if you want," she said nodding at her fluffy pillows and comforter on her queen size bed. It had pink posts and a frilly light pink canopy. The headboard was shaped like a Valentine heart. I dreamed of having a bed like this instead of the simple mattress and box springs I had now.

I took off my coat and sat on the bed.

"I thought Bobby Lockwood was going to come to your house," Alice said.

"I knew he wouldn't. He looked terrified at church and at the cemetery," I said.

"I know you like him, but I don't think he's that mature," Alice remarked.

"No one's very mature when it comes to this sort of thing. I don't blame him for running away from me."

"If he really liked you, he would want to be with you, to help you."

I knew Alice hated whenever I had a boyfriend because it took me away from her.

"Right now, I don't care very much about boys," I said.

She nodded, pleased.

"I'll run down and make us some sandwiches and bring them up with milk, okay?"

"Don't get in trouble on my account."

"I won't. Just rest or read something or turn on the television set, if you want. Do anything you want," she offered.