Touching Melody

21

Maddie

What the Hell





The rest of the week goes by in a blur of classes, homework, practice—piano practice and kissing Kyle practice—more homework, and hanging out with Gina. Repeat. By Friday night I’m exhausted. All I want to do is fall asleep, but I’ve promised Gina I’ll go to a party tonight. Be her wing woman, which basically means I’ve got her back and will keep her out of trouble. I’m nervous about it. If she drinks too much, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop her antics.

Kyle is going to meet us there. I’ve told him I need to focus on Gina, and he understands. He says he’ll keep an eye on her too. Very thoughtful. Very un-chauvinistic.

“Are you ready?” I ask, only a little impatient. Gina has changed her outfit for the sixth time. I’ve never seen her so undecided.

“Shit. I don’t know what’s wrong.” She kicks off a pair of boots and doesn’t put them back in their box.

I walk over. “Gina, what are you looking for?” I pat her knee.

She throws her hands in the air. “That’s the problem. I’m not sure.”

I walk to her closet and look through it. There’s a pair of jeans. Tags are still on them. I pull them off the hanger. “What about these?”

“Gross. I won’t wear...” She stops and grabs them. “Oh, what the hell.” She rips off the tags and her black leggings. Tosses them on the floor. Then pulls on the jeans. They fit like a second skin, tight all the way down to her ankles. The black shirt she’s wearing fits snugly. It doesn’t cover all of her stomach and exposes her belly button, her hipbones. She twirls in front of the mirror. “I like it.” She runs over to a shoebox, flings it open, and pulls out her ankle boots, the same ones she wore the first night we went to a party.

“You look gorgeous,” I say, and mean it. Her choppy blond hair is spiked everywhere. Her eyes are lined and her lips are reddened.

I’m wearing dark jeans, a blue sweater, and my black ballet flats. My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. I’ve put on some mascara and lip-gloss.

She grabs her purse and my stomach churns. Now that I know what’s in there, what she’s going to do, I feel an unnatural hated for her stupid black purse. I want to make her stop, tell her she doesn’t need to do what I know she’s going to do, but I don’t.

“I’ll be back in a few. Party face. Put it on.” She points the edge of the purse at me.

I nod, and try to smile.

Then she’s gone, and I collapse on the bed. There’s a new ache in my veins. It’s my worry for Gina. I care about her. I like her. She’s a friend. But I’m not sure what to say, how to make her stop doing what I know she shouldn’t. It can’t be good for her. I mean, cocaine is illegal for a reason.

I hear her slide the card in the door and smile big. The door opens and she puts her fists in the air.

“Yay. Party face.”

“Yay,” I respond with pretend enthusiasm and stand.

“K. Here’s the rules.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Rules?”

“No more than three drinks—the whole night. Lots of water. If a boy seems interested in either one of us, we stick by each other. No matter what. Deal?” She sticks up a hand, like she wants me to high-five her. I do.

“Deal.”

We head to the door. Gina looks me up and down. “Hey, you need a necklace.”

“I don’t have one,” I answer, pulling the door open. My mother always wore a silver locket. Inside was a picture of me and her and my dad. My aunt tried to recover it. Even talked to the police. But it was never found.

“Hang on,” she says, walking over to her jewelry box. She opens it and lifts out a long silver chain with a bulbous heart on the end. She places it around my neck and lets it fall against my chest. “That’s better.”

“Thanks, Gina.”

“Come on, Roomie. Let’s go have some fun.”





The party’s been going a while. I’m sitting on a large leather chair. Gina and I have followed our rules. I’ve had one shot. Just one. Pleasant detachment meanders through my insides. Every time I see a drink I want it, but I resist. Sipping water seems to help. Gina’s had two. Right now she’s dancing with a handsome guy. He has thick brown hair. A nice body under his white shirt and navy cargo pants. On his feet are loafers. They tell me he’s conceited but is casual about it. I’m bothered by the looks he keeps giving her. Looks I’m not sure are good. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s normal.

I haven’t seen Kyle yet. He hasn’t shown. And I wonder if he’s going to.

A giggly squeal forces my attention to a girl about to sit in the ratty green couch. It looks like the same one I saw at my first frat party. And I wonder if they pass it from house to house or if there was a giant sale on ugly green couches. As I’m watching, Stuart sidles over. He sits on the arm of my chair, reeking of too much cologne and not enough sense.

“Hello, Maddie.”

A slow anger builds in my stomach. I see him watching Gina, a smirk on his boyish mouth, and I want to heave my knee into it. Make him bleed. I grit my teeth. “Get away from me,” I seethe.

He looks at me, shocked. “Come on. Don’t be that way. I know you hooked up with Kyle. I never would’ve guessed you were into the rowdy shit.” He smiles like I should know what the hell he’s talking about, but I don’t. “Maybe tonight you, me, and Gina can get together. Just the three of us.” He nudges my arm, and I shove him back.

I move to get out of the chair but Stuart leans over, blocking my escape. “Don’t go. Come on. Kyle’s got nothing on me, sweetheart.”

A knot of alarm constricts my heart. I lash out. Use my annoyance to hide my panic. “Don’t you ever touch Gina or me again, you filthy prick.” My breathing is heavy, my fists clenched in my lap. I want to wipe the pretty-boy smile off his face with my nails. Take the stupid gold chain hanging from his neck and twist it until Stuart can’t breathe any more. I want to—

“Maddie, is this assface bothering you?” Kyle grabs Stuart by the shirt and yanks him away.

“Hey, douche. Watch the shirt. It cost six hundred bucks. That’s probably more than you’ve ever seen all at once.” Stuart readjusts his ugly, too fancy tee shirt, glaring at Kyle. “This isn’t an Alpha party and I’m not a grunt tonight. You, on the other hand, will always be the poor son of a dirty cop.”

Before I have a chance to be shocked at the way Stuart is talking to Kyle, Kyle punches Stuart in the nose. I hear a distinct crack. Stuart screams and falls back onto me. Kyle grabs him by the collar, lifts him, and punches him again. Stuart's blood sprays across my face, my neck, my sweater, and my hands.

Someone pulls Kyle off Stuart. “That’s enough, man. Take it easy.” I recognize one of the guys. He was our waiter the other night, and is Kyle’s cousin, Evan.

A couple of guys I don’t know are helping Stuart. He’s got a hand over his nose. When he speaks he sounds like he’s sporting a serious sinus infection. “If it’s broken, I’ll kill you.”

Kyle is no longer struggling against his cousin and the other guy. “Back off,” he says, and shoves Evan. They release him and he straightens. I’m surprised by how calm he looks. His breathing is calm. His hands are dangling loosely at his sides. There’s even a slight grin on his lips.

He takes a step toward Stuart. “I’d like to see you try, little Stewy.” Kyle pokes Stuart in the chest. “I may be the poor son of a dirty cop, but at least I’m not the p-ssy son of a dirty congressmen.”

Stuart looks like he wants to say more, but he must have a little sense because he doesn’t. He turns away. The two guys follow him.

Evan comes up behind Kyle and pats him on the back. “You okay, man?”

Kyle shakes him off, pushing out a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He turns his attention to me. Sticks out a hand. I grab it and he pulls me into his arms, kissing me full on the mouth. I want to be glad, but distress bells are pounding inside my head.

Hoots and hollers go up all over the room. Thick tension, I hadn’t noticed until now, shatters. The air is breathable again.

Kyle steps back. “We need to get you cleaned up, and then we’re having a shot.”

“Me? What about you?” I say, wiping at something red next to his mouth. It’s thick, still a little warm, and kind of sticky.

It hits me like a wrecking ball. It’s blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

My mind says it over and over. And I see all the blood pooling under my parents. The way they were lying there like they were sleeping. Except for all the blood underneath them. And I’m shaking. Trembling so much my teeth are chattering.

“Looks like Maddie’s in shock. What’s wrong, darlin’? Afraid of a little blood?”

The words ring in my ears, but I can’t focus on anything but the blood. It’s all over my fingers, my hands. I touch my face and feel it there.

“Shut up, Evan,” I hear Kyle snap.

“You and your family are nothing but trouble.” Gina’s voice. I think she’s talking to Kyle. I silently pray she doesn’t say more, but she goes on. “Maybe you should just leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough already?”

I lean into Gina.

“Hey, Roomie,” she whispers. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Y-Yes,” I respond.

“Come on.” She grabs my hand and starts to walk, but I can’t move. I’ve forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other. “Maddie?”

Someone—Kyle—lifts me into his arms. I want to scream. Beat my hands against his chest. My thinking is no longer rational. I know he just protected me, got in a fight with Stuart, but all I can focus on is the blood.

His father killed my parents, and it can’t be taken back.

“What are you doing?” Gina’s voice again.

“I’ll take her to her room.”