Finding Melody Sullivan preview

Chapter One: Camel in a Backpack

Melody gazed out the wide window of her favorite diner, The Buttered Biscuit, as an orange-bellied towhee foraged in the thick shrubbery and the earthy smell of old coffee drifted over her face, reminding her of the pile of unwashed mugs her dad had left in the sink. Her dense red curls were squashed by a black baseball cap, the visor on backwards. “Yaz, my dad said that bird is on some endangered list. Did you know that?”

Yasmina popped a loud pink bubble and tucked a stray hair into her blue hijab. A rim of sweat had collected on her forehead, and the black kohl lining her brown eyes glistened.

Melody rolled her basketball, sticky wet with cut grass, across the table.

“Don’t be gross.” Yasmina grabbed a paper napkin to wipe the green Formica surface. “Just cause I’m older, doesn’t mean I have to clean up after you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” The words slipped out before Melody could stop them.  Instinctively, her fingers went to the fading pink scars on her wrist. She always expected them to be red and raw, a screaming billboard for her grief. Yasmina's eyes narrowed as she watched Melody trace the raised bumpy lines. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Melody preempted her. She wasn't in the mood for Yasmina's pity. Or understanding.

”That bird’s just like me, endangered.” Melody meant to sound flippant, but instead it came out sounding pathetic, like a bird with a broken wing. The two friends stared across the table. A tense silence.

The ball bounced onto the faux leather seat, and Yasmina wedged it against the wall as the smell of fried onions and sizzling bacon wafted into their faces. The speckled Formica counter across from their booth was lined with customers and steaming cups of coffee. A multileveled plastic display of pies turned slowly near the cash register.

Melody folded her hands into her lap. Thoughts unfinished, as usual. Sometimes she felt so broken, so unfixable, even Yaz couldn’t help her.

The waitress hustled over with their food. “Okay, darlins, that’s two Cokes, one diet, one regular, one cheeseburger, tomato on the side, one doughnut.”

Melody nodded. “Thanks.” She frowned as she spotted a tall, gangly teenager peeking from behind the waitress. Aaron. “Fuck.” Melody reached for her cheeseburger and whispered, “Mr. Not-so-cute is here again.” Like an annoying brother who won’t leave me alone.