"Speak: A Possible Perspective by Nicole Andrews"
Disclaimer: The characters in the book Speak belong to Laurie Halse Anderson.
There is something about Melinda Sardino that I have noticed over time. These various sorts of things have grown throughout the year in all of my closest friends actually, including me, myself. You could call me prep, that girl who can send a tennis ball whizzing down a quarter mile field and over the fence into the forest. I don't care about the way I dress and have presumed chemical allergic reactions to makeup ever since I was little. The new girl, Heather I believe, is quite the opposite. Her platinum hair is always straitened as if it's a rule and she saunters around in uncomfortable-appearing sandals during the fall! She whines and pleads for things from Melinda like a puppet-on-strings. She compliments on the poor girl, the way she hides herself from everyone, doesn't want to be a target. Melinda practically wants a friend and Heather cannot look past the obvious expressions on her face. Melinda just nods along, begging for some friendship and disagrees with her complaints over small situations. Listening is fine, yes, but speaking is a touch better, it achieves your issues. You get my gist, here?
I have tried to cheer Melinda up anyhow before, never seen her wrath so spilled until that day. The tennis match broke between us and when she lost, Andy Evans, a boy I never paid any attention to, laughs at her, mockingly. That jerk made her storm off with such a fierce look on her face and forced the racket to the gravel in furry. That beast continued, I was ready to scream at him, but the coach blew his whistle and called the match to quit. He left, snickering at the scowl on my face. Just wait and I'll throw some weight off of Melinda and onto him. This isn't any of my business, but seeing the child depressed is like seeing my Mom dejected from the fight about their divorce three years ago. Elaine, my sister, Robby, my brother, and I made a marble cake for her to forget about Dad, a drug addict. Something like that could cheer her up. I don't mind if Melinda does not want to talk to me, just give her joy is best at thought, currently.
Later that day, I stopped by Rachel or Rachelle as she had changed it this year, which I find just silly, at her locker. Her lips moved quickly in Malay or Tagalong or something to another girl with shiny black hair and ecstatic almond-shaped eyes. They were spilling out about winning yet another spelling bee; I bet it's one done in Singapore or the Philippines. I rolled my eyes behind their ears, and politely excused myself saying Hello.
The quiet friend of hers returned the greeting but Rachel narrowed her chestnut eyes. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she whispered to her some lie I misunderstood. Sighing in a frustrated glance, the girl looked at me curiously. I tried mouthing out something to convince Rachel. Rachel grabbed her wrist automatically and sauntered by me, bumping my text books to the floor.
"You didn't have to do that," her friend whispered in English.
Rachel thinks I blew her off for reasons unbelievable. She thinks the same toward Melinda, over a phone call to the police! The police came, Melinda was in danger. Rachel didn't understand that. She doesn't understand her current danger zone if she were ever alone with Andy once more, which is a high possibility. They must be off to the library, according to reading block on our schedule during Wednesdays. Melinda was over there now.
It was time to convince Ivy, the artist and my other closest friend. Knowing her down to earth personality, she must now the right way to comfort Melinda. So could Travis Pulaski, the soul mate of Melinda's heart, eyes, and ears.
Ivy stood in front of a splattered canvas, analyzing a sketch of an acrylic pine tree. We began an awkward conversation that lead to her explaining about an issue this morning, she had sensed a bit of oppression in Melinda. She could feel a "blue aura within". The art teacher instructed her to take her to the nurse. Melinda had cut herself, bleeding brighter than her hair. He was shaky about it, Ivy was calm and soothing. Melinda showed no expression, but followed her down the hallway, for the console of a former friend.
In the afternoon, I tried tackling down Andy. Oddly enough, though a bit expected at some point this Spring, he and his prized girlfriend Rachelle, sat chatting quite critically about something. Their voices were muffled and Andy's lips hid behind the steering wheel. Rachel looked extremely disgusted, glaring into his sweaty guilt. He drew back his hand and stopped when I came out gasping. He was ready to slap her. He jumped out of the car, yanked the door shut, and bolted away into the parking lot.
"You -," He shouted back at her. "How can you believe her?"
"She's my best friend," Rachel followed his steps and paused at the sidewalk, watching him almost get run over by a proceeding bus. "You could have messed up her life with aids, leading to HIV. You could have just as much, idiot! Spread diseases, why not?"
Her rage exploded but she forced herself calm after a minute or two. The scene was drawing attention. Momentarily, after peering heads of concern or plain nosiness, she ran back into the school. Catching up, I called after her. She spun around ferociously in unease, strands of brown hair sticking to her sweaty face, flushing red. Tears started forming; she surrendered leisurely on keeping up with the attitude.
"I hate him. I'm so stupid," She muttered. She drew into my reassuring hug.
"Actions speak louder than words and it looks like Andy had hurt Melinda with a big heart gouge. You did the right thing. You two were in the library together. Did you work everything out alright? Does she feel any better?"
"Nicole…" she sniffled into my shirt. "No wonder she called the cops. And she couldn't have told anyone. She was afraid. I think so, I hope so. Not in the selfish way, she deserves much better for all this time in the dumps."
"If you think it over, it was never your fault, no one knew. You misunderstood. Some boys just need to grow up. He needs a lesson taught, in the right way."
She nodded, agreeing. The atmosphere was so silent that when the bell rung, it was higher than an alarm. Melinda will have her suit of armor, soul and physical being.