Hey everyone, long time no see.
I'm keeping this short and sweet. A Ruby By Any Other Name is postponed for now: I've decided to write this in an attempt to bring back my old fans and hopefully bring in some new ones. I'm fully aware that some of my newer stories have gone off in a tangent, so for that, I'm sorry. I also wrote this because I feel that Mel's story needs to be told – she was my first OC and I feel she's being neglected.
This chapter's basically an introduction into her world and the characters that will recur in the story. There's a nice little twist at the end of this chapter, I hope you enjoy it.
Give this a chance and I promise you'll like it. However, if Mel seems quite off-putting in this chapter, there's a very valid reason for it which I will explain at the end.
P.S. My health's still as terrible as always. Bah me. I know I stole the title from a brand of perfume, double bah me.
P.P.S. For some reason, I have a craving to be someone's mentor...PM me if you're interested!
The hands of time had been cruel to the occupants of the corner lunch table - not only were their high school years coming to an end, but in the space of a month they have had to help make decisions reserved for those of a much older age.
"Did you say roses or daffodils?" Suzie questioned, adjusting her glasses.
"Roses, Denise wants roses," Max reinforced with little confidence, scratching his head in an attempt to remember for himself.
As the school cafeteria was flooded with talk of soccer and supermodels, the quiet table in the corner resided in another world – a mature world. Four weeks from this day – two from their graduation – Max and Denise were to be wed. As Denise attended a different high school on the other side of the city, Max took advantage of this opportunity and made arrangements without her, using Suzie as his secretary.
The temporary secretary began nibbling at her pen. "What church?"
"I have an idea, why don't you two get married in a trailer?" Mel teased, shifting her sandwich from hand to hand.
"Oh my God, you know Mel, you are actually so funny," Max began. "You know, because you're implying that we're trailer trash. Seriously, you deserve cookies for that. Like I would never have heard that one before, nuh uh. You are so unique, Mel, just fantastic-"
"And it begins," she retaliated, turning to an awkward-looking Suzie.
Despite their childish bickering, Mel and Max had actually been best friends since middle school. Melanie was far from a tomboy, yet something between them seemed to spark and bring them closer together.
It was called algebra.
When Max and Denise became engaged a year ago, wild allegations and rumours were spread, convincing others that Mel had a secret crush on Max because she didn't immediately hop onto the marriage bandwagon. In reality, she was simply concerned about the person who had grown to be a brother to her rushing into a relationship, despite Denise's kindness.
The rumours had left a bitter aftertaste in Mel's mouth, especially when it ran the risk of endangering her own love life – something that seemed to remain in hibernation even during spring.
Ignorant of the aftertaste, Suzie made a bold statement. "I don't know why you're marrying Denise, Max, you and Mel act like an old married couple."
At once, both Max and Mel directed their piercing gazes towards Suzie. Upon realising her mistake, she covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," soothed Max. "Besides, it's Mel you need to apologise to; if you keep talkin' like that, people will think she's a lovesick puppy."
"Yeah, like a certain someone," giggled Suzie, winking at Max.
"If you guys don't shut up, I'm going to release the sweetcorn of doom," Mel spat, picking the sweetcorn from her egg salad sandwich.
"Oh God, not the sweetcorn of doom!" Suzie patronized. "Does he have a date for the prom yet?"
"Not that I know of."
"And do you have anyone lined up for the prom?"
"...Nope."
Upon hearing the news, Suzie slammed the pen aggressively on the crooked table. "Well then stop twirling your hair and ask him, girl!"
"Are you crazy? A girl can't ask a guy out!"
Suzie took a bite from her banana as she fought the forces of hilarity. "Sure, sure. While you're at it, why don't you go back to the farm and make your husband a sandwich like a good little oppressed wife?"
"Good one, Suze," Max held his hand up for a high five, which she happily accepted.
"Says the guy about to become the husband," in a moment of ill-temperament, Mel gathered her half-eaten lunch onto the tray and stood up, causing the worn-out seat to moan. "I've got a study period now; I'll see you guys in English."
"Aww, c'mon," Max protested.
Suzie tutted as her old friend fled the scene. "Jude won't be very happy."
Melanie felt a slight stab in her heart, yet continued to walk away from her 'friends'. For the first time in a long while, Suzie had referred to he by his real name: Jude. Jude Mitchell was her embarrassing high school crush – tall, strong and athletic, but these features only just outweighed his stupidity. As a result of this, he had gained the title of 'dumb blonde'.
How shallow of them.
--
After roaming the hallways, she began to regret leaving them suddenly to reflect on their words, but in all honesty, they were right. Why should men be the commanding sex? It was the 21st century – she could ask out whom she pleased, damn it!
"Damn it!" she heard a familiar voice call out from around the corner. As curious as she was, she slithered around the corner cautiously to see an infuriated Jude slamming his fist against his locker door, his face amber with frustration. "Why do these things have locks?"
"Because they wouldn't be safe without them," Mel came from behind the meaty man and teased him slightly.
Alarmed, Jude swung around and greeted his guest with a smile. "Hey...uh...Mel. Sorry ya had to see that, I forgot my locker combination again."
Throughout the whole year, Jude had been forgetting the combination to his locker. During late December, he was advised by his homeroom teacher to write his combination in his school diary.
But of course, the diary was trapped in his locker.
Being the fountain of pointless knowledge that she was, Mel decided to pipe in. "1960 – the year your mom was born. I saw it in your diary when we switched diaries by accident."
"I remember that day," Jude massaged his dominant chin. "I got scared when I thought I changed address! Thanks."
Jude turned his back to Mel and began entering his combination, releasing a satisfied hum when the door separated from its partnered lock. Despite knowing that she wasn't needed any longer, the bashful girl still lingered in his shadow.
Two weeks of high school remained, did she really need to spend minutes thinking about a question that would have little impact during prom fever? She didn't think so.
"Hey..." she chirped, still behind him. Similar to an obedient puppy, he turned his head immediately.
"Yeah?"
Melanie took a deep breath. "Are you going to the prom with anyone?"
"Yes and no," he answered proudly. "You see, I'm starting my own prom night revolution."
"Revolution?" she questioned, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah. See, girls always wait for the guy to ask them to the prom. I don't know about you, but I've always seen that as a sign of low confidence. Since I love the ladies and wanna help them, I've decided to go to the prom myself and wait for the girls to ask to dance with me themselves. That way they learn to stand tall...and I get to spread the Jude love. Ya hear me?"
Out of all the stupid ideas on the planet...
"Yeah, I do," Mel blatantly lied. "Great idea. I hope it works out for you and...the ladies. I'll see you there, okay?"
"Sure, see you," as Jude waved farewell, the dumbstruck teenager fled the few feet necessary to reach her locker in utter confusion. A 'revolution'? What was he thinking?
Wait, did he try to imply that she had no confidence?
Melanie sighed as she opened her locker door, finding truth in his words also. She could lack confidence at times, but she didn't realise that Jude, of all people, would sniff it out.
Maybe he was like a puppy in more ways than one?
Looking back at him from behind her locker door, she couldn't help but smile. If the alumni of Forest Lake High School were required to wear a Post-it of their defining feature, Jude's would most definitely be 'body'. She sounded like a hypocrite for thinking it, but credit was due was Jude's style of thinking – almost like a psychologist.
As the bell rang for the end of lunch, Mel gathered her books and returned to her everyday studies.
--
The standard hysteria sounded once more as cliques of teenagers burst forth from the school doors at the end of the school day. Max and Melanie's houses were separated by a ten minute walk, yet their paths home were separated for today.
"This is my stop." Max pointed out.
"Having a meeting with the in-laws?" she couldn't help but tease.
"Yeah; they're really going overboard with the wedding – not that I have a say in it anyway."
"The more the merrier, I say."
"Yeah, that's because Mr Stone – no wait, 'dad' – is footing the bill. I'm not allowed to put a cent towards it."
At the sight of the red glow from the traffic lights, Mel fixed the strap of her bag firmly to her shoulder and waved farewell to her friend. "I'll call you later – say hi to your ghetto princess for me."
"That's racist!" Max jested from the opposite path.
Mel was many things, but not racist – the ghetto was the nickname for a wealthy estate at the other side of town reserved for wealthy businessmen. Mr Stone was exactly that, but met with opposition as he attempted to move into the estate thirty years ago. There were no laws prohibiting him from doing so, yet ignorant residents joked that the estate was turning into a ghetto.
Needless to say, the nickname caught on quickly, but not without its consequences. As a result, naive little boys from the area, barely separated from their mother's teat, felt that they were welcome among their 'brothers' and foolishly adapted the lingo of their 'home dawgs'.
But again, that was New York in a nutshell. Sweet, beautiful New York: the sullied streets, the homeless citizens, the gun crime. Yes, New York was truly the epitome of fine living.
As she approached East Tremont, she prepared herself for the same encounter she faced every day during her walk home from school.
"Your future, child?" came the familiar withered voice of the East Tremont Gypsy, Magda. In her years of senility, she believed she had the power to predict the future correctly and accurately. However, there was a one question limit; those who desired to humour her had to think carefully.
Mel turned her head and nodded politely. "No thank you, Magda."
"Alright," her derelict skin creased into a smile. "Bless you, child."
Despite remaining in that same location for approximately five years, the government never attempted to re-house her. The poor woman refused to accept charity from passers-by and acted politely to refusals – deeming her as 'safe', which allowed her to roam the streets freely.
Yes, she thought. Beautiful New York.
--
"I ran into Magda again today," Mel announced on the phone, nibbling a donut.
"She's so sweet," cooed Max. "I wish she was my grandma."
"At least that way she'd be kept off the streets. As sweet as she is, it's kind of repetitive giving and receiving the same answers every day."
"She doesn't do that to me."
"...You actually asked her a question!?"
Even behind the phone, she could tell his face was crimson. "So what?"
"Max!" Mel snorted in disbelief, donut crumbs flying free from her lips. "What did you ask?"
"I can't say. It won't come true if I do."
"That's birthday wishes, duh. You don't actually believe it'll come true, do you?"
"Part of it already has."
Mel stopped chewing in astonishment, staring at the phone as if it were a foreign object. However, nothing escaped her ability to find loopholes. "If it's already come true, then you can tell me...right?"
Again, silence fell upon Max's lips. "I'd rather not, I don't want to jinx it."
"Aww, c'mon-"
"...What? ...Yeah...okay Mom. Sorry Mel, my mom needs me down in the basement; see you tomorrow."
"You too," she sighed as he hung up the phone.
The old basement trick – when the going got tough, he hid behind mouldy boxes and old graduation photos in the basement.
What a perfect husband, she thought. I wonder when Denise'll find out how much of a coward he is.
The abandoned teenager threw herself upon her velvet bed sheets, the soft satin caressing her soft arms. Upon the wardrobe opposite her rested her prom dress; hanging like a phantom. Ever since its purchase, she had been entranced by the dress – a complimentary scarlet, strapless dress with frills at the waistline that would make the most spoiled of princesses envious. She felt like an entirely different person wearing said dress – the reason why she felt she had the confidence to ask Jude for a dance. The dress had been her knight in shining armour, giving her the might to carry out the most embarrassing of requests.
If purple was the colour of heroes, why did she feel protected by scarlet?
--
Midnight dawned upon the streets of New York, yet it felt like a winter afternoon. The sky told tales of night, yet the breeze was that of day. Neon signs sent invitations of a fine drink and a 'meeting' with a lady friend, yet these invitations fell on deaf ears as the night life of a dismal Monday was nothing to boast about. The streets were abandoned – nothing stirred without the influence of the weather.
Apart from one thing.
"Have you come to linger, child, or do you have good news?" Magda questioned, staring into the corner behind her.
"Neither – I'm bored," the 'child' emerged from the corner, hands in pocket. "Looks like demons hate Mondays as well."
"Poor child, come sit with me." Magda ushered to a spot beside her on the cold concrete. Without hesitation, he sat down, his scarlet coat flailing. After a long silence, Magda spoke up.
"I'm assuming no news is good news?"
The young man sighed, scratching his head. "Not really. You have no idea how hard it is to find a sealsmith nowadays."
"Then why bother going through the trouble of finding one?"
"One less demon lying around," he answered bluntly.
"Even one that means no harm?"
"Especially them – I ain't babysitting no grannies."
"I can always rely on you to not sugar-coat things, child."
"Hey, I'm just telling it how it is," he joked, leaning against the wall. "So, told any good futures lately?"
"Not exactly. However, one of my predictions will be coming true soon."
"Death? Birth? What?"
"Marriage."
"Hmph, marriage is for idiots."
"Ever the optimist, Dante."
"You said it."
So, what do you think of the first chapter? Right now, Mel has many bad qualities – naive, ignorant, shallow, but I want to show her character development more than anything else. I'm sick of seeing fanfics where the canon character is drastically changed because of an OC, why can't OCs be changed by canon characters?
Have you done your good deed for the day? You can do it by reviewing. I'd hate to sound melodramatic, but reviews of any sort really do make me smile, plus 95% of my motivation comes from reviews, otherwise I become a puddle of emo. Anonymous comments are on, so you don't even need to be logged in/have an account to review. x