The Music and the Mirror

by glimmergleam

Melanie Segal has the three best friends in the world, a hot new boyfriend, and a loser of a brother who always makes her look good by comparison. She can execute a flawless triple pirouette and body check a woman twice her size on the derby track. So why does it feel like something's wrong? Even in Paradise, coming out is hard to do. [12 Chapters planned]

6. Ch 5: baby, you're on the brink

This chapter approaches an 'M' rating for language, because angry teenagers say "fuck".

Lambswool is used by ballet dancers to stuff and firm their pointe shoes.

A heads up: the upcoming week is very busy for me, so Chapter 6 will be delayed. Thanks in advance for your patience – why not leave a nice review while you wait? ;)

Chapter 5: baby, you're on the brink

Sunday afternoon, May.

The tired but exhilarated students of Paradise Dance Academy's Advanced Co-ed Ballet gathered around Madame Fanny in the balcony changing room. In twenty minutes, they would perform their second matinee and final performance of Coppélia. So far they'd done great. Her parents had attended both of the evening shows, and Charlie (under protest) and Dez (sweetly eager) had made last night's show. Dez couldn't be there today because of morning Frisbee practice, but he'd promised to pick her up afterwards, and maybe catch the final act if they'd let him in. Boo had teased Mel about how much Dez followed her around: Next thing you know, you'll be like me and Carl! (But seriously, if you two want to babysit the Winklevurns soon, that would be really great. When Mom goes into labor, it's going to be crazy at our house.) Mel hadn't really known how to respond to that, which made Boo laugh more.

Madame Fanny was calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is my final speech." She frowned. "Where are Deborah and Matisse?"

"In the bathroom," several people chorused. Before every performance, Deborah had to spend at least ten minutes vomiting from nerves. She never missed a step onstage, though, so everyone got used to it. Matisse always volunteered to make sure she didn't stain her costume.

"Oh, yes, of course. Well! I hope you know how very proud I am of all of you." Madame Fanny clasped her hands together with pleasure. "You've done a simply marvelous job! I am sure Saint-Leon is smiling below the earth in his picturesque Parisian graveyard. Your absolutely final notes: Genevieve, you're still not balanced enough in scene five. Please square your shoulders more on your entrance. You too, Artie. Cozette and Jordan, I want you to hold that final lift a little longer. Don't rush the applause. Sasha, dear, excellent work last night, but remember your facial expressions as well as your arches. Oh! I almost forgot to mention: Truly is recording today's performance for Michelle, so you really must do your very best." A pleased murmur ran through the huddle. "Oh yes, she said she was very sad she couldn't be here, but she simply cannot wait to see the DVD! Now, darlings, it's time to for 'places'. Go, go!" Madame Fanny shooed her pupils down the stairs.

Mel's stomach twisted again, but this time it was the familiar sensation from before every recital. Her nervousness was so routine that it was barely noticeable. The music swelled, and Melane's mind cleared as she stepped out into the dazzling lights.

After the show

The last performance of Coppélia was a triumph. The bows had been taken, the parental bouquets had been distributed, Madame Fanny had been thunderously applauded, and the audience had cleared out of the studio. Now it was all over but Deborah's ritual post-show vomiting. (Her mom, clearly a very patient woman, had parked herself downstairs by the piano with a book and told Deborah to just come down when she was ready.) Tomorrow afternoon's class would be devoted to tearing down the set pieces, packing away the costumes, stacking the chairs, and listening to Madame Fanny's final, final critiques (to remember for next year, she always said). Afterwards the studio would close for a week while Madame Fanny "retired to the fresh mountain air" to celebrate and relax.

Mel was idling by the changing room window. For some reason, she didn't really want to get into her street clothes. Sasha and Ginny and Boo had all left – Boo in a particular hurry, because Mr. Jordan was nervous about leaving his wife home alone so close to her due date. Rae-Rae said goodbye and headed out too. Now it was just Mel and Cozette left (and also Deborah, in the bathroom).

"That was so great!" Cozette was stretching, seemingly for the hell of it. Mel tried not to watch the way her chest moved slightly in the opposite direction of her torso. "I'm going to miss class with all you guys. Does Madame Fanny do summer sessions?"

"Um, well, she didn't last year, because Michelle was away. And this year she's probably going to be busy with building the amphitheater and stuff. But she usually at least has an open studio session once or twice a week, so we can keep in shape."

"Oh, good! I mean, I'm not trying to be Wendy Whelan or anything. Dancing is just a lot of fun." Cozette bent down to touch her toes.

For no reason at all, Mel's shoulder suddenly hurt. It couldn't be from that derby injury, could it? She'd been pretty careful about not overworking it and doing some of that physical therapy stuff from the hospital booklet. "Ow."

Cozette looked up. "What's the matter? Oh no, your poor shoulder. Here, let me see." She walked over to the window and gently placed one hand on Mel's upper back. Mel tried to breathe normally. "Whoa, Mel, you've got a huge knot here! I'm no doctor, but I don't think you really pulled anything. You just need a good massage."

"Oh. Um…"

"Scootch over, l've got this." Cozette sat on the window bench and pushed Mel down in front of her. "Frankie and I learned a whole bunch of things at this yoga retreat in Costa Rica a few years ago. I haven't, like, practiced in a while, but I think I remember the basics."

Oh wow. If this was the basics, Mel couldn't even guess what the advanced stuff was like. Now her whole upper back was on fire, but in a good way. Cozette's hands were soft and cool, in sharp contrast to Mel's skin. She could have fried an egg on practically any body part. Somehow Cozette was working all the tension out of her body, leaving her limp and happy. Now that ballet was over, when they hung out maybe Cozette could teach her how to do this. Give someone a massage, she meant. Probably Mel couldn't exactly make Cozette feel the same way, but…

"Melanie, are you in here?" Dez knocked on the doorframe.

Mel sat up, electrified. He was staring at the two of them. Cozette waved cheerily, but Mel's face burned. "H – hi, Dez."

"I was waiting outside," he mumbled. "When you didn't come down, I thought – never mind. I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready." Dez turned to go, and Mel saw the flowers in his hand.

Mel had never changed so quickly in her life. Cozette was saying something – her tone sounded bright and calm – but Mel couldn't hear her over the roaring in her ears. It wasn't like they'd been caught making out (gulp). Why did she feel so …guilty?

Dez was standing in the nearly empty parking lot with his back to the studio when she exited. He turned around at the sound of her approach. His face made Mel feel even worse.

"I didn't think you were coming," Mel said lamely. "I didn't see you in the audience."

"You knew I was your ride home, though. Whatever. What were you doing with her? That's Corette, right?"

"Cozette. We were just…she was just…it was nothing."

"Yeah, sure."

"I was stiff after the performance. My shoulder, I mean. It was just a massage!" Mel could hear herself pleading.

"Uh huh. Like we didn't watch Pulp Fiction last weekend."

"That was feet. And a guy and a girl, not –"

"So? I saw your face." His expression hardened. "She's your math tutor. Of course. No wonder you care so much about school all of a sudden."

"What? That's not fair! I was almost failing before she started helping!"

"Helping. Right." He snorted.

"Dez – "

Of course, using the poetic timing she was born with, this was the moment Cozette chose to exit the studio. Mel shut her mouth instantly and Dez visibly tensed. Cozette waved to them as she headed over to her mo-ped. "Bye, guys! Great show, Mel! See you on Tuesday!" She rode away, her hair streaming behind her like the girl in those T-Mobile commercials. They watched her go.

Finally, Dez spoke again. "At least you have good taste in chicks. She could be in movies."

"But I –"

"Just shut up for a second." He hesitated, and Mel chewed her lower lip nervously. "Mel, you know I'm crazy about you! When we're not hanging out, I spend half the time thinking about how pretty you are and the other half trying to figure out ways to make you laugh. Shit, the Ultimate guys make fun of me because I talk about you pretty much always." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I never felt like this about a girl before. When you finally agreed to go out with me, it was, like, like getting the chance to play basketball one-on-one with Kobe."

"Oh, Dez…"

"Do you even realize how long it took me to get brave enough to ask you out? I always knew there was something special about you. Maybe it was because you never took any of Charlie's shit, I dunno. I know you don't feel the same. Not as strong, anyway. But before at least, I hoped…I thought I had a chance of changing your mind."

Dez thrust the flowers at her. Mel thought there might be tears in his eyes, but she wasn't sure, because she was starting to cry herself. He kept talking: "You know why I was late today? I was trying to find a florist that was open on Sunday. I had to drive halfway to Monterey. I didn't want to just get you roses from the supermarket." Mel looked closely at the bouquet for the first time. The green tissue paper was wrapped around three or four different kinds of flowers with small white buds. "They were the closest thing I could find to edelweiss. From The Sound of Music. Because you were dressed as Brigitta at the movie truck last spring. That was the day I knew you were the girl I wanted more than anything." Mel hadn't thought her heart could sink any further, but it was suddenly digging a hole through the pavement, on its way to China.

"I knew things were weird lately. I thought it was because of school stuff and ballet. I was hoping after the recital we would hang out more and you could relax. I felt awful that I couldn't be there more for you. I wish I'd known you weren't even, like, thinking about me. If I hadn't walked in just now, would you have even fucking noticed if I didn't show up?"

Mel swallowed hard. "Dez, I'm really, really sorry. I'm an idiot. A selfish jerk. But Cozette and I are just friends, I swear. She doesn't know that I –" Mel slapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

"Know that you what?" Dez stared at her. "C'mon, say it, Mel. We both know what you mean." Her throat was suddenly clogged. Blood rushed to her head so fast she thought she might explode. Her stomach went cold and her hands started to sweat. Were there little birds twittering somewhere nearby? "Fine, you weren't cheating on me. Not technically. Maybe Miss Perfect Hollywood Ballerina is totally innocent here. But you wanted to. You wanted – you want to be dating her, not me."

"Dez, please. I –" Mel hung her head. "Fine," she whispered. "You're right. I've been … been crushing on her for a while. Since before she started tutoring me in math. After you and me started going out."

Dez let out an ugly laugh. "And all your ballet snob friends know, right? I bet you all laugh about me behind my back. I'm not stupid, I know what that Torres girl thinks of me."

"What? No!" But it was true that they all used to make fun of Dez before she'd agreed to go out with him, and Mel had never exactly told Sasha to cut it out with the insults. Mostly because confronting her was usually like facing down a tiger. "They – they can be a little harsh sometimes. I shouldn'tve let them say some stuff. But they know I care about you. That you're sweet and helpful. And, um, hot."

"Not the right kind of hot, though. I'm never going to be that kind of hot. So it doesn't matter about the flowers and the rides and the hooking up. Which I thought you fucking liked."

"I did! I did," Mel protested. "Dez, my friends don't know, I swear. Cozette doesn't know. Nobody does. I mean, I was pretending that I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I was hoping I was wrong. If you hadn't – "

"If I hadn't what? Interrupted your goddamn massage fantasy? Got my heart stomped all over? So you could figure your shit out? Well, glad I could be of service. Call me anytime." Dez stormed over to his car, tried to unlock the door with shaking hands, dropped his keys, and swore violently. Worse than Charlie, which was seriously a skill. All those zombie kills were good for something.

Mel ran to the car door. "Dez, are we – what happens now?"

He glared up at her and started the engine. "What the fuck do you think? We break up. You go off with that chick and star in some lame-ass Bravo movie. Get her to give you a ride home. Now it's her job. Move, will you? I have to go get really fucking drunk." Dez backed out of his parking space and drove away, tires squealing.

Mel sank to her knees, dropping the flowers. The world had gone fuzzy through her tears. She couldn't figure out which was worse: admitting the truth or the look on Dez's face. Everything hurt. She couldn't tell if she was physically shaking or not. Now she couldn't lie to herself anymore. Dez knew, and she knew. He was an amazing boyfriend, but she didn't want a boyfriend. She'd never really wanted one. She hadn't wanted a girlfriend, exactly, but that was probably because she'd never met the right girl. And then Cozette moved to town.

Oh god, how could she face Cozette on Tuesday for tutoring? Or ever again? Mel wanted to disappear into the ground. The wind suddenly changed direction and she could smell the flowers. Dez had gotten her edelweiss. He'd remembered that from over a year ago. She was a piece of crap, a waste of space. A horrible girlfriend and a worse person. She would never be good enough for him. She couldn't be the romantic dream date he wanted for prom, wanted more than Mel ever had. The tiny voice – the only part of her brain not reeling – suddenly pointed out that now she didn't have to find a prom dress, didn't have to worry about what was going to happen at the after-party. Shut up, she told herself fiercely. I'd have figured it out. I'd have made it all work – if I weren't so pathetic.

Mel sat in the parking lot and cried bitterly. Eventually, Deborah's mom drove her home.

Monday afternoon

Mel slouched on her bed with Into the Wild open before her. She couldn't concentrate on the night's reading. Who gave a crap about what some dumb dude might have done in Alaska? Alaska was a million miles away. She was in pain right here, right now. Her parents had been surprised she hadn't wanted to go out for a Coppélia celebration dinner yesterday, but she'd begged off, claiming homework. She hadn't gotten any work done over the weekend because of the performances, so they bought it. Dad had even hugged her, saying he was proud of how responsible she'd gotten. That he knew she would make it to UCLA with Charlie. That had only made her think of Dez, of course, so it was all she could do to keep from crying until she got to her room.

School today was the worst. She'd dragged herself through the hallways like some loser zombie. If she had had the energy to care, Mel could have been annoyed that none of her friends had picked up that anything was wrong. But Sasha and Roman had had some sort of fight yesterday too, and Ginny was freaking out about her upcoming dress rehearsals, and Boo's mom actually did have a false labor scare last night. So Mel's zombieness had been unnoticed. (And safe.) Besides, what could she say? That she'd been spending months fantasizing about a girl while dating one of the cutest guys in Paradise? And to make it worse, it wasn't just any girl, it was Cozette. Ginny was going to flip out when she found out. If she found out. Maybe Mel didn't have to tell anyone about the Cozette part. Cozette didn't know, and Dez wouldn't tell anyone, right? It probably hurt his pride. If she had liked another guy…

There was a loud slam downstairs as someone came in from outside. Angry footsteps were pounding up the stairs. Oh, shit. Of course Charlie knew. He and Dez had been basically inseparable since Dez's family moved here years ago. God, would Dez have told him everything?

Charlie burst into her bedroom and threw his backpack at her. Mel didn't think she'd ever seen him so angry before. He came over and hit her hard in the arm. "What the shit is wrong with you, you little turd? What the fuck did you do to make him break up with you? That guy has been mooning over your pathetic ass forever. I had to listen to him go on about you every goddamn day for, like, two years! There is no way he dumped you for some stupid girl thing. You must be actually retarded."

Mel cowered against her bed's headboard, and Charlie punched her again, in the gut. It hurt a lot, but she was already hurting, what difference did it make. "So did you cheat on him? You better not have fucking cheated on him. You were lucky Dez even paid attention to you. Did you know that like six girls on the Frisbee team would have slept with him on the spot if he'd asked? If he'd even looked at them? But no, it was always you, you moron. You shitstain."

For once in her life, Melanie had no insults to respond with. Or any defense, really. She had cheated on Dez, emotionally. She was an awful human being and deserved to be beaten up. Dez wouldn't yell at her like this, so somebody had to. Charlie was defending his best friend like the Bro Code demanded. "Jesus Christ, what's the matter with you? You're not even yelling back?"

Mel's eyes started welling up. At this rate, her tear ducts would break from overuse. "I know I'm an asshole. It's my fault." But Charlie didn't know about Cozette. He didn't know. Dez had given her – or maybe himself – that much privacy.

"Of course it is, you little – "

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I fucked up. I ruined everything. I know that. Believe me, I know. And I can't fix it. I can't take it back. I can't –" She burst into angry, ugly sobs.

Charlie didn't say anything for a minute. Mel looked up at him in surprise through her tears and saw the same look on his face. He looked like, well, like she had actually hit him, only more confused. Mel hadn't cried in front of Charlie since she was eight and he'd kicked over the Lego fantasy doll house she had been building with Ginny. She kept gulping. She couldn't stop. Finally Charlie stopped staring at her and unclenched his fists. "Whatever. I don't fucking get girls. And don't you even think about asking me for rides. Or going anywhere near him. Not 'til he's ready to hear your sorry ass grovel."

Charlie picked up his bag and left, slamming the door behind him. Mel threw herself across the bed and sobbed harder. She was going to dissolve into a puddle and disappear. That would be good. Anything would be better than this.

Tuesday lunch

Everything continued to suck. Dinner last night was horrible, full of Charlie's glares and angry muttering. Her parents had assumed it was another dumb fight over nothing and had talked at Melanie forever about college visits this summer. She just stared over their heads at the black-and-white family portrait hanging on the wall, taken at a professional studio in Las Virtudes when she was six and Charlie was seven. They were friends then. If only she could wish herself back into that picture, like in Blue's Clues. Kid Melanie was fun and never bored or unhappy or confused or a jerk girlfriend to an amazing guy…

This morning, Charlie had purposely left the house so early that their mom had to drive Mel to school on her way to the office, talking 30 miles an hour on her cell phone but only driving at 15 miles per hour. Mel got there midway through second period. Too scared to face Cozette for lunch tutoring, she sent her a text ten minutes beforehand to cancel and then ran to the cafeteria to sit with her friends and their boyfriends.

They were clearly surprised to see her. "Hey, Mel," Ginny said. "It's Tuesday, right? Don't you have tutoring with Cozette?"

Mel didn't respond, just sat down and took out her lunch. There was an awkward silence. Then Carl ventured, "So, uh, how's Dez?" Mel burst into tears. Again. It was super embarrassing, but she couldn't help it.

The other three girls looked at each other, and then turned to the boys. "Beat it!" Sasha said, and gave Roman a shove. He got up immediately and decamped for the basketball team's table.

"Oh no – I'm so sorry!" Carl stammered. "Mel, I didn't mean – "

"Not now! Just go!" hissed Boo. Her boyfriend nodded and disappeared as well. Ginny switched chairs to sit next to Mel and grabbed her hands. That was sweet, but it meant she couldn't wipe the mix of tears and snot that was flowing down her face. Gross. Boo kept pulling tissues out of her bag. They waited for Mel to explain.

But she couldn't. She couldn't. The best she could do was to hiccup over and over and stammer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. It's not him; it's all my fault!"

"It is not your fault, that boy is an oaf. A cretin," Sasha muttered. "I knew he wasn't smart enough for you."

"You're too good for him!" Ginny said.

"I'm not!" Melanie wailed. "I'm not, I'm terrible, he didn't deserve me…" She was a mess, and probably all the other tables were staring. Thank God the Frisbee team ate lunch over by the gym.

Finally, Sasha said, "What do you have next period, US History? Skip it. We'll all ditch class – cramps – and meet out on the back lawn." Boo and Ginny nodded.

"Thank you," Mel whispered.

"Shut up," Sasha said. "Like we'd let you face Linehan like this."

7th period was spent lying on the grass out behind the baseball field. Sasha jacked up the volume on her iPhone as loud as it would go and they ran through her playlists – admittedly short on break-up songs, but that was OK. Mel stared up at the sky and emptied her brain. She thought about movies and dumb TV shows. Didn't think about Dez. Didn't think about how the other girls would recoil if they knew what was wrong with her. She was perverted. She was the worst. It definitely wasn't normal. She was not normal…then again, Abby and Sam didn't care about being normal. Cozette didn't care. Neil Patrick Harris was gay, and everyone loved him. So was Anderson Cooper. And, like, half of the rest of the people on television, if you believed Sarah McGovern, who hosted the Bible study that her Grandpa used to go to. So did that make it OK?

Probably not. Those famous people didn't live in her town. No one like that lived in Paradise. Hollywood was glamorous, but it was full of crazies and perverts, everyone knew that. So that didn't help at all. Plus Cozette wasn't from here and everyone loved her and nobody knew about modeling camp and it didn't matter because she could leave for one of her fabulous cities with rich friends and go be amazing and make out with girls and give them great massages somewhere else. And bi was different anyway. No one would have to know if Cozette just dated guys until she left town. Mel was stuck here and she didn't like guys – not enough to count, anyway – and it was hopeless. She was going to flunk school and not get into college and end up working at the Mini-Mart and be known as the weird freak outcast forever. Probably she would have to cut all her hair off and wear plaid and quit ballet and play sports. Wait, she already played derby. Did that turn her….different?

No. No it didn't. She hadn't liked boys a lot longer than she'd been skating for the Las Virtudes team. Mel never cared much about the guys in school, not enough to want to flirt with them or make out with them or marry them. She'd definitely thought some guy celebrities were cute: like, Zac Efron was pretty dreamy, but you could only talk about his eyes and his smile for so long. Were there any girl celebrities she'd been in love with? Not really. Not that she could remember right now. If it hadn't been for Dez…

"Um, Mel? The bell just rang. Are you….do you need us to sit with you some more?" Boo was sitting up, looking concerned.

"Oh, what?" Mel's brain felt foggy.

"We'll sit her with as long as she needs!" Sasha said.

"It's just, we have a presentation in English tomorrow and I really need to meet with Tyrone and Max…"

"Boo!" Ginny hissed.

"No, it's fine," Mel said. She sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She had stopped crying, at least. "I'm OK. I'm going to stay out here. But you should go, really."

"Are you sure? Because I can ask them to come over to my house tonight."

"Go," Mel said firmly. "Please."

They all hugged her and left. She lay back down and watched the sky some more. It was weird to remember that even though it looked like the clouds were moving, it was really the planet that was spinning slowly. Yeah, the wind might be pushing them (if they moved fast), but mostly the clouds stood still as the world changed around them. Mel felt as insubstantial and pointless as a cloud. She was wispy and fragile and lost while everything else moved out of her reach.

Tuesday afternoon.

Mel blinked and looked around. Somehow she was standing in front of the Oyster Bar. The outside picnic tables were empty. It must be past the lunch crowd and before the post- school afternoon hangout. Wait, what time was it? Mel checked her phone. 15 minutes until school got out. At some point she had gotten sick of clouds and gotten up and started walking. And here she was. Thank god there wasn't ballet today. She didn't have the discipline to pay attention. And probably by cutting class she had just screwed over her grades for the week. Whatever.

Mel slid down the side of the building. Suddenly she was hungry. She had forgotten to eat all day. Had she put her lunch back in her backpack? She couldn't remember. Mel opened it to find a note sitting on top of her binders, frowned and pulled it out. It was in Sasha's handwriting; she must have slipped it in while Mel was zombie-ing again. The note had a phone number and said above it – call her. She's nuts but she listens. Mel didn't recognize the number.

Who…? Oh, Michelle. Of course. Sasha had never really talked about it, but the other girls knew she'd spent a couple of nights in Madame Fanny's guesthouse when everything was awful, pre-move. And Ginny had said Michelle gave great audition advice. Maybe she could teach Mel how to play the role of being different. Michelle definitely knew about being a weirdo in Paradise. Maybe she knew how to be normal, too.

Mel took a deep breath and called her former dance teacher's cell phone. It rang four times before Michelle picked up.

"Hello? If this is Steve Only-Two-Shots-I-Swear, no thank you. Not again. I left your vest on the stairwell. You can take your – "

"Michelle. Michelle! It's Melanie."

"Wha? Who?" Was she hungover again?

"Melanie Se—"

"Oh, Mel! Uh, sorry about that. Take it from me: never trust a Columbus man with diamond cufflinks."

"OK…" How the heck did Sasha get helpful advice from her? How did you interrupt Michelle to say what you needed?

"So, kiddo, how's life in Nirvana-Town? My mother-in-law still driving you all insane? I hear your Coppélia was killer."

"Yeah, it was good. Um, I had a question."

"Shoot."

"I, uh… well, I was dating this guy..."

"Uh oh. It was that big dude, right? He was eyeing you up like Ross on Rachel before I left."

"Yeah, Dez." Mel swallowed. Tears were the enemy now, this was hard enough. "He…we broke up this weekend. It was my fault…"

"Oh no! Been there. Did you steal too many of his undershirts? They hate that. Especially if you borrow the cologne too, the fancy kind that smells like – "

"No, not that…well, he's really great but I like someone else and he found out and it was really bad." Mel said, all in a rush.

Michelle didn't say anything for a minute. Then: "That sucks. That really sucks. OK. Did you actually cheat on him? Or were you just making sexy-eyes at this other guy at the wrong moment?"

"Well…sort of in the middle. I mean, I didn't actually do anything. But I wanted to. The other person doesn't know. But it was after the ballet, we were upstairs and I didn't-"

"Ballet? Fanny's ballet? Uh oh. You're not into Tim, are you? Because he and Genevieve seemed pretty serious, last time I was there. Artie? It can't be Artie, he's like 12. You're no cradle-robber. Oh, I hope it's not Jordan! Sweetie, I know he's an incredible dancer and not too shabby looking for a teenager, but I'm pretty sure that guy would rather make out with lambswool than an actual female…."

Mel couldn't help laughing in spite of everything. "No, no! Not Jordan, god. Um…it's not any of them."

"Really? I'm running out of dudes here."

"It's…it's not a guy. It's a girl."

"Oh. Oh." There was another pause. "Well, listen, are you sure? Sure that this is a dealbreaker, I mean. With your boyfriend. Because sometimes when you're young and pretty hormonal you can get really wrapped up in loving a friend: a really intense friendship-crush, but, you know, that doesn't necessarily mean you're into women. Only women. In junior high I was in love with Lisa Harris for a year, but I grew out of it. Sometimes this is just a phase. I definitely like my penises now."

"I…I don't think this is just a phase. I kind of wish it were. But I think…I think I just like girls. I always knew, sort of. I wasn't sure. But now I'm sure."

"OK. Well." Michelle sighed and it sounded like something fell to the ground next to her. "Whoops! I hope that wasn't expensive. Anyway, then ignore everything I just said about a phase. Some straight girls have phases but if this isn't a phase then it just isn't. Yeah, I'm definitely gonna have to super glue it together, there's no way this piece will stick." There were weird noises in the background. "So you're a friend of Ellen, huh? Somehow I don't think It Gets Better is that popular in Paradise."

"What's that?"

"Exactly. Um….I don't know much about how to do this, really. You should probably Google Dan Savage. But it's going to be all right. This is tough. Really tough. But you can handle this. If you can do a sissonne, you can do this. It just takes…you know, practice to get used to it. Like any new dance step. Practice saying to yourself every morning that you are becoming a new, amazing person. Even if you don't know who she looks like yet. You will. She'll be amazing."

"Really?" Mel whispered.

"Really. Can you tell me who you like? It's tough if it's one of your best friends, I hear."

"No, no it's not." That would be awful. "It's Cozette."

Michelle whistled. "Good choice, Melanie! That girl's got serious style. And the gams on her; I know a stumpy Rockette who would kill for them. Listen, so here's what you do–" There was a loud banging sound on her end. "Oh, crap. Crap crap crap. How is it five o'clock already? Mel, I'm sorry, I'm understudying the lead tonight – I have to go – call me next weeeeeek!" And Michelle was gone.

Mel stared at her phone. At least Michelle didn't think she was a perverted loser. Who was Dan Savage? She wasn't sure she could just Google stuff about this: what if someone saw her web history? Oh god, Mom would hit the ceiling if she knew. It was bad enough that Mel didn't like shopping. Dad wouldn't say anything, he would just frown. And quietly disapprove. Which was almost worse. Michelle had been about to give her some advice on how to win over Cozette? Yeah, right. Even if Mel somehow managed to be chill enough around the other girl, enough to ask her out – ha, that was a truly hilarious joke – there was no way they could actually date. They'd have to hide from everyone, and look what happened to Romeo and Juliet. Or Juliet and….were there any other girls in that play? Beside the nurse? All Mel remembered from the Leo DiCaprio version was a lot of gangs, and the scene with the fish tank. Not that there would be gangs attacking them. But it wouldn't be good.

Nothing was good. It was all awful.

Suddenly Jeff Tobey was standing in front of her. "Excuse me, Melanie. But you're blocking the most direct pathway between the outside seating area and the kitchen door. That interrupts the wait staff flow for maximum possible service. Would you please sit at one of our tables instead of on the ground? And are you going to actually order food today?" Blah blah blah blah. Did this geek ever listen to the crap that came out of his mouth? Mel felt bad for his future classmates at Harvard. "You can't stay here; you're in violation of the fire code. And if you're not going to eat, then you should leave. Go call your jock boyfriend and make him drive you home already!"

Blood roared in Melanie's ears and she couldn't see straight. But instead of crying all over Jeff, she stood up without warning and elbowed him in the throat. That was a major foul in roller derby; the team would be pissed at her. Jeff fell back against the nearest picnic table, gasping. Some moms with strollers had just arrived and they were all pointing and whispering. Well, they'd whisper more when they found out the truth. Mel stared at the ground, adrenaline draining. It looked like the Hulk was back, only meaner and sadder. And this time there was no derby to fix it.