iAm A Little Bit Rock n Roll

AMERICA SINGS SEMI-FINALS, HOLLYWOOD…

Melanie Puckett was nervous. She wouldn't let on, but she was nervous. She had made the final four, far better than she had ever thought possible. Even if she went home tonight, she was hearing that she could bank on getting a record deal. At this point, she didn't even care. She missed home. She missed Seattle, rain-soaked, foggy, misty Seattle. She missed her wonderful, sensitive, geeky boyfriend. Most of all, she missed Carly and Sam. She'd stuck around to keep up her end of the deal she'd made Carly, but most of all, she stayed because she didn't want to disappoint her sister. If she left, Sam would know she was weak, and that was something Melanie couldn't stomach.

She was one of four. Thankfully, the one guy she liked – who had become her friend – had also made the cut. If nothing else, she felt more comfortable knowing he'd be there. It had almost come to blows a few nights back when she'd overheard a deep Southern voice fire off an anti-gay slur in her direction. She had no idea how Sam didn't have a longer rap sheet. Melanie wanted to do very bad, very unladylike things to him. She wanted to send him back to Texas with a stiletto boot print in his crotch. She wanted his arrogant ass to hurt. She took her seat. The lights were about to come up. They'd be back from a commercial break in less than two minutes.

BACK IN SEATTLE…

Sam was antsy. Carly knew that she was excited, but this was insane. Sam had turned their sofa into a two-man mosh pit.

"Whoa… Easy there, Tiger…"

"Sorry, Cupcake… I get a little…"

"Worked up? Uh… yeah, knew that, Honey…"

Carly shot Sam a smile. Of course there were no hard feelings. Carly was just yanking her chain a little bit. The more Mama got whipped up, the better it was for Carly later, it seemed. Whipped up Mama Puckett meant less control. The less control Sam was in, the more there was for Carly to take. It was a win-win, so far as Carly Shay was concerned. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Carly had completely forgotten to tell Sam.

"IT'S OPEN!" Carly yelled, not even bothering to get up.

Freddie Benson walked in the front door, walked across the living room, and flounced down at the far end of the sofa, next to Carly, as the show came back from commercial.

"What the fu—?"

"Language, Samantha!"

Freddie chuckled.

"Hey ladies… I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"No, it's mostly been promos… you just missed that country jackass…" Carly loathed him based on what Mel had said, but wouldn't let on that she knew the truth. It would send her Amazon princess into a blind rage and cut Freddie to ribbons. She couldn't hurt them. To her surprise, Sam spoke up. It had to be the nicest thing she'd said in... Carly didn't remember how long.

"Hey, Fredbag, I take back all the crap I ever said to you. This guy's a billion times nubblier than you ever were." This was Sam's idea of a compliment. Carly laughed. Freddie blushed. They were nervous. They knew that votes had been cast and were about to be read.

BACK IN HOLLYWOOD…

"Welcome back everyone… The votes are in and not one, but two of you are going home tonight. We've heard from three of our aspiring stars already. Our final performer tonight – the final performer before we find out just how America voted – holds a special distinction. She has consistently been one of the highest rated performers this season. She's never placed any lower than the top three. Ladies and gentlemen, Melanie Puckett…

The camera panned from the contestants' area to the stage. It was dark, save for a single, solitary spotlight fixed on the mic stand. Melanie's outfit tonight was a hundred percent authentic – it was completely hers. There was nothing theatrical this time, though that wasn't to say that it wasn't painstakingly choreographed on her part. Her outfit was terribly ordinary – she was meant to be America's Every Girl. What looked simple and pointless wasn't intended for the masses. Tonight, she was singing for three out of millions…. Not even. She was singing for two, plus one.

It began simply enough. Five simple notes. Melanie leaned into the microphone, her voice barely above a whisper at first.

"…Come to my window…"

"…crawl inside…"

"…wait by the light of the moon…"

"…Come to my window…"

"…I'll be home soon…"

She was emboldened. Her goal was two-fold. She wanted to piss off the cowboy. She didn't care anymore. If this was to be her final moment, she wanted him to hate her.

Carly and Sam, she knew, were stunned. She hadn't told them a thing, and she knew that her sister was probably going ballistic. Sam would know that Melanie had, for all intents and purposes, painted a bulls-eye on her back with this song choice. It wasn't about winning or losing. It was simply about leaving it all onstage, having no regrets, and making a statement. Mel knew she was accomplishing all of the above tonight – win, lose, or draw.

She let it all out. She wanted to do this song. This was for Carly and Sam. This was her gift to them, if tomorrow wasn't to be.

"…I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath…"

"…I would stand inside my Hell and hold the hand of Death…"

"…you don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache…"

"…you don't know how much I'd give… or how much I can take…"

"…just to reach you…just to reach you… oh… to reach you…"

"…Come to my Window…"

"…crawl inside…"

"…wait by the light of the moon…"

"…Come to my Window…"

"…I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY THINK!..."

"…I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY SAY!..."

"…WHAT DO THEY KNOW ABOUT….THIS LOVE…"

…ANYWAY?..."

BACK IN SEATTLE…

Sam Puckett was weeping. She was bawling like a baby in front of Freddie Benson and she didn't give a good goddamn. Melanie had just performed a gay rights anthem of sorts on national television and she had done it for Sam. She had no idea if Melanie, or for that matter, her newfound career would survive this night. She hoped that her sister's vocals would overshadow the fact that Mythical Melanie wore her heart on her sleeve. Sam knew one thing, though. No one would ever think her sister was weak ever again.