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Who I Am

by

M.L. Rice

A Division of Bold Strokes Books

2011

who i am

© 2011 By M.L. Rice. ALL Rights ReseRved.

isBN 13: 978-1-60282-526-0

This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By

Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.

P.o. Box 249

VallEy Falls, ny 12185

FirsT EdiTion: aPril 2011

This is a Work oF FicTion. naMEs, characTErs, PlacEs, and

incidEnTs arE ThE ProducT oF ThE auThor’s iMaGinaTion or

arE usEd FicTiTiously. any rEsEMBlancE To acTual PErsons,

liVinG or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishMEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs

is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.

This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, May noT BE rEProducEd in any

ForM WiThouT PErMission.

cRedits

EdiTors: lynda sandoVal and sTacia sEaMan

ProducTion dEsiGn: susan raMundo

coVEr dEsiGn By shEri (GraPhicarTisT2020@hoTMail.coM)

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my immense gratitude to Radclyffe for

welcoming me to Bold Strokes Books and for giving my little

story a chance. I am extremely thankful to my editor Lynda

Sandoval. Her knowledge and guidance has taught me so much

during this process, and I am forever grateful. Thanks also go to

the rest of the hardworking Bold Strokes Books staff who had a

hand in this publication, such as Cindy Cresap, Stacia Seaman,

Sheri, Kim Baldwin, and Connie Ward. I am in awe of the talent

and dedication of this literary family and am humbled to be

accepted into your ranks.

I couldn’t have done this without the support of my friends and

family. Special thanks go to Mara, who was the second person

to read this story and whose opinion I greatly respect; to Kirk

and Alex, who, as authors themselves, inspired me and gave me

their full support and invaluable advice on publication; and last

but not least, to my mother and my wife. My mom raised me to

be who I am today and taught me to appreciate literature, music,

and the arts. Her support means the world to me and I strive to

make her proud. And finally, I would never have been able to

do this without the love and support of my wife. She believes in

me despite my never-ending crazy adventures and stands by me

through them all. I am constantly amazed at her kindness and

patience and I know that I’m the luckiest person in the world to

be the recipient of her love.

Dedication

For Amy.

Who I Am

chApteR oNe

Most people are relegated early in their school life to a

specific social group. She’s a band nerd, he’s a jock,

she’s a slut, they’re losers in the chess club, etc. Others lead a

more fluid existence, flowing easily between different social

interactions and freely sampling from the buffet of cliques that are

to be found in every high school in America. They are respected

by all and rejected by none because they don’t judge people or

try to pigeonhole a person based on their interests or the way they

dress. These are the special few who have confidence in who they

are, who become successful in almost everything they try, and

who will always have the kind of friends that will have their back

through any ordeal.

I am not one of these people.

My name is Devin Kelly, and where do I belong? I’m a

computer geek, band nerd, bookworm, and loner. I think that

about covers it. No, I was never in the chess club. I suck at chess.

As a child my days were usually spent alone, taking solace in the

faraway lands and people that I found in my books, playing video

games, or practicing my beloved trumpet. Books and games let

• 7 •

m.L. RIce

me escape my dull existence, and band was a great place to meet

like-minded people at every new school I was forced to attend.

I spent my early years being moved from town to town,

never laying down roots, never having close friends, and

never being able to discover who I really was. My father was a

communications officer in the United States Air Force and my

former homes included bases in England, Florida, Texas, and

Kansas. My mother ran her own mail-order, and later, Internet-

based business from home. She made kitschy, god-awful Air

Force paraphernalia like hand-knit sweaters, coasters, picture

frames, and pillow covers that she marketed to the mothers

and girlfriends of Air Force personnel. This allowed her to be a

stay-at-home mom while also generating income wherever we

happened to be living at any given time.

As we moved from base to base I sometimes had a few

friends, but military brats don’t tend to keep them. We have

classmates and people to hang out with, but lasting friendships

are rare. Sooner or later one of your parents is transferred to

another part of the world. We hug and cry and promise to write

every chance we get, but after the first couple of months the texts

and e-mails slow and then stop completely as new friends are

made in new schools and the old are forgotten.

Living this nomadic life was hard on all of us, but my parents

knew that it was hardest on me. They always encouraged me to

be more outgoing so that I could at least have fun wherever I

was, but I never fit in with the more popular girls, and the so-

called friends I did have were merely acquaintances. The only

real friendship I ever formed during those years was with Jeremy

Hancock. His mother and father were officers stationed together

• 8 •

Who I Am

in England, and he and I were both in the seventh grade. Nerdy

little Jeremy used to love coming over to my house after school

to listen to Broadway soundtracks, and we’d act out the musical

numbers. He would be Guinevere and I would be Lancelot (my

voice was lower) from Camelot, or we would prance around and

vogue as Velma and Roxie in Chicago. I’ve often wondered how

he fared in a strict military household being the gentle spirit that

he was. I was his only friend and I really thought that he would be

the one person I would always keep in contact with, but as with

every other friend I’d had in my life, Jeremy faded from my radar

after my family’s move to Texas and then Kansas.

This is how I spent my childhood. Moving around, wondering

if I would meet someone nice at every new school, escaping

into fiction and fantasy, and wondering when I would be able to

stop, take a deep breath, and discover myself, the real world, and

possibly another person to share it with me.

v

During the early part of the hot Kansas summer between my

junior and senior years of high school, my father had a massive

heart attack while working on an overdue project at the base and

died. It was sudden, and it left my mother crushed and terrified.

I, on the other hand, had a strangely cold reaction to his death.

We had never been particularly close. He treated me more like

an enlisted subordinate than a cherished daughter. He and my

mother had been drifting apart as well. They had tried hiding it

from me, but no amount of pillows over one’s head or blaring

radios can block out that kind of fighting.

• 9 •

m.L. RIce

His funeral was conducted with the appropriate pomp and

circumstance. A military detail performed a three-volley salute

and, as I already knew how to play the trumpet, I performed Taps

myself—a daughter’s last gift to her father. I did shed tears for

him, but Mom was much worse off. I think, however, that she

was more worried about our future and how we were going to

survive than upset about losing the man that she had once loved.

After his death she couldn’t bear to keep up her Air Force crafts

business, and living on the base was no longer an option, so there

was only one viable thing for her to do.

We loaded our meager possessions into our ancient and not

very reliable Ford pickup and drove to Los Angeles to be near my

mother’s sister and brother-in-law. My aunt worked as a librarian

in Beverly Hills and she and my uncle lived in a quaint 1930s

duplex in a nearby section of Los Angeles. They were happy to

put us up for a while, but after a few weeks of imposition we

found a small and decidedly un-chic two-bedroom apartment on

the very edge of Beverly Hills itself that we could only afford

because of my father’s life insurance. We settled in quickly, and

Mom traded in the old Ford for a used Toyota Corolla that she

could drive to her new full-time job at the library where her sister

worked. It was a sad, dreary summer for us both, and we never let

ourselves experience the famous hustle and glamour of Southern

California life.

We never went out; evenings were spent in silence watching

television together or reading books, and during the day I had

nothing to do but stare out of my bedroom window at the street

beyond, keeping track of time by the predictable habits of the

homeless man on the corner. I often remained lost in thought,

• 10 •

Who I Am

willing myself to not become overly despondent, if only for my

mother’s sake.

After weeks of solitary apathy and boredom, the day finally

arrived that every student dreams about from the time they start

school. Well, every student except me. It was time to start my

senior year of high school.

v

I am not the kind of person to easily adapt to new situations

or comfortably interact with different kinds of people. What I

found on my first day at a non-military-run school, in intimidating

Beverly Hills no less, was an abundance of both. It was like

nothing I had ever experienced. My ride to school on the public

bus was in sharp contrast to the shiny cars being parked by

all of the other students. Music blasted constantly in the halls,

students wore designer label clothes, and if I had a dollar for

every disgusted look thrown my way by gorgeous, bleach-blond,

manicured supermodel wannabes, I’d have left school forever

to buy my own island. The fact that I was an outsider wouldn’t

have been more obvious if “Loser” had been tattooed onto my

forehead.

I walked, no, struggled through the mass of humanity,

glancing at the numbers on the lockers, cross-checking them with

the one written on the newly printed class schedule that had been

mailed to our apartment, and finally reached the one assigned

to me. I put away the books and folders I didn’t need that day,

and as I closed the door I noticed a tall, handsome, and athletic

guy with shaggy dark blond hair leaning against the locker next

• 11 •

m.L. RIce

to mine. He wore stylishly tattered khaki shorts, flip-flops, and

an Ed Hardy T-shirt and he was looking at me with a smirk that

immediately turned my stomach.

“Um. Excuse me,” I stammered, looking at the ground as I

tried to find an opening in the crowd to edge my way past him.

“What in the hell are you wearing?” he asked with a slight

laugh.

“What?” I asked, obviously confused.

“I said, what in the hell are you wearing? Is that your

grandmother’s shirt? You look like you just helped milk cows or

something. Jesus, you look like hell!”

My face immediately flushed red hot and I tried to make my

escape, but the throng of students kept me pinned to the spot.

He continued, “You’re new here, aren’t you? I would have

recognized an ugly-ass frizzy ponytail like that from a mile away

if I had seen you before. Haven’t you ever heard of a hair salon?

It wouldn’t help you much, but you could at least try. You’re

some scary shit!”

I had no idea why he was doing this to me and, as usually

happens in these situations, I couldn’t think of a single witty thing

to say in my defense so I just stood there humiliated, angry, and

on the verge of tears.

“And come on,” he continued, “this is Southern California.

It’s ninety degrees outside. Why in the hell are you wearing

corduroy pants anyway? You couldn’t be more of a train wreck if

you were paid to look like the biggest nerd on the planet.”

“Shut up, Jason!” a girl’s voice said from behind me. “Leave

her alone. You’re such a dick.”

“But look at her, Mel! Have you ever seen anything like

• 12 •

Who I Am

it in your life?” He laughed as he plucked at the collar of my

obviously uncool denim shirt. I knocked his hand away, but he

just proceeded to look at his fingertips as if he had gotten cow

snot on them.

“I said leave her alone or I’m telling Mom where you hide

your pot.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I damn sure would, so piss off!”

My tormentor, who I now knew as Jason, glared down at me

for a few more seconds, taking his time, and then sauntered off

and around the corner giving high fives to other alpha male types

on the way.

My head hung in abashed shame and I was unable to look

at who had come to my rescue, but a hand gently grasped my

shoulder and turned me around as a voice asked kindly, “Are you

okay?”

Tears stung my eyes and clouded my vision, but through

them I saw Melanie for the first time.

My heart did a funny skip thing that it had never done before

and it seemed like there was a rock in my throat that had nothing

at all to do with wanting to cry. Whatever I had been planning to

say to my savior was gone in an instant. I didn’t know what was

happening, but I felt that if I tried looking away from her, my

eyes would pluck themselves out of my head in their rebellion to

keep the contact.

What I saw was a beautiful girl my age, only a couple of

inches taller than my own 5′5″ height, with round cheekbones,

freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a crooked smile that

showed genuine concern. Her medium-length brown hair flipped

• 13 •

m.L. RIce

outward at the top of her shoulders. As I took in her hair, I couldn’t

help but notice the slightly freckled chest between the top buttons

of her shirt.

She smiled sympathetically at me, mistaking my silence for

shyness or embarrassment—both of which applied, of course,

but weren’t currently the main reason. I noticed that her smile

crinkled her nose in a way that turned my insides into melted

butter.

Realizing I was staring like an idiot, I blurted out, “Devin!”

a bit more loudly than necessary, even against the noise of the

hallway.

She looked confused “No…I’m Melanie. Melanie Parker.

And you are?”

I closed my eyes as the humiliation and fire in my cheeks

really set in. “Devin,” I said quietly. “Devin Kelly. Thank you for

your help with…um…Jason, I guess?”

Melanie laughed, and her melodious voice soothed my

frayed nerves. “Oh yes. Sorry about him.” She glowered and

continued, “That’s my asshole brother. He thinks he’s the hottest

thing to ever live and he wants to make sure that everyone knows

it. I can’t stand him. He’s always putting people down and just

being…well…a complete asshole. It’s a word that’s used to

describe him quite often, actually. Mostly by me. He could find

some way to insult Angelina Jolie if she was stark naked in the

kitchen baking him a birthday cake. Don’t take it personally.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, okay. Easier said.”

Melanie sighed. “I know, but come on. I’ll make it up to

you for our family’s honor.” She stood up straight, gave a funny

little salute, then relaxed and smiled, wrinkling her nose in that

fascinating way. “You’re obviously new here and I shall take it

• 14 •

Who I Am

upon myself to escort you through these treacherous halls to your

first class. So, where are we going?”

Despite the stress from Jason’s bullying, I couldn’t help but

smile. “Band. I’m a trumpet player.”

“Nice to meet you, Trumpet. I’m a French horn.” She winked

at me, put her arm in mine, and led me to the band hall. I tried my

best to hide the fact that I was inexplicably trembling.

v

It turned out that not only did we have band together, but

also English, Biology, Economics, and lunch. This being the case,

Melanie made sure to find a seat next to me in each class. She

apparently knew almost everyone in the school and, amazingly,

was on friendly terms with all of them. Not two minutes would go

by before someone would come up to her to ask how her summer

went or what she had been up to in general. When a boy dressed

all in black wearing dark eye makeup approached her, he asked if

they were still going to be getting a group together to go to a Goth

gathering called “Bat’s Day” at Disneyland. During Economics

a very girly cheerleader came over to tell her that a new surf

shop that had opened in Venice Beach was having a huge end-of-

summer sale. Then, at the end of band rehearsal, she told a giant

circle of her friends about the best performances she had seen

during that summer’s Drum Corps International competition. She

seemed to be some sort of social chameleon and apparently a

brilliant student, from what I observed in class. I envied her.

I told myself that she only sat by me because she felt bad

about the way her brother had treated me that morning. I was

probably in danger of becoming a pity friend, but if that was the

• 15 •

m.L. RIce

case I didn’t really mind. Being someone’s friend of any sort was

preferable to my usual loneliness, especially in such a strange

new environment.

During all of her social interactions I just sat in silent awe

at the ease with which she got along with the diverse population.

Even when an effeminate and well-dressed boy from the drama

club came by to ask her if she was able to see any plays over the

summer, she made sure to tell him to check out the new football

captain because he was the big, manly type that he was always

ogling. Melanie seemed to have no qualms about the way anyone

lived their lives, and people obviously loved her for it. This

brought me hope. Maybe I had finally found someone who would

never have “obligation” friends, someone who might truly enjoy

me for my true self.

After my first day of school ended, Melanie actually invited

me back to her house to help her work on a new project she was

spearheading for the group Student Activists for Environmental

Protection. An organization she founded and which, by the way,

has now spread to twelve states. My only plans had been to ride

the bus home, make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and play

an outdated video game on my ancient computer.

I asked nervously, “Will your brother be there?”

Melanie looked embarrassed and said, “I really hate that

he was your introduction to this school. No, he won’t be there.

And please don’t worry about him. He won’t bother you again, I

promise. He finds someone new to pick on every day.”

I smiled. “Yes, then.”

v

• 16 •

Who I Am

We pulled up to Melanie’s house in her red Toyota Prius

and my first impression was…perfection. The house wasn’t the

largest I had ever seen, but it just oozed an attitude of money. It

was a two-story Spanish style with an ornately carved wooden

door that looked as if it could have been rescued from an old

mission. The immaculate front lawn had perfect green grass,

gorgeous rosebushes along the walls, and several artistic lawn

lamps lining the cobblestone walkway to the front door. As we

got out of the car I noticed the hired gardener watering the last

of the rosebushes. I assumed that with their obvious wealth they

would also have a housekeeper…and I was right.

Melanie beckoned me to follow, and when we reached the

front door it opened just as she was about to put her hand on the

doorknob. A small Hispanic woman in her early sixties wearing

stylish black sandals, khaki pants, and a red apron over a black

shirt opened the door and welcomed us home from school.

“Devin, this is Esmerelda. Esmerelda, Devin.”

“Hey.” I said.

She smiled and offered her hand, which I took shyly. “Muy

encantada.”

Melanie continued, “Esmerelda has been with our family

since my brother and I were born. She’s like a mother to me,

so…”

Esmerelda cut her off and said in a thick accent, “So that

means she has to do what I tell her. Isn’t that right, mija?”

Melanie looked demure, curtsied, and replied, “Yes ma’am.

I obey your every command.”

Esmerelda wagged an admonishing finger at Melanie and

then squinted at me conspiratorially, “She pretends to be perfect

• 17 •

m.L. RIce

and wonderful, but you do not have to clean that porquería that

she calls a bedroom.”

“That’s true,” I replied, “but I do have to clean the pigsty

that I call a bedroom, so I feel your pain.”

Esmerelda laughed and seemed impressed that I understood

a bit of Spanish. “You have a clever one here, hija.” She

then leaned in toward Melanie and said behind her hand in a

suspicious stage whisper, “Keep an eye on her!” She winked and

then announced that she was off to the kitchen to make peanut

butter cookies.

I followed Melanie on a tour of the house, first stopping in

her upstairs bedroom to drop off our school bags. I was slightly

shocked when I saw her bed and found myself wondering what

she wore when she slept. Where had that come from? Pulling my

thoughts back to Earth I looked around and, to my delight, saw

that her walls weren’t covered with the usual teenager posters of

hot young rock stars, but with signed pictures of theater actors,

landscape and architecture photographs from around the world,

and a harp seal poster from Greenpeace.

We went back downstairs and wound through the living room,

which included the largest flat screen TV I had ever seen in my

life, and out to the backyard. If the front yard was a vision, it was

nothing compared to this. Every inch of the area was beautifully

landscaped, an outdoor bar stood against a wall, chimineas were

placed around a small seating area, and expensive-looking lawn

furniture was placed in perfect symmetry along the edge of a

sparkling blue swimming pool. The pool itself looked as if it

belonged to a movie star, complete with a diving board, hot tub,

and running waterfall from a wall of volcanic rocks on the far

side. To the left of the pool was a small cabana that I assumed was

• 18 •

Who I Am

for guests…except for the fact that through one of the windows I

could see a poster of a slutty-looking model sprawled topless on

the hood of a Ferrari.

Following my gaze Melanie said, “It used to be for guests,

but my asshole brother decided that he was too cool to live in the

main house with the rest of the family, so he chose to live in the

cabana instead. How Mom doesn’t smell the pot smoke from in

there I’ll never know. Maybe she does and just doesn’t care.”

“Oh…sorry, I guess,” I replied uncomfortably.

“We’ve since turned his old bedroom into a guest room

slash office. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He has started

staying with a stoner college friend who has his own apartment.

We haven’t seen him at home in days.”

“So you and your brother are both seniors in school, but you

don’t look anything alike. Did one of you start school early?” I

asked, trying to steer my thoughts away from having another run

in with Jason if he decided to come home while I was there.

“We’re fraternal twins, so we’re the same age. I look like my

dad and he looks like my mom. I’ve always wanted her blond hair,

but he got it instead.” Melanie paused. “But I got the brains!”

“I think your hair is wonderful! Better than this dull blond

frizz ball I have. I don’t wear it in a ponytail every day just

because I’m lazy. I do it because it’s the only thing that keeps it

from going Janis Joplin all over the place. I’ve been called ‘Afro-

head’ way too many times to count.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to have those curls. Mine is so…

plain.”

I blushed at the compliment and decided to change the

subject. I still wasn’t used to the whole “someone being nice to

me” thing.

• 19 •

m.L. RIce

“So, what do your parents do, exactly?”

“Well, Dad is a plastic surgeon and Mom works for a talent

agency that casts commercials. Mostly kid actors.” Seeing the

wide-eyed look on my face, she continued, “I know, I know, we

couldn’t be more stereotypically Beverly Hills if we actually had

our own TV show. Hollywood-type jobs for the parental units,

children that hate each other, and a housekeeper who is more of

a mother than the real thing.” She trailed off a bit at the end and

I could see that this was a not a topic she enjoyed discussing.

However perfect Melanie seemed, her family life didn’t seem to

be so.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I lightened the mood

with, “Well, I think your home is beautiful and I will be really

disappointed if I’m never able to swim in that pool.”

She smiled, grabbed my hand— what was that weird heart

skip thing? —and pulled me back into the house. We went running

through the massive kitchen, earning several angry-sounding

threats from Esmerelda in Spanish, and ended up in a room that

made my jaw drop to the floor. It wasn’t overly large and was

furnished with dark leather armchairs and an antique coffee table

in front of a magnificent fireplace. Every wall was covered from

corner to corner with books on dark mahogany shelves, more

books than I had ever seen in any one place that wasn’t an actual

public or school library. The amazed look on my face seemed to

brighten Melanie considerably.

“Just as I suspected. You like all things literary.”

“Um, yeah. You could say that.” My eyes continued to follow

the lines of books around the room.

“What are your favorites?”

• 20 •

Who I Am

I pulled my gaze from the shelves to look into Melanie’s

chocolate brown eyes and found myself noticing the way her red

lips formed an interesting natural pucker. “What?” I said a bit too

loudly for the second time that day.

Her nose crinkled as she flashed her lopsided smile and

poked me gently in the side. “Books, Devin. What are your

favorite books?”

“Oh…uh…I know it’s lame, but I can’t get over the Harry

Potter series. I just love them. I also like Jane Austen, biographies,

nonfiction history books, and anything having to do with naval or

seafaring stuff.”

Melanie looked surprised for some reason and I figured

that I had come out as a Grade A Nerd far too early. I could feel

my ears getting hot with embarrassment, and I tried to think of

something else to say that would make me seem cooler, but her

look of surprise morphed into one of excitement.

“You like exactly the kind of books I like!” she exclaimed,

bouncing up and down on her toes. “Well, except for the seafaring

stuff, I don’t know any of that. But I love the fantasy and historical

genres. Which is your favorite Harry Potter?”

“It used to be Half-Blood Prince, but it just has to be Deathly

Hallows now.”

“Me too! What about the Thursday Next series by Jasper

Fforde? Have you read those?”

“No, I’ve never heard of them.”

Melanie feigned disapproval and shock, striding to the

farthest bookshelf. She pulled The Eyre Affair from its place,

marched back to me with her chin in the air, and placed the book

firmly in my hands.

• 21 •

m.L. RIce

“You will read this immediately or the diving board is off-

limits!”

I laughed. “I promise, it’s at the top of my list.”

v

Melanie refused to let me take the bus home and dropped

me off at my apartment at nine o’clock. I had tried to persuade

her otherwise, not only because I didn’t want her to go to the

trouble, but because I was embarrassed about where I lived. Her

house was a castle compared to our nine-hundred-square foot

apartment. Not everything in Beverly Hills is a mansion. When

we pulled up to the entrance I snuck a glance in her direction to

gauge her reaction to my place, but she just continued to talk

excitedly about the project we had worked on that evening to

petition the Beverly Hills school board to place recycling bins in

every classroom in the city.

At a lull in her enthusiasm, she glanced over at me. “Anyway,

I’ll stop rambling now. Thanks for helping with the project.”

I opened the door and stepped out. “No problem. Thanks for

the ride.” For everything, I thought.

“See you at school?”

“Sure.”

She waited at the curb until I had entered my building. I

waved from the window and felt a strange pang of loss as she

drove off. It had been a very weird day for me, filled with lows

and some surprising highs.

“Hi, Mom, I’m home.”

I got no reply as I walked in and found my mom asleep on

the couch, the television showing a rerun of an E.R. episode, and

• 22 •

Who I Am

several used Kleenex strewn about on the coffee table. I spread

a blanket over her, turned off the TV, walked to my room, and

closed the door behind me.

As I sat down on my bed, the only thing going through my

mind was a replay of the day’s events and Melanie. She made me

feel comfortable with her when I had never really been so with

anyone else. All of this, and I had known her for a mere thirteen

hours. What in the world was up with me?

• 23 •

• 24 •

Who I Am

chApteR tWo

My second day at school was still terrifying, but with

Melanie there to acclimate me to the unfamiliar new

society, I had hope the day would go more smoothly. Before I

met up with her in band, I had to go to my locker to retrieve my

books. Not wanting to repeat the tormenting scene with Jason,

I peeked around the corner of the hall to see if he was around. I

saw him closing his locker and waited until he had strutted away

before making my way over. As I traversed the crowded corridor,

irritation stole over me. Just my luck to get a locker right next

to the biggest asshole in the whole school. Then again, without

that horrible exchange, I wouldn’t have met Melanie. Well, we

did have a lot of classes and band together, but who knows if she

would have even noticed me otherwise. In my experience, that

answer was no. I was either invisible or someone who existed

solely to be taunted.

Students were already filing out of the back doors toward the

marching practice field when I arrived in the band hall. I dumped

my backpack and followed them, trumpet in hand. I hadn’t gone

far when Melanie, breathless, ran up and put her hand on my

shoulder.

• 25 •

m.L. RIce

“Devin! There you are! Ms. Peacey wants to see you before

you start learning the show.”

Instant nerves. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“Oh no, I think that she just needs to audition you to see

what trumpet part you should be playing.”

“Shit. I didn’t know I’d have to audition. What if I suck?”

“Oh please, I’m sure you’ll do fine. We’ll have chair tests

after marching season anyway. Today is only for which part

you’ll play.”

I tucked my trumpet under my arm and smoothed my damp

palms down the sides of my jeans. “Will you wait for me outside

of her office?”

“Sure!”

“Don’t laugh, though.”

“Devin, I’m not going to laugh. You haven’t heard me play

yet. I’m not what you’d call musically gifted. That and I’m totally

not a jerk.”

I took a deep breath and walked toward the director’s office.

Although I was fairly confident that I wouldn’t make a complete

ass of myself, I didn’t know if the musical talent was better at such

a large public school than I was used to at the military schools.

Here goes nothing, I thought.

Later, as I walked out of the director’s office, Ms. Peacey

beaming by my side, I saw Melanie and a few other band members

standing outside. They looked…dumbfounded, and the smile that

had been on my face faltered.

“What?” I asked nervously. I knew that they had all heard

me play through the door, and although it felt like I had nailed the

short audition piece, I was suddenly worried that my definition

• 26 •

Who I Am

of good playing might be drastically different from what these

students were used to.

Melanie broke into a wide grin and began applauding,

starting a chain reaction with the other students around her. I

grinned bashfully, but a weight lifted off of my shoulders and I

breathed a sigh of relief.

Melanie slapped me gently on the back and said, “Were you

just messing with me about being nervous?”

“No! I never had anyone to compare myself to other than a

couple of beginners in middle school. Am I okay?”

“Devin, you are for real the best high school player any of us

have ever heard.” At my look of incredulity, she continued, “I’m

serious! I’m going to make you play for me at least once a week

to make sure you practice.”

“Thanks, Mom. ” I couldn’t believe that I apparently had

talent and was thrilled my new friend seemed so interested. My

chest filled with pride for the first time in my life. I could get used

to that.

After my audition we walked outside to go to the practice

field. I stepped onto the grass and felt a rush of happiness. The

other trumpet players welcomed me warmly, as they had the day

before, and I took my place with the students who were also

playing the first part. I turned to look back at the other members

of the band and saw Melanie wink at me from a curved line of

mellophones near the 40 yard line. I smiled back and turned to

face the sideline where the assistant director was pointing out the

stopping point of the next set to our section leader. The weather

was gorgeous and a light breeze blew across the field, stirring

up the refreshing scent of damp grass. I nodded to myself in a

• 27 •

m.L. RIce

satisfied way and knew that things were going to turn out better

than I could have imagined.

My first day of band had consisted of filling out forms and

getting sized for my uniform. Now that the real rehearsal was

starting, I realized the other band students had been rehearsing

the music and learning marching fundamentals for two weeks

before I had come to school. Somehow I had never been

informed about “summer band” even though I had lived in Los

Angeles for at least a month prior. Luckily for me, however, I

pick up marching very quickly, probably because of growing

up watching military drills and parades, and I can remember

music almost perfectly after listening to it only once or twice. A

seedling of hope sprouted inside me. I had a friend and a place to

belong, and it was only the second day of school. Now, if only I

could avoid Jason, senior year might not be so bad…

v

It was a beautiful day in late September and the sun beat down

warmly on my shoulders. The soothing sound of breaking waves

made me temporarily forget that I was holding a very smelly

garbage bag full of everything from tiny bits of unidentifiable

plastic to old diapers to sticky soda cans. Melanie had signed

up the S.A.E.P. to help out with Heal the Bay’s annual Coastal

Cleanup Day and we, along with fellow members Katherine,

Christina, Jody, Nicholas, and Phillip, were at the end of our two-

hour journey of sifting through the sand next to the Santa Monica

Pier. Turning in the now-full bags made us realize how much

crap was actually polluting our coastlines, and we all felt a sense

of accomplishment for doing some good.

• 28 •

Who I Am

My first month and a half since school started had been just

as wonderful as I had hoped, with new experiences almost every

day. Even performing this small act of civic duty introduced

me to the ocean for the first time, and we had decided that as a

reward to ourselves we would go body-boarding while we were

all together at the beach.

“Come on, Dev. It’s not that cold!” Melanie splashed as I

gasped when the waves washed over my feet.

All of our friends were already out past the surf waiting to

catch the perfect wave, but even though I love being in the water,

I’m a total wimp when it comes to immersing myself in it when

it’s as cold as the Pacific Ocean.

“Seriously. You’ll get used to it. I promise.” Melanie held

out her hand to me and I found myself walking forward, body

board under my arm, ignoring the sharp pain and then numbness

that the rising water was causing in my body. I finally reached out

and took her hand. I suddenly felt warm all over.

For the next twenty minutes they taught me how to catch a

wave just right to be able to ride it all the way back to the beach,

and it didn’t take long before I was racing them, able to steer

around the swimmers standing in our way. After another hour,

we hauled our exhausted bodies out of the water to dry off on

the now slightly cleaner beach. Lying on my towel with the sun

on my face, I turned to look at Melanie and my new friends.

They were laughing and talking about something pointless, but

I smiled, knowing that I was now a part of their circle. I felt like

I belonged.

That evening I joined Melanie back at her house and, as we

had been doing almost nonstop since we met, we spent an hour

or so studying for the classes we shared and then devoted the rest

• 29 •

m.L. RIce

of the evening to working on upcoming S.A.E.P. projects and just

talking about anything and everything. She was so easy to talk

to that I was beginning to show my natural tendencies toward

sarcasm and dry humor. I still felt inexplicably nervous around

her at times, but tried my best to shove the wayward thoughts to

the back of my mind and just enjoy our time together. My worries

that I might be no more than a pity friend had been allayed after

only a couple of days. We spent as much time together as we

could, and even she mentioned she couldn’t remember having

formed such a fast and meaningful bond with anyone.

“Why do you think that is?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think we get along so well? I mean, everybody

likes you, but me? Not so much.”

“Dev, you’re funny. You make me laugh and you make me

happy. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. It’s been

so nice to have someone I can really talk to about things other

than reality TV or like, OMG, did you see what that girl was

wearing?” she said in a convincing Valley Girl accent. “It’s nice

to have a friend who actually enjoys deep conversations and

doesn’t care about all the superficial bullshit that happens in high

school. You’re very real.”

I smiled. After a short pause I said, “But, like, OMG seriously,

did you see what that girl was wearing?”

We both laughed, and then went downstairs for a cup of hot

chocolate before going to bed as if nothing major had happened.

Inside my heart, though, something definitely had.

v

• 30 •

Who I Am

The next few days continued as usual with classes, S.A.E.P.

meetings, band, and a lot of fun. Melanie and I were starting

to be silly more than either of us normally would, but it was a

nice change for me to get to act my age. For example, during

marching rehearsal we would play pranks on unsuspecting tuba

and trombone players by putting Anbesol on their mouthpieces

when they weren’t looking. Numb lips made playing impossible.

During football games we would yell and scream for our team

while cursing the referees and opposing players, even though our

team was always far behind on the scoreboard. In class we would

get in trouble for laughing during tests or lectures, even when it

wasn’t about anything that we could help. There was a time when

Melanie’s stomach growled so loudly during a biology test that

I could almost feel the vibration from my desk next to her. We

were both asked to sit in the hall after that one. It was seriously

funny, though. Who wouldn’t have cracked up? Or there was the

time in English when I was slouching so far down in my seat

that my shoes slipped on the floor and down I went, only to get

stuck with my head in the seat of the chair and the rest of my

body splayed out under the attached desk. Of course, that sent the

whole classroom into fits of uproarious laughter, so we weren’t

singled out for punishment.

Occasionally our after-school and weekend adventures

would take us to a local park near her house where we would

do homework at a picnic table or take breaks to see who could

swing the highest in the playground. My selfish nature always

made me want dibs on the swing set, but whenever a child would

look longingly at the swings, Melanie was always the first to leap

off and offer up her seat. She even found herself recruited as the

unofficial swing pusher on crowded days. I would sneak peeks

• 31 •

m.L. RIce

at the mothers and nannies waiting on the graffiti-speckled park

benches, but instead of looking wary that a stranger was pushing

their child on the creaky swings, they mostly looked relieved to

not have to do it themselves.

Whether it was passing notes during class, lying lazily on

her bed procrastinating, soaking in the hot tub, or taking a walk,

I was learning more and more about my new friend and why

everyone was so drawn to her. She seemed too good to be true

and I was baffled at how she could seem as attached to me as I

was to her.

“You know, Mel,” I said as we walked around the park on a

particularly perfect Sunday, “I just don’t get how you can be so

nice to everyone. You love kids, you know everyone at school,

and I wouldn’t be surprised if you helped little old ladies cross

the street when I’m not looking. Aren’t there people out there that

just really annoy the hell out of you sometimes?”

“Of course there are.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a saint. I

just figure that anyone who’s going to be a prick to other people

has more problems in their life than I know about. I think people

deserve the benefit of the doubt. What if their dog just died or

they’re having money problems or something? Besides, if they’re

going to annoy me or piss me off for five minutes or an hour or

whatever, I just think, ‘They’re annoying me for this short period

of time, but they have to be around themselves twenty-four hours

a day,’ and that usually helps.”

I laughed.

“Esmerelda taught me that one, and whatever she says is

usually right.”

“Well, you’re a better person than me. The way the kids

• 32 •

Who I Am

treated me in my other schools didn’t make me want to see their

points of view. I just wanted to kick them in the face.”

“Nice.” Melanie smiled and put her arm around my

shoulders. “But believe me, if I saw someone treating you that

way…I would kick them in the face.”

I beamed at her and stood a little taller as we started back

toward her house. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on you.” I

elbowed her in the ribs.

“Hey, just because I like to read and want to save the world

doesn’t mean that I couldn’t take out a couple of bastards if I

needed to.”

I laughed as the thought of Melanie wearing combat boots,

holding a machine gun, and smoking a cigar popped into my

head. It was…a pretty interesting image.

v

When we first started hanging out, most of our attention was

on school, but I was always pulling her away from her books

to go to a movie or disrupting her attention in class by making

off-color jokes. You may not think that having your best friend

forcefully spit Sprite all over you is a good thing, but when that

friend is someone like Melanie, making her laugh that hard is a

personal victory like no other.

Despite our antics, school was also more productive and

fun than ever before. I was finally able to connect my natural

intellect with actual academic success because I was genuinely

happy, and that inspired me to do well. I had always been smarter

than most of the other kids in my classes—not always with good

• 33 •

m.L. RIce

results—and I earned good grades, but not as good as if I had

really applied myself.

Band was a blast too, and our marching show for the year

was to music from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, and that was

right up my nerdy little alley.

The only odd thing was that I found myself becoming

increasingly jealous over Melanie’s other friendships. I had

never been an overly possessive person, yet when I saw Melanie

chatting with one of her many admirers, a tiny ball of anger mixed

with self-doubt, mashed together with vast amounts of confusion,

would form in my stomach. We’d be sitting in the economics

classroom we used for our after-school S.A.E.P. meetings, and

some cute girl or geeky but hot guy would say something to make

her laugh or earn her praise, and I’d wish that person was wearing

concrete chum-flavored shoes in the middle of a very large and

shark-infested body of water. The viciousness of my thoughts

shocked me. Where in the world were they coming from? And

why were they sprouting up at all?

I guess I was trying to come to terms with the fact that I

actually had a best friend for the first time in my life, so being

jealous was perfectly natural, considering. Obviously I never told

Melanie about the little green monster that had taken up residence

inside my chest. Because most of her attention was focused on

me anyway, the jealousy only rarely reared its disturbing head.

v

It was a Friday afternoon near the end of October when I

received the first of several unwanted surprises.

• 34 •

Who I Am

“It’s Devin, right?” came a voice from behind me as I waited

for my bus to arrive at the stop outside of the school.

I turned around with a smile on my face, thinking it would

be one of Melanie’s friends that I had met recently or one of my

fellow band members. No such luck. My smile fell.

Jason Parker.

I had somehow managed to avoid his bullets since that first

day, and I hadn’t even run into him at his house because he was on

the swim team, which required before- and after-school practice,

and he was still staying in his college friend’s apartment most

nights. I fought to maintain my composure. Maybe now that I

was friends with his sister and I had started wearing normal jeans

and T-shirts, he would cut me some slack.

“Yeah, I’m Devin.”

Jason approached me, all smiles, and put his arm around my

shoulders. Supreme discomfort seized me.

“You’ve been hanging out with Melanie a lot lately, haven’t

you?”

I swallowed back nerves. “Um…yeah. I guess. We have a

lot of classes together.” This was a major simplification of our

growing friendship, but best not to push the issue with a bully.

His cordial manner was freaking me out.

“Right…right,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s a bit of a

problem.”

A problem? “Why?” I asked, startled.

“Well, you see, Devy…can I call you Devy?” My mouth

opened to answer, but I didn’t have the chance as he continued,

“I really don’t like you, and that means I don’t want you going

anywhere near my sister.”

• 35 •

m.L. RIce

Alarm sounded like a siren in my ears. I gaped in confused

silence for a moment, then gathered up what little courage I had

and said, “Well, since you don’t control her life or who she hangs

out with, I don’t see how that matters.”

Jason laughed and squeezed my shoulders harder with his

arm. I tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he was much larger and

taller than me. I was stuck.

“Well, it matters, ugly dyke, because I say so. You will

fucking hate life if you don’t back off. Hate it. That’s all you

need to know.”

I stood there, completely stunned, and not just by the threat.

Did he just call me a dyke?

“Get the hell off of me, you psycho!” I rasped. He was

practically crushing my shoulder. I’d be bruised the next day.

Other students waiting at the bus stop stared, and a large guy that

I recognized from the wrestling team began to approach from a

few yards away, annoyance on his face.

Jason immediately let go of my shoulder and laughed as if it

had all been one big joke.

“Chill, dude! I was just messin’ around with my friend

Devin here.” He punched me on my other shoulder harder than

appropriate for a friendly jab, and in my ear he whispered, “I

wouldn’t tell Melanie about our little chat if I were you.” Without

waiting for me to reply, he jammed his hands into the pockets of

his frayed cargo shorts and sauntered away, whistling the theme

song from Austin Powers.

I stared at the sidewalk, shaking inside, wondering why

Jason hated me so much and what, if anything, I could do to stay

off his radar.

• 36 •

Who I Am

v

Once home I ran straight to my room and slammed the door.

I was thankful Mom wasn’t home from work yet because I didn’t

want to talk with her about what had just happened. The hurt,

fear, and confusion that had been building while I rode the bus

burst free in a torrent of tears and racking sobs. Why had a few

mean comments from someone I knew to be an inconsiderate,

arrogant jerk cut so deeply?

I tried to think rationally about what he had said. He didn’t

want me hanging out with his sister anymore, but why would he

care? He didn’t like her either, and Lord knows that she didn’t like

him. Regardless of that fact, what authority did he have to keep

me away from her? Melanie had every right to have whatever

friends she wanted and she did. With all of the diversity that was

drawn to her, why was I so different and why was I the only one

being bullied?

Dyke. The word slammed into my memory as painfully and

sharply as a punch to my stomach. The nausea came instantly, and

I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. I curled into the fetal position on

my bed, holding away the pain.

Dyke.

It wasn’t as if that that particular word was such an insult.

I had heard worse in my unpopular life, and I definitely had

nothing against gay people. The problem was that being called a

dyke to my face was like a rock crashing through the thin crystal

shield of my own denial. As soon as I processed the word and its

implications I knew the truth.

I was a dyke.

• 37 •

m.L. RIce

I hadn’t been expecting it and had always pushed the

nagging little clues and thoughts to the back of my mind, but I

couldn’t deny it anymore. I was attracted to girls, and I was very

attracted to Melanie. I suppose I’d known it from the moment I

first laid eyes on her as she’d so willingly come to my rescue,

but admitting I was attracted to the same sex wasn’t some easily

accepted revelation, especially after having been raised in a

conservative military household where “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”

meant “Don’t be a homosexual or you’ll be beaten to death with

a brick in a sock.”

Jason saw through me as easily as if I were made of water,

but the more I thought about it, the more I figured he was worried

about his own reputation. What would his friends say if they

knew that his twin sister was best friends with…a lesbian? Did

that make her a lesbian too? If she was a lesbian, would that mean

that it was possible for him to be gay? It didn’t matter that his

sister was not a lesbian and that he was most definitely not gay.

The implications to his reputation were too much to ignore, and

he wanted to get me out of the way.

I knew I couldn’t tell Melanie what had happened or what he

had said. That would cause too much scrutiny of our relationship

on her part. If she really thought about it, maybe she would start

to remember all of those times she’d caught me staring at her in

class, or the way I always jumped when she innocently touched

me. If she knew how I really felt about her, I could lose her

forever. That was the worst thing I could think of, something I’d

do anything to avoid.

v

• 38 •

Who I Am

Throughout the weekend our phone rang constantly. Mom

left a message saying she was staying with her sister for a few

days because of the panic attacks she had started having. Aunt

Jessica had forbidden her to spend the weekend at home alone.

Well, alone with just me there to remind her about her shattered

life, which was awesome (not really), so I had the apartment to

myself. This was becoming normal because Mom either trusted

me implicitly or just didn’t care much about what I did while she

was away. Maybe a little of both. Either way, I was becoming

more independent whether I wanted to or not.

Melanie also kept calling and leaving messages for me, but

I refused to answer the phone.

“Hi, Dev! It’s Mel. Listen, I wanted to go by the L.A. Recycling

Center this afternoon to get some hard numbers on how much

paper and plastic can be saved if the school board agrees to our

recycling proposal. The Los Angeles Unified School District has

already implemented the plan and they can tell us how it’s been

going. I was calling to see if you wanted to come along. Call me

back!”

“Hey, Dev. I went to the recycling center and got the info we

need, but I was hoping to get your help in writing out the actual

proposal. You’re so good with words. Are you available tonight?

Oh, and get a cell phone already, this is L.A. and it’s not the Dark

Ages! Call me back!”

“Devin, it’s Mel. I called you yesterday, but haven’t heard

back from you. We’re supposed to meet up today for a swim and

lunch. I hope you haven’t forgotten! I’m assuming you’re already

• 39 •

m.L. RIce

on your way over since you’re not there, so ignore this message

when you get home later! See you soon!”

“Devin, it’s Melanie. Where have you been all day? It’s

seven o’clock and I’m worried about you! You didn’t show up for

lunch and I haven’t been able to reach you! I hope you’re not sick

or in trouble or anything. Please call me as soon as you get this

so I know you’re okay.”

At eleven o’clock Sunday night a knock at my front door

interrupted my brooding. I was still lying in bed and staring at

the cracks in the blank walls of my bare room as I had been doing

all weekend. I hadn’t slept at all and I hadn’t eaten anything, so

it took the knock getting louder and more persistent to finally

pull me out of my stupor. My first inclination was to stay put and

ignore whoever was intruding upon my self-imposed isolation.

But it might be Mom coming home late from Aunt Jessica’s. She

was always forgetting her keys and she probably just needed to

be let in.

I sat up and blew my nose, hoping that my red and puffy

eyes looked like I had been asleep instead of crying for two days

straight. I walked to the door and asked, “Who is it?” as I had

been taught to do in Los Angeles lest a bad guy be on the other

side ready to attack. I expected to hear Mom answer with her

usual, “It’s Mom, I forgot my keys again.” Instead I got a voice

that cracked with what sounded like relief.

“Devin! It’s Mel, let me in!”

My heart jumped into my throat. I had purposely been

avoiding her all weekend, needing to wrap my brain around my

• 40 •

Who I Am

newly admitted sexuality as well as to keep myself separated from

the main source of what was causing me the most confusion.

Mel.

I realized too late that falling off the face of the planet might

not have been the best plan. I hadn’t considered the worry it

would cause my friend. Now I just had to suck it up and try to

concoct a story that seemed at least mildly believable.

I opened the door and Melanie was inside my apartment

in a flash, wrapping me in a tight embrace that would’ve been

awesome if I wasn’t in such turmoil. A jolt in my stomach

appeared as the warmth of her body pressed against mine. The

only difference was that this time I knew what the now-familiar

jolt meant, and that caused a second, stronger sensation that made

me wrench out of the hug despite wanting to stay wrapped in her

arms forever.

“Hey, Mel,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or

answer the phone. I…I wasn’t feeling well.” Technically the

truth.

“Look at you!” Melanie fussed with my hair and inspected

my bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well, but I was

really worried. I had Esmerelda make lunch for us and when you

didn’t show up I thought you had been in an accident or wound

up in the hospital or something. It didn’t help that Jason was

home yesterday saying that I wouldn’t be seeing you anymore,

whatever that’s about.” Hurt shadowed Melanie’s eyes, and the

guilt washed over me in waves. Well, guilt and fury at Jason.

“I’m sure he was just being a dick and trying to scare me, but

when you didn’t show up for lunch and I didn’t hear from you, I

started to wonder if he had heard something I hadn’t.”

• 41 •

m.L. RIce

If only you knew, I thought.

“No, he’s just being a jerk as per usual. I’ve just been

having…personal issues and I needed to be alone for a while.

I didn’t think that…well, I just didn’t think. I’m sorry I worried

you. I’m an idiot.”

There was a pause as her brown eyes stared directly into the

blue of mine, as if she was trying to decide if my explanation

had been truthful or if something else lay just under the surface.

I wanted to think she assumed I was having a delayed reaction to

my father’s death, and that was fine with me.

Finally she said, “That’s okay, Dev. Just don’t do it again or

I swear I’ll kick your ass into the next county.” Melanie smiled to

soften the words and stroked my cheek.

Despite my melancholy, the fact that she was so concerned

with my well-being, plus her soft fingers brushing my face, sent

flutters of joy dancing through my chest.

“I promise I won’t do it again. You’re my best friend and I

should know that I can trust you. I don’t care what anyone else

says.”

Oops.

Melanie’s expression turned curious, thanks to my last

statement, but in true Melanie fashion, she apparently decided

to make nothing of it. I appreciated her respect for my privacy.

I appreciated the fact that she didn’t try to elicit a more

detailed description of what had caused my disappearing act. I

appreciated…her.

v

• 42 •

Who I Am

Melanie took it upon herself to watch over me for the rest

of the night and told me outright that we would both be skipping

school the next day, which was a huge deal for her. She could tell

that something had really been bothering me and she didn’t want

to leave me alone. This turned out to be a good thing. She figured

out that I hadn’t eaten or slept in two days when I began swaying

as I removed ice from the freezer to serve us lemonade. The world

had gone white, I murmured something about being sleepy, and

then everything faded to black. The last thing I remembered was

a spinning room and the pressure of strong arms enveloping me.

Safety.

Peace.

My fuzzy brain assumed it was Mom before I remembered

she was still at Aunt Jessica’s.

The next thing I knew, I woke up in my bed with the covers

pulled up around my shoulders. My room was unexpectedly

bright with the light of a new day and my mind swam trying to

place my thoughts back together.

Suddenly, I noticed the subtle sounds of breathing near

my right shoulder. I turned and jerked fully awake when I saw

Melanie lying on her side on top of the covers facing me, sound

asleep. My heart raced as I remembered what must have been a

fainting spell on my part and realized that Melanie had caught me

and put me to bed. It must not have been very easy. She wasn’t

much stronger than me, and dead weight is hard to handle. My

heart swelled.

Despite the number of sleepovers we had shared since

becoming best friends, this was the first moment I wished that I

had a single instead of a double bed to be closer to her. I know it

• 43 •

m.L. RIce

sounds clichéd, but she really did look incredibly beautiful and

peaceful while she slept. I carefully rolled onto my right side to

get a better look. A ray of light from the window fell directly onto

her brown hair, making it shine. It was a bit disheveled from a

night of tossing and turning, but that only made her more enticing

to me.

I eased my left arm out from under the sheets and slowly

reached toward her sleeping form, wanting nothing more than to

feel the softness her cheek. My hand hovered a mere inch above

her skin, but I hesitated. What if she woke up and realized what

I was doing? I knew she was an open-minded person in general,

but I was terrified that she might never speak to me again if she

realized the depth of my attraction. I couldn’t bear the thought

of losing her. This was more than just a crush. I was in love with

Melanie Parker.

Despite my reservations, I moved my hand closer to her face,

knowing that I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My fingertips

gently stroked her tanned cheek and she only shifted a little.

A shiver ran through my body and my fingers continued their

journey, lightly brushing over her parted lips. How I was able to

resist pressing my own to them I’ll never know.

Melanie stirred, and I jerked my arm away and into a false

stretch over my head, yawning theatrically.

“Morning, Mel.”

“Mpmh morning,” she said sleepily and then stretched like a

cat that has been lazing in the sun too long.

“I bet I freaked you out last night,” I said sheepishly.

Melanie had rolled onto her back, so she turned her head to

look at me with tired and worried eyes.

• 44 •

Who I Am

“You think?” she asked sarcastically. “How are you feeling

now?”

“Well, I think I need some food. I kind of…forgot to eat this

weekend.”

“You forgot?” Melanie propped herself up onto her elbow.

“Something must have really upset you. I’m not going to pry,

but if there’s anything I can do to help…if you need anything…

oh please, Dev, just don’t scare me. I’d do anything for you, and

I don’t ever want you to go through anything like this again.

Especially not alone.”

Mel, if only I could tell you and if only you could really make

it better.

“I promise. I was just being selfish and letting stupid stuff

get to me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I…” I love

you. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Melanie seemed to forget her irritation with me and rolled

over to lay her arm across my stomach. She squeezed me into a

one-armed hug. The length of her body was pressed against my

right side and her head nestled comfortably on my shoulder.

After a moment, Mel stiffened. “You’re shaking, Dev! Are

you sure you’re okay?”

“Um…yeah. Food. I…I think I just need food.”

• 45 •

• 46 •

Who I Am

chApteR thRee

My heart jumped into my throat when I opened the door

and I saw a positively glowing princess standing in

front of me. Melanie wore a movie-quality Snow White costume,

complete with a red apple in her hand.

“Damn, girl.” My open mouth froze in embarrassment and

I had to pry my eyes away from the costume bodice to look

Melanie in the face. “I mean…you look…good.” Apparently, I

had lost all powers of coherent speech and was becoming more

flustered the more I looked. Just great.

Luckily Melanie laughed and said, “Thanks. You look cool

too!”

I, however, felt completely inadequate and cheesy in my

homemade pirate outfit.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I said nervously.

“Why in the world not?”

“I just feel…inferior, I guess.”

“Inferior?”

“Oh come on, Mel. I’m wearing one of my dad’s old shirts,

cut-up used pants from Goodwill, a bandana, and a plastic sword.

This is so the opposite of cool.”

• 47 •

m.L. RIce

“I swear, you have no faith in your friends, do you? If there’s

one thing I can jam into that stubborn head of yours, it will be

some damn self-confidence. Now, listen. It’s tradition for the drum

major to hold a Halloween party at her house for band members

every year. And you are…?” She tapped her foot waiting for my

response.

“A member of the band.”

“And that means?”

“That means I’m—”

“That’s right.” Melanie cut me off. “That means you’re

going to the party.”

I sighed and said. “I guess there are worse things in life than

being bossed around by Snow White.”

v

She had been right, of course. No one cared about my half-

assed pirate outfit. While it was blatantly obvious that some of the

students came from money because of their elaborate costumes,

as if I didn’t already know that, others decided that low-tech

was the way to go. One of our snare drummers was wearing a

bedsheet as a toga, a very large guy from the tuba section had on

an ill-fitting cheerleader uniform with water balloon boobs and a

horrendous wig, and other people decided that they didn’t need

a costume at all.

The party was chaperoned by our drum major’s parents,

so we had to be…maybe not on our best behavior, but at least

not running wild through their house. Even the punch bowl that

was brimming over with mist from dry ice was being carefully

guarded. No alcohol allowed, which was fine by me since I had

• 48 •

Who I Am

never had a drink before and didn’t know how it would affect me.

I didn’t want to embarrass myself at my first party ever.

“This is seriously your first school party?” my friend

Katherine yelled over the music after I said as much while

ladling punch into plastic cups for Melanie and myself.

“Yeah, I didn’t get invited many places at the base

schools.”

“Well, just wait until the real party at the end of the year.

It’s usually at the house of someone whose parents are out of

town. Older siblings are very good about getting beer and stuff. If

you’re not falling-down drunk at that one, you’re doing it wrong!

That party is always epic!”

“Sounds…great!” I said, not really understanding the draw

of wild parties or being falling-down drunk in the first place. I

gave Katherine a halfhearted thumbs up and started my slow

return through the crowd of people back to Melanie.

She was leaning against the far wall of the living room where

I had left her and she again stole my breath. I stopped and just

watched her for a while. She was laughing, having a good time.

It was a minute before I realized she was talking excitedly with

Jameel, a good-looking and highly intelligent trombone player

that we both spoke with often during rehearsal. My dazzled smile

turned into a worried frown, and a strange tightening in my chest

made it hard to breathe. I watched Jameel reach out and slowly

run his hand down her arm, from shoulder to wrist, in an overt

attempt to flirt. She continued smiling at something he’d said and

shifted from one foot to the other as she tucked a lock of hair

behind her ear.

Immense fury coursed through me. My whole body was

on fire. How dare he touch her like that? All of a sudden the

• 49 •

m.L. RIce

heat and anger turned into an almost debilitating sickness as new

and disturbing thoughts crashed into my mind. Melanie was a

beautiful, friendly, amazing young woman. Who wouldn’t want

to be with her? Did I expect her to remain single and dedicated

only to me forever?

In a few miserable seconds I had glimpsed our future and

saw Melanie happily married with a man who got to touch her in

ways that I never would, with a baby on her hip, and all the while

I would stand on the edge of her life, waiting for her to notice me

every now and again. I could only watch in horror as her happy

family started to forget me as the years passed.

I blew out a breath and leaned too quickly on the door frame

of the kitchen, fruit punch spilling onto my boots and nausea

threatening to overwhelm me.

“Devin!” I heard Melanie’s voice through the muffled

ringing in my ears and in a moment she and other band members

were gathered around me, checking to see if I was okay. Slowly

the world came back into focus. Melanie, Jameel, Katherine, and

a few other people stood in front of me, assessing me, making

sure that I wasn’t going to fall down. I averted my eyes from

Jameel’s concerned face. He really was a nice guy and I didn’t

want him to see the animosity and jealousy in my eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Seriously.” I now added mortification to

the emotional roller coaster I had just ridden. Hands continued to

hold on to me as a jumble of worried voices filled my ears. “I just

got dizzy for a second. It’s nothing.”

“I’ve got her.” I heard Melanie say as she started walking me

toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s get you some fresh air.”

“That was so frickin’ lame,” I said as I tried in vain to turn

invisible.

• 50 •

Who I Am

“Let’s just get you outside for a while.”

“Whatever.”

Melanie and I sat on a bench on the front porch in silence

for a while.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Fine.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, Mel. Just drop it!” I said more forcefully than was

necessary.

Melanie stayed silent for a minute, but then continued, “You

can tell me if something is bothering—”

“Damn it! I said I’m fine!” Anger started to wash over me

again. Melanie looked taken aback. She stopped looking at me

and sat up straighter. I had hurt her feelings. At first I didn’t care.

After all, hadn’t she hurt mine? I immediately knew that wasn’t

fair. She couldn’t help being popular and likable. Of course boys

were going to try to hook up with her. It was only a matter of time

before someone irresistible like Jameel took her away from me

before I ever really had her at all. I could either deal with that and

enjoy the time we had or walk away from her right now.

I knew that there was no way I could bring myself to do that,

so I continued to sit there stony-faced and sick to my stomach.

“Listen, Dev. I don’t know what’s up with you tonight, but I

can take you home if you don’t feel well.”

I laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you away

from,” I stopped before saying Jameel, “from this party.”

“Now what in the hell is this all about?” I could tell she was

getting defensive. “What did I do to piss you off?”

I knew that I was digging myself into a hole, and the last

thing I wanted was for Melanie to be mad at me for a reason she

• 51 •

m.L. RIce

couldn’t possibly know. I slumped down and sighed, “Nothing. I

just feel like crap.”

Melanie still looked uncertain, but said, “Don’t take it out on

me, then. I’m your friend. Just know that I’m here to listen if you

have anything you need to say.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m just being a freak as

per usual.”

“Well, you’re my favorite freak and I want you to be happy.

What can I do?”

I swallowed hard. My voice cracked as I said, “Just sit with

me for a while, okay?”

Melanie’s costume dress rustled as she moved closer, put her

hand in mine, and rested her head gently on my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and sighed, allowing her warmth to seep

into me. For a moment, that moment, everything seemed right

with the world.

v

I had been worried that my two episodes of near meltdown

would push Melanie away, but despite my moodiness and angst,

Melanie and I were as close as ever. The whole thing seemed to

strengthen our friendship. We now had an unspoken bond that

drew us together more closely than I had ever been with anyone

else in my life. It wouldn’t go over well with Jason if he found out,

but I didn’t care. Unfortunately, he did care and, in a completely

juvenile way, he decided to let me know what he thought.

I opened my locker one day shortly after my meltdowns

to find my books soaked in months-old spoiled milk. Jason

had somehow gotten the liquid through the slats the previous

• 52 •

Who I Am

afternoon. I would’ve passed it off as a random prank were it not

for the word “Lesbo” written with a white-out pen on the front of

the locker. Luckily I had gotten to school early to help the band

director compile an updated phone tree, so no one else saw the

offensive vandalism. White-out is easy enough to scrape off a

locker quickly, but the smell of rancid milk? Yeah, it lingers. I

had to make up a story about leaving an open pint in my locker

by accident when Melanie smelled it on my books in our classes

that day. I tried to make something good come of it, though, and

took the opportunity to permanently move all of my books and

school things into my assigned trumpet locker in the band hall.

Not only would this solve the problem of trying to avoid Jason in

the mornings, as I had been doing every day, but it would also get

me to the band hall a few minutes earlier to see Melanie before

class started. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Other than that incident, senior year was progressing well.

Even though I was over at Melanie’s house more nights than not,

we usually ate dinner in her bedroom because her parents were

rarely home, usually working until late in the evening and then

having to attend some gala or charity function at night. But I did

occasionally have dinner with the whole family.

Well, the whole family minus Jason.

Thankfully, he had completely stopped staying in his cabana

(which we had taken to calling the Bastard Bungalow). Melanie

told me that he had started skipping school and that he spent most

nights smoking weed with his buddies or doing whatever with

his new girlfriend—a plastic and vapid-looking brunette who had

dropped out of another school the year before. This was fine with

me. The lack of concern shown by his parents did surprise me,

though.

• 53 •

m.L. RIce

I asked Melanie about this one night after one of the rare

family dinners. She shrugged. “He’s eighteen. I guess they figure

he can do what he wants. Plus, they’ve always thought Jason can

do no wrong.”

The only person who seemed to have a problem with it

was Esmerelda, who considered Jason a son and could see the

dangerous path he was treading. He was on the verge of flunking

out of school, he had already been put on probation from the

swim team, and Esmerelda would burst into tears whenever he

would stop by the house to get food or do laundry and ignore her

completely. All in all, not a good situation.

But wait—Jason was— “I didn’t know you were eighteen

already! Why haven’t you been buying me cigarettes?” I asked,

trying to lighten the mood.

“The only reason you’re not getting an antismoking lecture

right now is because I know that you’re as disgusted by that habit

as I am,” Melanie replied primly. “But yeah, we turned eighteen

on June second before senior year.”

“Wow, that’s early.”

Melanie nodded. “When we were five years old and about

to start kindergarten, we both got severe measles. The first

vaccination we got when we were babies apparently didn’t take

and, ironically, we had been scheduled to get a second vaccination

the week after we were infected. Normally it wouldn’t be a big

deal if it was treated well and we could have just started school

a bit late, but somehow I got the complication of pneumonia at

the same time and that put me out of commission for about three

months.” She shrugged. “Lucky me. We don’t know why it was

so bad, but I actually came pretty close to dying.”

“What? How?”

• 54 •

Who I Am

“Apparently there was something a little off with my

immune system. Anyway, Mom and Dad wanted us to be in

school together, so they held Jason back a year too. I wish they

hadn’t so he’d be a year ahead of me, already graduated, and out

of my life.”

“Was he always such a…jackass?”

“No. I think Jason started to resent that they had held him

back too. He got meaner as we got older, and he blames me for

everything. He’s irrational and unhappy and I think he almost

wishes that I hadn’t recovered.”

That brought me back to the horrifying thought. “You

almost…died?” What would I have done without Melanie to ease

me into my new life in Los Angeles? I’m pretty sure I would be

the same lonely outcast that I was in every other school. No, I

much preferred the “Melanie, alive and well” scenario.

“Yep. It left one of my lungs, the left one actually, a bit weak

and underdeveloped. It wasn’t a normal side effect, and they still

don’t know why it hit me so hard, but…oh well. All better now,”

she said with a smile as she patted her chest. “Well, mostly.”

“But wait, you play French horn and march and swim and

stuff. Is that hard on your lungs?” I couldn’t strip the concern

from my tone.

“Not really. I just can’t run a marathon or play sports

or anything like that. I bet I could, actually, I would just get

winded too quickly. It’s kind of like asthma, I guess, as far as my

limitations. You haven’t noticed how tired and wheezy I get after

marching a whole show?”

“Well, yeah, but I get out of breath myself, so I didn’t think

anything was out of the ordinary.”

“It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. It was ages ago and I

• 55 •

m.L. RIce

suck at sports anyway, so it’s no loss to the world if I don’t go to

the Olympics,” she said with a laugh.

I smiled and found myself pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t

until my arms were around her shoulders that I realized what I

was doing. She didn’t seem to mind or find it odd, though, so I

just enjoyed the closeness as she hugged me back.

Weird. I’d never understood why knights in shining armor

had such an obsession with rescuing damsels in distress until that

moment. Finding out that Melanie had a physical problem was

like a beacon to my sense of innate chivalry, and I wanted to

protect her with every ounce of my being. She was obviously not

in any need of protection whatsoever, and generally it was she

who saved me from bad or awkward situations, so I just enjoyed

the feeling, however misguided, of the tables being turned for

once. For someone like Melanie? I could be a knight. No doubt

about it.

v

Diesel fumes swirled around me as I climbed the steps into

the waiting bus and trudged toward the two seats near the back

where Melanie waited. Our band had just finished marching in a

parade in San Diego on one of our football team’s off weekends,

and we were about to head back to Beverly Hills. The humidity

had been horrendous and every band member was now an

odorous, damp mass of sweat. The entire bus was starting to smell

like what we of the band nerds have termed “Band Funk”—that

mixture of body odor, valve oil, and sweat-soaked polyester that

hovers around every marching band everywhere. Students were

stripping down to their boxers and sports bras without regard for

• 56 •

Who I Am

the members of the opposite sex around them. Males and females

alike discarded modesty in exchange for comfort at the earliest

possible convenience. Moist undershirts were placed on the tiny

ledge next to the bus windows where the air conditioner could

dry them off during the ride home, and people finally began to

settle into their seats as the spatially challenged strip-fest wound

down.

Now somewhat drier and more comfortable, I squeezed past

Melanie to my seat next to the window and plopped down with

an audible sigh. “Well, that was longer and more unpleasant than

I was expecting.”

Melanie chuckled and said, “Yeah, I think I have a blister

on my heel from walking so far. I really need better-fitting band

shoes.”

“Still, I love these band trips. Whether it’s an away game or

a parade or whatever. It’s just fun for me. Makes me feel like a

rock star on tour or something.” I paused. “Well, a rock star in a

one-hundred-person band with no hot groupies, no money, and

an uncomfortably crammed and crappy tour bus with a stopped-

up, smelly toilet behind my seat.”

“Damn, you sure know how to make things sound appealing.

Sign me up for more!” Melanie said sarcastically.

“Well, it’s nine o’clock and we have two and half hours until

we get home. If you want me to go into detail about how my

sweaty panties are starting to form a rash on my ass, I’d be happy

to oblige.”

Melanie barked a laugh and yelled, “No! No, that’s okay.

I’ll just have to make do with the fantasies about the stopped-up

toilet. What a charmed life we lead.”

We both laughed until exhaustion set in and I eventually

• 57 •

m.L. RIce

started to drift off as the movement of the bus and the weariness

from a full day of marching lulled me. The lights had been turned

off and the small pockets of conversation scattered around us

fell silent one by one. I balled a sweatshirt into a makeshift

pillow and tried to fit it snugly between my head and the window.

Melanie wasn’t as tired and started reading her much-used copy

of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando for what I’m sure was the hundredth

time.

I awoke an hour later, the bus still rumbling up the highway

toward Los Angeles, and noticed that I was no longer leaning to

my right against the window, but was nestled comfortably against

Melanie’s shoulder on my left. To my horror, I also realized that

I had drooled a bit onto her T-shirt. From my vantage point I

could see she was still reading and hadn’t bothered to wake me

up or move me even though I was blatantly invading her personal

space. I sat up slowly, carefully wiping my cheek and the damp

spot on her shirt. “Uh…sorry.”

“You should be,” Melanie teased. “Just kidding, don’t look

so scared.”

“I didn’t mean to…you know…sleep on you.”

“Dev, it’s fine. Really. You can use me as a pillow anytime

you want.” She smiled sincerely while I blushed furiously.

“So,” I said, trying to change the subject, “how much longer

until we get home?”

“Only an hour or so. Hey, did you still want to go see that

sci-fi movie tomorrow? I got free tickets to the AMC in Century

City from my dentist for referring someone to her. Phillip and

Christina said that they wanted to come too if we were going.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun. Don’t we need to finish the Keynote

project for the big S.A.E.P. presentation, though?” I asked, glad

• 58 •

Who I Am

that the conversation was moving away from what I had just

done.

“Oh, so now it’s Ms. Devin who wants to stay on track, is it?

I’ve been a bad influence on you. You work too hard.” Melanie

winked at me and jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.

“Well, look who’s being a slacker now…I’m so proud!” I

wiped a pretend tear from my eye as I received another friendly

jab.

Melanie continued, “Okay, but remember that on Sunday

we’ve promised ourselves to spend the entire day going over that

SAT review stuff. I have to do well. I mean, I can take it again

later this year, but I’d rather just get it over and done with.”

“I know. I promise to not distract you if you promise to help

me with the math portion. I really suck ass at math.”

“I promise. And you’ll do fine. You’ve already gotten better

since we started going through that workbook.”

I raised my right hand and said, “I hereby vow that whatever

I do in my adult life, math will not be a part of it.”

Melanie smiled. “So there’s to be no Devin the Amazing

Physicist, Geneticist, Engineer, Astronaut, huh?”

“Yeah, not so much. More like Devin the Homeless,

Multiple-Cat-Owning, Unskilled, Trumpet-Playing Vagrant.”

“Sexy.”

“Yep. I’m gonna be quite the catch. Watch out, world!”

“Oh, I dunno. I think you have more going for you than you

know.”

I looked at her skeptically and did my best to dampen the

sudden flutter in my chest.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence until the bus pulled up

to the back doors of the school near the band hall. Students woke

• 59 •

m.L. RIce

up with sluggish reluctance, stretched, and then trailed slowly

off the bus, picking up stored instruments and either heading to

their cars or meeting parents who had come by to pick them up.

Melanie had volunteered to take me and our friend Katherine

home that evening so we piled ourselves, our smelly uniform

bags, and our instruments into her Prius and drove away.

As Katherine waved good-bye from her front door Melanie

began the short drive to my apartment. We were both too tired

to say much, but Melanie finally asked, “Do you want to come

over tonight? I mean, since we’re going to the movie tomorrow

anyway?”

I thought it over, and even though I wanted to spend every

waking minute with her, I knew Mom was waiting up for me and

I started to feel guilty that I never spent time at home.

“I think I need some parental unit bonding with Mom. At

least just for the morning. I think she wants to take me to IHOP

or something, but can you pick me up on your way to the theater

at three-ish?”

Melanie looked uncharacteristically disappointed, but she

said, “Yeah, that’s cool. But I expect you to stay over on Saturday.

You know, work on S.A.E.P. stuff that night and get an early start

on the studying in the morning.”

Yeah, twist my arm, I thought ironically. “Okay, slumber party

it is. I’ll bring the sugar-free Red Bull, marshmallows, and Jolly

Ranchers if you provide the chips and salsa, and brownies.”

“If Esmy makes her brownies, we won’t get any work done

at all. Those things are like crack!”

“Hmm…” I wrinkled my brow in mock deep thought. “You

know what? I think I’ll chance it.”

• 60 •

Who I Am

v

Our football season ended with a whimper with our team

breaking the record for number of straight losses in Southern

California history. The band, however, received a perfect score

at the local marching competition—unfortunately we weren’t

placed high enough compared to other bands to move on to the

next level. Melanie and I decided to use our newfound free time

from marching rehearsal to kick the S.A.E.P. up a notch. We

planned a school-wide presentation of the global warming film

An Inconvenient Truth in the auditorium and even arranged for

a guest panel of local politicians and scientists to participate

in a Q&A session afterward. It turned out much larger than we

had anticipated, with many other schools in the area requesting

similar presentations for their students. This also coincided with

our desperate scramble-studying for midterm exams and filling

out college applications. Melanie and I were overworked and

stressed, but always happily in each other’s company.

We took our SATs on the first Saturday of December and felt

that we had both done extremely well, so at least we didn’t have

to worry about that on top of everything else. Melanie was dead

set on getting into Stanford to study environmental science, but

wanting to be prepared for anything, she applied to several other

schools as well.

I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I wanted to do or where

I should go yet, but I knew that it had to be somewhere near

Melanie, and nothing made me happier than playing music.

Growing up doing little but practicing my trumpet had paid off,

and I was the best player in the school. I could think of worse

• 61 •

m.L. RIce

things than devoting my life to music performance. However, not

really knowing much about the schools in California, I simply

applied to the same schools that Melanie did, hoping I would get

accepted somewhere on a music scholarship.

Mom and Dad had set aside a college fund for me and that

would help, but I couldn’t afford to go with no financial aid at all.

This also meant that I would most likely end up going to a state

school rather than somewhere like Stanford. I burned CD after

CD of myself playing concertos on my trumpet and filled out one

scholarship application after another. Ms. Peacey helped and told

me what music schools looked for in their scholarship students.

I also composed a short solo piece to include with each packet

and surprised not only myself, but also Mom and Melanie at how

good it sounded. With Ms. Peacey’s letter of recommendation to

top it all off, I mailed out every application and tried to infuse

good karma into each one.

One rather dull and gray Wednesday during this flurry of

activity, I was walking to lunch alone because Melanie had a

meeting with the principal about another possible school-wide

S.A.E.P. project. As I rounded the corner toward the cafeteria, a

large weight hit me hard, squarely in the back, and I flew forward

and slid on the rough sidewalk. It took me a minute to catch my

breath. When I turned around to see what had hit me, I caught a

glimpse of Jason’s unmistakable blond hair as he and his friends

walked lazily around the corner, laughing. Unfortunately, none of

my friends were around to witness anything, and the students who

were there just pointed and laughed. I glanced down at my shirt

and jeans, stained with dirt and blood. The skin on my knees and

palms had been scraped so badly, I was sure I’d have to throw my

• 62 •

Who I Am

clothes away later. Trying my best to breathe through the pain, I

limped away from the sneers and humiliation and made my way

to the nurse’s office.

Soon I was sucking air through my teeth at the biting sting

of the alcohol the nurse was using to clean my wounds and

wondering how I would explain the incident to Melanie without

bringing up the whole Jason issue again. I didn’t want her to feel

responsible. I had never been prone to clumsiness, but I figured

that I could make up as passable a story as any other.

Melanie slid into her seat next to me in biology after the

lunch I’d missed. “Principal Dunn is totally on board for the next

big presentation. I think we just need to—” Her gaze dropped to

the tightly wrapped bandages around my hands. “What in the

hell happened to your hands? And your jeans! Are you okay?”

she asked loudly as the other students filed in and took their

seats.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Shh!” Some of our classmates had

become curious about our conversation, and I didn’t want any

more attention that day. “I just tripped outside of the cafeteria.”

“Dev, you must’ve landed pretty damn hard to hurt yourself

that badly. The knees of your jeans are ripped open. It looks like

you were dragged across the ground or something.”

“No!” I snapped before quieting to a whisper again. “No, I

just, you know, tripped, like I said. I was jogging to the cafeteria,

I tripped on something and, you know, blam. Don’t make a big

deal out of it, Mel, it was embarrassing enough as it is. Everyone

laughed at me. I’m fine! I swear.”

Melanie looked at me skeptically. I knew the blood

and bandages made a simple trip-and-fall explanation seem

• 63 •

m.L. RIce

unrealistic, but I stared back at her, somewhat defiantly, until

she dropped the subject. As I turned toward the front of the class,

however, I smiled at the fact that she had been so concerned

about me. I guess every thorn can also have its rose.

v

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

I laughed and patted Melanie on the shoulder. “You’ll be

fine. Since when have you ever been nervous about anything

except failing tests?”

“Since I’m supposed to be on national TV and not look like

a dumb-ass.” Melanie wrung her hands into a white-knuckled

knot and stared at the bright lights that were being set up in her

house for her satellite interview.

“Okay, one: you’ve never looked like a dumb-ass in your life,

and two: how many high school students are profiled on CNN for

the student group they created? You’ll be seen by people all over

the world, not to mention on YouTube! You should be proud!”

“You are so not helping.” I could have sworn Melanie turned

a little greener. “What if I asked you to do the interview instead?

You’ve done almost as much as I have for the S.A.E.P.!”

I swallowed hard. “And pass out on live TV? Don’t think so.

Come on, you created the group and it’s because of you that it’s

so successful. Look, I’ll take you out for tacos afterward.”

Melanie’s eyes gleamed. “Promise?”

“I promise.” I smiled and took her hand in mine. She jumped

a little because of her nerves, but then took a deep breath and

seemed to calm down.

• 64 •

Who I Am

The CNN interview was part of a series recognizing high

school and college students who were trying to make a difference

in the world, and after Melanie’s spot aired, the video could be

seen playing on every phone and computer in the school. I didn’t

think it was possible, but she became even more popular and we

had a flood of requests to join the S.A.E.P. Letters and e-mails

from students in other school districts piled up. Everyone wanted

to know if they could create S.A.E.P. groups in their own schools

as chapters of ours—the original. The website Nicholas had set

up for the group crashed his home server more than once from

the increased Internet traffic, and most of the workload had to

be divided up among the other students that had joined, both

from our school as well as others. The best part? The expanded

group and new chapters were run by a central student committee

Melanie had created, which freed her for some relaxation and a

well-deserved hiatus.

Winter break was just what we needed. We wanted

nothing more than to forget about school or getting into a good

university or extracurricular activities or the downward spiral

of the environment and life as we knew it. It was, after all, the

holiday season. The perfect time to indulge in blatant excess and

capitalism.

v

“So what are you and your mom going to do for Christmas?”

Melanie asked one day while we sat soaking in her backyard hot

tub, reveling in the exhilaration of the hot water contrasting with

the cold winter air.

• 65 •

m.L. RIce

“We’re going to go over to my aunt Jessica’s house for

Christmas dinner. Mom is moping around more than ever,

though. I guess I don’t blame her. This will be her first Christmas

without Dad. Despite their problems, I know that she really

misses him.”

“You don’t miss him?”

I frowned. “Not really. I know that sounds mean, but he and

I just really weren’t that close. He paid way more attention to his

career than to me and Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” Melanie said. “I do understand.”

I nodded. “One time, I was cast in a musical at my

elementary school and I actually got the role of Lily St. Regis in

our production of Annie.”

“Cool!”

“I know. I was so excited. I’m usually very shy, as you know,

but I love musicals, as you also know”—Melanie rolled her eyes

theatrically and received a well-deserved splash from me—“and

I admit it: I wanted my daddy to see me in my big stage debut and

to be proud. Well, I told him when I got home from school that

day and his reply was pretty much, ‘Lily St. Regis? Who the hell

is that? Why didn’t your teacher give you the lead? Haven’t I told

you to speak up in class and get yourself noticed? You’ll never

get anywhere in life unless you start acting like a leader.’”

“Dev, that so sucks.”

“When we finally got to perform and all of the Air Force

families were there together, taking pictures and cheering on their

own children, my dad was in his office, finishing up paperwork

he swore had to get done that night.”

“Nice.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry. Was

he like that all the time?”

• 66 •

Who I Am

“Pretty much. Even last year I got first chair in the school

band and had a pretty long and difficult solo during our winter

concert.” I gave her a sidelong glance. “I might add that I sounded

better than I’ve ever sounded in my life. Other students’ parents

kept coming up afterward to congratulate me.”

“Let me guess, Dad wasn’t there.”

“Close. He was there. He just slept through the whole

damn thing. Mom was as proud of me as she could be and loved

listening to me play, but Dad? He just thought music was a waste

of time.” I paused for a moment, unsure whether to feel sad or

angry. “You know, I can’t remember a single Hallmark moment

from my entire childhood. I guess we just didn’t know each

other that well. He was the strong military type and I was—

am—not.”

“But what does that matter?”

“It just does. Or did. I was never outgoing enough, good

enough, athletic enough, girly enough, pretty enough, or popular

enough. He didn’t approve of my interest in music or geeky

things, as he liked to call them. He wanted me to be a softball

player or president of the student council or a member of the

debate team or homecoming queen or all four at once.”

“Because I’m sure he was perfect in high school,” Melanie

said, outraged on my behalf.

“I don’t think so. He and I were just…different.” Another

memory popped into my head. “On my birthday in third grade,

I wanted to have a party and just invite the few people I was

somewhat friendly with. You know, just a small thing with cake

and a game or two. Don’t worry,” I said, seeing the wary look on

Melanie’s face, “the party actually turned out okay…this isn’t a

case of Carrie or anything like that, but he didn’t approve of my

• 67 •

m.L. RIce

geeky little friends and wanted me to invite the more popular

girls. You know, the snobs who hated me and called me names

behind my back and to my face.”

“Nightmare.”

“No kidding. Since he had always been popular and a jock,

he just didn’t grasp the concept that I didn’t fit in with those girls

no matter what I did. Do you know how humiliating it is to be

forced to phone up people who you know hate your guts and ask

them to come to your party and to have them, predictably, laugh

and say no?”

Melanie’s expression softened. “Oh, no, Dev—”

“Yeah, that sucked. So, short answer long, no. I don’t really

miss my dad. He wasn’t a monster or bully. He just wasn’t much

of anything. I obviously didn’t want him to die, but I don’t feel

that much is missing from my life since he did.”

Melanie squeezed my shoulder with understanding. “I know

what you mean. I’m not very close to my parents either. I don’t

even think they know anything about me. Mom keeps asking

why Esmy makes me separate meals at dinner because she keeps

forgetting that I’m a vegetarian.”

“Are you serious?”

Melanie grimaced. “Sad, but true. So, don’t worry, you’re

not heartless. I get it.” Melanie paused and bit her bottom lip as

she studied me. “And for the record, you may not be athletic or

girly, but you are definitely pretty enough, smart enough, kind

enough, and talented enough for anyone who cares to notice. I

wish your father could have seen what I see.”

A lump formed in my throat and I flashed a quick smile

before staring at my toes wiggling under the water until I could

speak again.

• 68 •

Who I Am

With only a slight tremor in my voice I continued, “So,

anyway, Christmas may be a bit bleak this year and I’m not really

looking forward to it. I mean, my aunt and uncle are fine. I just

really don’t know them that well either.”

“Well, if you want a break, I’m formally asking if you would

like to come and have dinner with my family.” Melanie smiled

hopefully. “We have a Christmas tree and a menorah, so neither

holiday can get jealous.”

“And you want a humanist she-devil to join your celebration

just to even things out?”

Melanie laughed and said, “No, I want another humanist

she-devil there with me to even things out.”

I smiled and nodded, “Well, maybe I can sneak away for a bit

after our Christmas lunch. Anything will be better than hanging

around the dreariness that will be our holiday.” I paused for a

moment. “Wait, where will Jason be?”

“He’s going on a skiing trip to Big Bear with his friends.

Thank God. Even during the holidays I can’t stand him. Why do

you hate him so much? I mean, I know he was mean to you on

your first day of school, but now that we’re friends I think that

the worst he would do is ignore you completely. Which is what

he has been doing as far as I can tell.”

I paused, wondering how much I could say about Jason’s

actions toward me.

Melanie noticed the hesitation and sat up a little straighter.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Dev?”

“Well, he hasn’t completely ignored me.”

Melanie looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…well, he…came up to me. One day. After school.

But it was a couple of months ago, so it’s no big thing.”

• 69 •

m.L. RIce

Melanie’s expression morphed from confusion to concern.

“He just, you know, told me that he didn’t like me.”

Melanie tilted her head and waited for me to continue. When

I didn’t, she asked, “So, he just…told you he didn’t like you?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all?”

“Well…” I couldn’t lie to her now that I had stupidly brought

the subject up, but I definitely couldn’t tell her everything. “That

and that he didn’t want me…you know…hanging out with you…

and that I shouldn’t mention what he said to you or…I don’t know

what. I guess he…vaguely threatened me.”

“What?” Melanie yelled, sitting bolt upright in the hot tub.

“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I…I just didn’t want to upset you, I guess, or put you in

the middle. It’s no big deal. He’s mostly ignored me ever since,

just like you said. I think he was just acting like a protective big

brother or something.”

Melanie’s face was scarlet with anger and her eyes were

blazing with a fury I had never seen in them before. “How dare

he? God, he’s such a fucking dick. How dare he! Protective, my

ass!”

“Whoa, Mel! Calm down!” I held my hands up nervously.

Ignoring me completely, she continued, “Why does he give

a fuck who I hang out with? He’s never had a problem with any

of my friends before! What did you say back to him? Did you tell

him to fuck off? I hope you told him to fuck off. Please tell me

you told that asshole to fuck off and die!”

I sat with my mouth hanging open in wide-eyed shock at

Melanie’s tirade. I had never seen her even mildly upset, let alone

completely livid! I had also never heard her swear so much in one

• 70 •

Who I Am

sitting. I started to think that telling her even this much might

not have been the brightest idea in the world. I made calming

gestures. “It’s okay! I told him to leave me alone and that he has

no say in the friends that you choose. No worries!”

“And what did he say after that?” She was turning a violent

shade of red and I couldn’t help but wonder if the bubbles in the

water were being caused by her boiling anger rather than by the

built-in jets.

“Well, at that point some wrestling team guy walked by and

he just left. Please don’t say anything to him. He’s left me alone

for the most part, and if you say anything he may take it out on

both of us.”

Melanie’s demeanor became even more frightening as she

sat very still and said pointedly, “What do you mean, ‘for the

most part’?”

Crap. Me and my big stupid mouth. “Oh…it was…nothing.

He just poured spoiled milk onto all of my books. It was just a

stupid prank, really. I’m surprised he couldn’t think of something

better. Well, maybe I’m not that surprised,” I said with a forced

laugh.

Melanie’s quiet questioning continued. “That day that you

said you left the pint of milk in your locker. That was Jason?”

The edge of my mouth twitched nervously. “As much as I

can tell, I assume so. Listen, it was stupid. No harm was done. If

that’s all his threats amount to, I’ll consider myself lucky. It’s not

as bad as the time when I was in sixth grade and the other kids

held me down and cut off chunks of my hair and glued them to

my face. Really, Mel, please don’t make a big deal out of this. I’d

really appreciate you not telling him that I told you. I don’t want

him any more mad at me.”

• 71 •

m.L. RIce

Fuming, Melanie got out of the hot tub and wrapped a large

beach towel around herself. I followed suit. We ran into the

house to get out of the cold, but Melanie remained silent. We

went straight up to the second floor, taking turns drying off and

changing clothes, and eventually ended up sitting on the edge of

her double bed in our T-shirts and pajama pants, hands folded in

our respective laps and staring at our feet. I was too nervous to

speak, not knowing what was going through Melanie’s head. Did

she know I was a lesbian? Maybe she was noticing the things I

had feared that she would notice and would see that her brother

knew something that she didn’t. Maybe she would decide that

she really was better off without me and was deciding how to tell

me to leave. My rational mind knew that this probably wasn’t

the case, but for such a normally logical person I seemed to be

overanalyzing and second-guessing everything when it came to

my relationship with Melanie.

After what seemed like an eternity, Melanie said tightly,

“Fine, Devin. I won’t say anything to him about it, but if he says

anything to you ever again, you have to let me know. I won’t

stand for anyone insulting my best friend.”

My heart lightened at her use of the phrase “best friend”

and especially because of her vehement defense of me and our

friendship.

I sighed with obvious relief and said, “I will. But don’t worry

about it, really. I’ve been treated worse by other jerks in my life.

I’m kind of used to it.”

Melanie spun toward me. “Well, you shouldn’t be used to it,

and anyway, that’s not the point. You…you mean so much to me

and…well, I just can’t stand the thought of someone treating you

like shit. I don’t care if it’s my brother the asshole or a complete

• 72 •

Who I Am

stranger. I love you too much to see you hurt. Those other bullies

are out of your life now and I’ll be here for you no matter what. I

hope you can see that my opinion of you is…well, you’re the best

friend I’ve ever had and nothing will ever change that.”

I felt my jaw drop.

She loved me too much to see me hurt.

Those words branded themselves into my memory so

that I would never be able to forget them. Although hers was

a platonic love, a rush of euphoria washed over me and I knew

that I would cherish whatever kind of affection she could give

me. We looked at each other for a long time and I noticed a

hidden…something behind her eyes. Or maybe I wished there

were something hidden there. When my own eyes misted over

with emotion I reluctantly looked away, hoping that she hadn’t

noticed. Her warm hand covered mine, and she squeezed gently

as if to let me know that she had meant every word.

• 73 •

• 74 •

Who I Am

chApteR FouR

Christmas morning arrived and Mom and I exchanged

gifts in front of a small fake tree we had bought at a

garage sale. Mom opened her presents first. I got her yarn for her

new and surprisingly successful eBay scarf business and a used

DVD gift set of the movies of her favorite actress, Greta Garbo.

I received a book of trumpet solos, the soundtrack to the musical

Wicked, some new shirts and jeans, and a calendar of tall ships.

I could tell Mom was struggling with the holiday, so I tried to

cheer her up as best as I could by playing some Christmas carols

on my trumpet. Later, we relaxed and even lapsed into laughing

fits during a mini food fight while making and decorating cookies

to take over to Aunt Jessica’s, so all in all the morning went better

than I could have hoped.

We arrived at Aunt Jessica’s at around eleven o’clock, and

she and Uncle Sergio were gracious hosts. They had ordered food

for the meal from the local organic grocery store and it had arrived

ready to eat. They figured that there was no sense in slaving over

a hot stove if you could avoid it. Everything was excellent and it

was actually nice getting to know my own relatives a little better

• 75 •

m.L. RIce

in that short time. When we had stayed with them for the two

weeks after we first moved to L.A., I had kept myself cloistered

in my room most of the time. Now I could tell that they were

decent people, and even without my dad there, the feeling of a

true family Christmas was stronger than I had ever experienced.

After the surprisingly entertaining meal ended and more

presents were exchanged, everyone sat down to watch football.

I tried to tough it out for a couple of hours, but in the back of

my mind was the knowledge that Melanie was waiting for me

to join her. I know it was a bit selfish of me to want to be with

her instead of my own newly discovered cool family, but I didn’t

care. She was my world and she permeated every one of my

waking thoughts. The only doubt I continued to have about our

friendship was my constant desire to physically connect with

her. She would occasionally hold my hand or hug me, but it was

always in a friendly way and I wanted…no, I needed to touch her

in ways that were…well, more than friendly.

This was a painful area because I knew it would never

happen. I tried to be content with having her as my best friend

and not as anything more. I tried my best to save those wayward

thoughts for the times when I was alone, or just before I fell

asleep, hoping that Melanie would visit me in my dreams. But

sometimes thoughts of Melanie were tenacious, and up they

sprouted at the most inappropriate times. You know, like when

I’m celebrating Christmas with my family.

The second quarter of the televised football game ended and

the boring halftime report began. As I listened to the inane and

far too loud blathering of the sports commentators saying the

same thing over and over again and wishing for the thousandth

time that every network would broadcast a marching band show

• 76 •

Who I Am

instead, I reached my limit of patience and got up to tell my mom

that I wanted to go ahead and leave for Melanie’s house. I had

told her about the invitation a few days before and she hadn’t

minded my going over there as long as I spent some decent time

with the family first.

She was pleased I had finally found a true friend. I had never

had one before and she was clearly glad I wasn’t the same lonely

girl she had always known. I don’t know if she suspected my

true feelings for Mel, but I didn’t want her finding out. I couldn’t

know how she would react to the news that her daughter was a

lesbian. I had time on that front, though, and stubbornly pushed

the fear of her disapproval to the wayside.

I approached my mom sitting in a comfy armchair and when

I leaned down she kissed me on the cheek. We both smiled, and

her face held a glow that had been missing for the longest time.

Without speaking a word, I knew things might end up all right

after all. After profusely and genuinely thanking my aunt and

uncle for the Christmas meal and gift, I made my exit. Mom had

agreed to let me use the car since she was spending the night at

Aunt Jessica’s. The roads were abnormally clear for L.A. traffic

and I made it to Melanie’s house in no time.

I pulled into the driveway and was greeted by Esmerelda,

wearing a gaudy red sweater with yarn Christmas trees sewn all

over it, already holding the front door open for me.

“¡Feliz Navidad, mija!” She hugged me. She treated me like

one of her own since I stayed over so often. I was sometimes the

recipient of her well-meaning, yet stern lectures about cleaning up

after myself or eating properly. I appreciated being included and

understood why Melanie felt so much closer to Esmy than to her

own parents. Esmy took an active role in Melanie’s and Jason’s

• 77 •

m.L. RIce

lives, doing her best to mold them into useful and upstanding

citizens. Which was one of the reasons Jason’s behavior seemed

to bother her so much, I’m sure. I sometimes felt she had given up

on him, and that was why she had turned so much of her attention

onto me instead.

“Feliz Navidad, Esmerelda!” I hugged her back. I was about

to ask if I was too early when Melanie bounded down the stairs.

“Dev! Presents! Presents presents presents!” she yelled, a

huge smile on her face.

I laughed as she skidded into Esmerelda and me still standing

on the threshold.

“I’m stealing her, Esmy! We have to open presents!” She

grabbed my arm and started to pull me up the stairs.

Stumbling, I looked over my shoulder and said, “Sorry,

Esmerelda. Apparently these are some very impressive gifts!”

“You weren’t that excited to give me my present!” Esmerelda

yelled after Melanie as she fake-pouted.

“I’m used to giving you Christmas presents! Devin has

yet to be initiated to the wonders and pleasures of my holiday

generosity!” Melanie called back as we reached the top of the

staircase.

My face flushed at her words. The wonders and pleasures of

her holiday generosity? A sudden image burst into my mind…

Melanie in a short, red, fur-lined skirt and skimpy top with a cute

matching Santa hat, doing certain…um…things with her tongue

to a candy cane. I tripped over my own feet as we rounded the

corner. Melanie noticed my stumble, slowed down, and giggled

maliciously as she continued dragging me down the hall. We

reached her room and Melanie immediately shut the door behind

us.

• 78 •

Who I Am

I looked at her quizzically as I sat down cross-legged on her

bed.

“What? Oh don’t look so worried. I just don’t want Mom

and Dad to bother us during present time. Don’t worry, I didn’t

get you anything embarrassing like skimpy underwear.”

I flushed again, my brain hesitant to let go of the mental

image it had created in the hallway, but now it included me

dressed in something from Victoria’s Secret. Of course, as soon

as I thought of myself in something that revealing, the fantasy

crashed to a halt. I wasn’t so comfortable with my body, and the

thought of Melanie seeing me in anything less than a bathing suit

(which I always wore board shorts over anyway) was terrifying.

Her body was so…so perfect that I felt like a stubby little troll

next to her. She wasn’t too skinny, like an underfed supermodel,

but instead had gorgeous curves that filled her out perfectly and

made me want to…well, I’ll keep that to myself for now.

“What?” I replied with my lower lip stuck out in a decidedly

put-out way. “You’re offended by skimpy underwear? I guess I’ll

just have to take your present back to the Trashy Lingerie store

on La Cienega.”

“Oh, I’m not offended by them. I just thought that you would

be. I’ll wear your naughty little gift right here and now!” she said

jokingly as yet another inappropriate mental image sprang up,

causing me to blush again.

“Is Devin blushing? Aww. Okay, I’ll take pity on you, little

Miss Prudey McPrude.” she said with a wink. “This time.”

Before I could protest the Prudey McPrude comment,

Melanie pulled a wrapped box from under her pillow and jumped

onto the bed in front of me, watching my reaction as she bounced

slightly on her knees.

• 79 •

m.L. RIce

“Here. Skimpy underwear or not, I hope you like it,” she

said as she placed the gift in my lap.

“Well, if it’s not edible panties, I will be disappointed.”

For a moment I wondered if I had taken the joke too far,

but Melanie laughed. “See? I knew there was a wild girl in there

somewhere. She should come out and play more often!”

The box was about the size of the kind you would get from

a department store for a shirt or pants and I wondered at the

lightness of it. I tore into the penguin wrapping paper and when

I opened the box, I found a square envelope wrapped in tissue

paper taped to the bottom.

“Mel, I’m sorry, but I will not be able to fit my fat ass into

any lingerie that will fit inside of a little envelope.”

“Oh, stop being funny and just open it already!”

I pulled out the envelope and held it up to the light while

shaking it, making a big show of trying to figure out what was in

it just to irritate Melanie further. She was obviously happy about

whatever she had gotten me, so when she punched me in the arm, I

gave in and opened it. Inside was a postcard of Sleeping Beauty’s

Castle at Disneyland. Confused, I turned the postcard over and

saw only a few words written in Melanie’s slanted handwriting.

You. Me. Disneyland! New Year’s!

I looked up at Melanie, who was biting her lip in what

appeared to be a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“What’s this?”

“You’ve never been to Disneyland, which is an American

travesty by the way, so I bought us Two Day Park Hopper Passes

• 80 •

Who I Am

to both Disneyland and California Adventure for New Year’s Eve

and New Year’s Day! School will still be out and I want you to see

the park while the Christmas decorations are still up. It’s soooo

gorgeous. That and…” Melanie paused with apprehension. “I got

us a room at the Disneyland Hotel so we don’t have to drive home

and then back again on New Year’s Day. I hope that’s okay.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise by asking you first. I

just thought it might be a fun little mini vacation or something. I

didn’t ask your mom either. I hope she won’t mind. My parents

don’t care, of course, but I just assumed that your mom would

be cool with it too.” Melanie had started talking faster and faster

as I was basically lost for words. I think she began doubting that

she had gotten me a good enough gift. “I mean, if you don’t feel

comfortable staying in a hotel or if your mom doesn’t want you

to go I can cancel the reservations. I can’t really cancel the park

tickets, but I can figure out something to do with them. Someone

at school could buy them or something, so just let me know if you

don’t want to go. I can get you something else for Christmas if

this isn’t what you want. Just let me know if—”

“Mel!” I interrupted. “I love it! I think it’s a fantastic idea!

Of course I want to go! I’ve never been on a real vacation in my

life! We’ve only visited my family out here once, like I told you,

and other than that we just traveled from base to base.” My eyes

welled with tears and my smile fell.

“What’s the matter?” Melanie asked. “Are you sure you like

it?”

“Yes, yes, I’m totally sure. It’s just that…” I took a deep

breath. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like

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m.L. RIce

seriously, the nicest thing and…and I couldn’t get you anything

that even minutely compares.” I hung my head and looked at the

postcard lying in my hands. “This is all I have for you.” I handed

her the gift that I had placed next to me on the bed.

Melanie took the box and reached over to tilt my chin up.

She looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Dev, before I open

this, I want you to know that you could have come in here with

a torn-up shoe wrapped in a zip-lock bag and I still would have

loved it because it’s from you. Hell, you didn’t have to get me

anything at all! I just wanted to bring a little bit of magic into

your life. You’ve had a really tough year and you’ve fought your

way through it. Your father dying, your mom being depressed,

moving to a new city, and I’ve seen how much you’ve grown in

just the time that I’ve known you from an introvert into a much

more confident and downright kick-ass chick. You’ve helped me

with S.A.E.P. more than anyone else even offered to, and we’re

becoming a real organization now thanks to your involvement.

You’ve actually got friends in school even though you swore that

no one would ever like you. Your grades are the best they’ve ever

been, and I remember how mopey you were for your first weeks

here.”

“Okay. Getting embarrassed now.”

“I just wanted to get you something to congratulate you on

making it through. Not only making it through, but flourishing.

I’m so proud of you and I want you to be able to go out and

just have some real fun. With me there to have fun with you, of

course.” Melanie smiled and I leaned my head into the palm of

her hand as she wiped away the single tear that had slowly made

its way down my cheek.

• 82 •

Who I Am

“Oh, just open your damn present, then, you big cheese

ball,” I said as I sniffed and wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

“You got it.”

Melanie patted my face and then opened the poorly wrapped

box that I had given to her. I’d given her a homemade Harry

Potter–style Gryffindor scarf from my mother (to match my

Ravenclaw), a mix CD of my favorite Broadway songs, and a

book of collected poetry by American women writers that I had

found in mint condition at a used bookstore down the road from

my apartment.

“Oh Dev, I love everything! How could you think I

wouldn’t?” She wrapped the Gryffindor scarf around her neck

and opened the book to peruse some of the poetry. After a few

minutes of leafing through the pages she stopped, smiled, and

read a poem by Emily Dickinson aloud:

One Sister have I in our house,

And one, a hedge away.

There’s only one recorded,

But both belong to me.

One came the road that I came—

And wore my last year’s gown—

The other, as a bird her nest,

Builded our hearts among.

She did not sing as we did—

It was a different tune—

Herself to her a music

As Bumble bee of June.

Today is far from Childhood—

• 83 •

m.L. RIce

But up and down the hills

I held her hand the tighter—

Which shortened all the miles—

And still her hum

The years among,

Deceives the Butterfly;

Still in her Eye

The Violets lie

Mouldered this many May.

I spilt the dew—

But took the morn—

I chose this single star

From out the wide night’s numbers—

Sue—forevermore!

She closed the book gently and leaned forward to pull me

into a hug. We held each other in silence and I enjoyed the feel

of her strong back under my hands and the pressure of her chin

on my neck. When she pulled away, my heart sank at the loss of

warmth.

“You’re amazing, Devin Kelly. Don’t you ever forget that.”

She smiled and squeezed my hand. “So. What do you want to do

until dinner?”

Again, the ideas that sprang to mind were not ones that I

could necessarily speak out loud, so I replied, “Do you really

think I’d come over without my bathing suit? My vote is for the

hot tub!”

v

• 84 •

Who I Am

I spent the night at Melanie’s house after stuffing myself

full of a second Christmas dinner with her family. Her mother

started chugging the wine at seven o’clock and was drunk by

eight. Despite this, the evening was fun and full of loud debate

about which films should be nominated for the Oscars or which

charities were the most worthwhile. The only uncomfortable

part of the night was when Melanie’s father (also a bit drunk

by this point) decried the rise of homosexuality in the film and

television industry. Melanie’s mother tried to persuade him

that it had always been there, but was more hidden because of

societal norms at the time. She seemed more open to alternative

lifestyles, but I knew she would never be at the forefront of a gay

rights movement. Despite being affluent Los Angeles moderate

liberals, an undercurrent of bigotry still ran beneath the surface.

Although I had tried to keep my face passive as he announced

his disgust with shows that featured gay or lesbian characters, I

noticed Melanie casting cautious glances my way. We had never

discussed homosexuality outright, but I knew Melanie was the

most open-minded person I had ever met and she was friends

with plenty of gay kids at our school. I caught her eye at one

point and she made an apologetic face, obviously embarrassed

by the behavior of her family. I shrugged and tried to smile back

as if it was no big deal.

When we were getting ready for bed after dinner, Melanie

tried to explain. “They’re really not that bigoted most of the time.

Alcohol makes them say things they don’t really mean.”

“Whatever. I’ve heard people say worse.” I tried to change

the subject by starting a halfhearted pillow fight, but it was clear

we were both sort of going through the motions. At least I knew

where Jason’s prejudice came from. Fathers probably told their

• 85 •

m.L. RIce

sons a lot of things they wouldn’t tell anyone else. Had to make

sure their boys wouldn’t succumb to any undesirable way of life.

There’d be hell to pay if they found out that they had fathered

a homo! They could handle any situation life might throw their

way, but please, oh please, don’t let there be a fag in the family!

v

The next morning I awoke and headed back to my apartment.

Aunt Jessica was dropping Mom off that night, but I wanted to

tidy up the kitchen before she got back. She didn’t need any

more work after what I knew had been a trying holiday. As I

approached the front door, I noticed a large colorfully wrapped

box with a card taped on top waiting for me. I couldn’t, for the

life of me, think of anyone who would send me a Christmas

present. Well, no one that I hadn’t seen the previous day anyway.

An inexplicable wave of extreme unease washed over me and I

approached the box cautiously.

The envelope on top had my name printed on it in a messy

scrawl, and I nervously picked it up and opened it. The card

featured a small white Persian kitten wearing a too-large Santa

hat and inside were written the words: Merry Christmas DIKE!

Love, Melanie.

Jason had obviously decided to play evil Santa before

heading out to hit the slopes, and I was the unfortunate recipient

of his “generosity.” Despite the ice that suddenly formed in the

pit of my stomach, I wryly thought how stupid he was to think

I would fall for such an immature prank. If Melanie was going

to act completely out of character and viciously insult me, she’d

damn sure at least spell dyke correctly.

• 86 •

Who I Am

I should’ve just thrown the box away, but morbid curiosity

got the better of me. I carefully tore the wrapping paper and

opened the shoddily taped cardboard. I stood well back in case

something dangerous sat inside ready to spring out, but when

nothing happened I peered over the edge to see what was inside.

The urge to vomit hit me instantly. Inside lay a dead and

very bloody tabby cat that had been hit by a car or had seen the

wrong end of a fiercely swung baseball bat.

I closed my eyes and turned away, fighting tears that were

stinging my eyes. I stumbled inside the apartment and sat on the

couch for a few minutes, stunned and trying to collect myself.

As soon as I could, I walked calmly to my bedroom to find the

shoe box in which I normally kept my nicest oxford shoes. I

stopped by the hall closet to pick up my mom’s gardening gloves

and spade, knowing what I had to do. Melanie could never know

about this particular incident.

• 87 •

• 88 •

Who I Am

chApteR FIve

My heart thumped as Melanie and I pulled up to the

parking valet for the Disneyland Hotel in the early

morning of New Year’s Eve. I had always wanted to visit the

park, but had never had the opportunity. After the unfortunate

incident with Jason’s Christmas present, I’d distracted myself

by delving head first into the Disneyland website to find the best

things to see and do. It gave me something else to concentrate

on besides the pity I felt for the dead cat as well as for myself.

I was now fully informed about what the parks had to offer and

eager to get started on my first real vacation, short as it was

going to be.

After checking into the hotel, Melanie and I ran to the

entrance gates and waited for the park to open. She had assured

me that getting there right at opening was the only way to

go, especially during the busy holiday season when the lines

promised to be long. When we were finally admitted into the

park we passed under the tunnel to Main Street and I noticed

Melanie watching me, gauging my reaction. What she saw must

have been a look of pure childlike wonder and overwhelming

excitement. I had seen pictures and videos of Disneyland, but

being there in person was something else altogether.

• 89 •

m.L. RIce

The Christmas decorations were still up and the street

sparkled with ornaments and lights. Children, teenagers, and

adults alike wore Mickey ears and broad smiles, rushing down

the street to be first on the ride of their choice. The smell of fresh

waffle cones, popcorn, and cinnamon permeated everything, even

at this early hour, and I felt like I had stepped back in time into a

utopian world of color and happiness. Yes, I cheesed out a little

and became a two-year-old, but I couldn’t fathom a more perfect

place than where I was at that moment. I also couldn’t imagine

experiencing it with anyone other than Melanie.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Mel, this is awesome. This is just…so cool!”

Melanie laughed, and I shrugged at my inarticulate

description of my feelings.

We continued toward the center hub and only stopped briefly

to have our picture taken in front of the castle. Melanie yanked

me toward what turned out to be Critter Country. She swore that

the best thing to ride first was Splash Mountain, so as to avoid

the never-ending line that would form later in the day. It was also

unseasonably warm for winter, even in Southern California, so

a water ride didn’t seem as offensive as it would have if it were

colder.

Mel was right. Splash Mountain was the single best start to

a day at Disneyland.

As we exited the ride, dripping wet and laughing hysterically,

Melanie commented on the transparency of my white shirt by

quipping in a false Southern accent, “Why, Miss Devin Louise

Kelly, I do believe you wore that color on purpose to garner the

depraved attentions of all of these nice people!”

I continued laughing as we walked, but reddened and tried

• 90 •

Who I Am

in vain to cover up the front of my soaking shirt as a group of

middle school boys who had heard Melanie’s comment gawked

as they passed. Melanie giggled at my shyness and teased, “Oh

come on, flaunt it, girl!”

“I don’t have much to flaunt!” I replied.

“Oh please, what you have is just perfect.” Melanie stopped

suddenly, looking slightly embarrassed, then continued more

quickly, “I mean, I have too much in… that area… and I’d be glad

for what you have any day.”

I looked at her incredulously and she finally said, “Right.

Okay, so let’s go ride the Matterhorn before that line starts

overflowing too.”

Melanie grabbed my hand and pulled me along in her wake,

walking briskly toward the large snowcapped mountain near

the center of the park. It wasn’t the most efficient plan as far

as park coverage, but it seemed to work in our favor. When we

approached the ride, the line was still fairly short. We queued up

and waited for a brief time, and when it was our turn to board our

bobsled, I realized with a jolt that the seating arrangement in each

car called for two people to sit together in one seat, somewhat…

intimately. Since Melanie was taller, she sat in the rear, leaving

me to squeeze into the small space between her legs. I tried my

best to play it cool, as if having her practically wrapped around

me was the most normal and innocent thing in the world. After

all, everyone else had to do it, and I had seen several ride vehicles

embark on their short trip with other squealing and laughing girls

in the same situation.

As Melanie settled herself in, she looked at me with a nervous

smile and a small twitch in the corner of her mouth. Figuring she

must be uncomfortable, I sat down and tried to position myself

• 91 •

m.L. RIce

as far forward as I could, not wanting to intrude too blatantly

into her personal space. However, her knees were still pressed

firmly against my hips and I had to tear my concentration away

from the fact that I was seated squarely between my gorgeous

friend’s thighs.

We buckled ourselves in and I soon found that it was almost

impossible to keep from sliding back against her during the

turbulent ride. As the coaster continued its journey through the

steel mountain I realized that trying to restrain my backward

progress was a futile endeavor, so back I slid to rest firmly wedged

between Melanie’s legs. I couldn’t turn my head around to say I

was sorry, but I knew that it was probably for the best. Drawing

attention to my self-consciousness would only emphasize the

fact that I found the situation to be something more than harmless

fun. Much to my surprise, however, as soon as I relaxed a bit

Melanie wrapped her arms around me, holding tight and laughing

as we sped around hairpin turns, dropped down sudden dips, and

eventually coasted to a stop at the end of the ride. I stood, a mixture

of relief and disappointment inside my gut as I stood and exited

the bobsled. Relief that she had found nothing suggestive in what

we had just experienced, and disappointment in the knowledge

that this was the end of one of the only opportunities I would ever

have to be in such a provocative position with her.

We spent the rest of the day running from ride to ride until

we had to head back to the hotel before dinner to take a short

catnap. Melanie had told me that we’d need to be wide-awake

at midnight to watch the special New Year’s Eve fireworks. The

parks had started to get increasingly crowded and we knew,

during the rest of the evening, it would be a fight to get into any

attractions at all.

• 92 •

Who I Am

Melanie had reserved a basic room with double beds at the

hotel, but it overlooked the Never Land pool and was nicer than

any hotel room or apartment I had ever stayed in. Not only that,

but sharing a hotel room with Melanie, despite how many times

we’d spent the night at each other’s houses, made me feel like we

were play-acting at being a couple. My own imagination, maybe,

but the impression felt completely right. I gave myself a little

leeway to bask in it while I could.

Melanie drew the curtains to block the lingering sunlight and

we both lay down in our respective beds. I had already discovered

that Melanie tended to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the

pillow whereas I always took a while to drift off. I guess that’s

the difference between someone with a clear conscience and no

concerns as compared with a more worried person, namely me.

After twenty minutes or so, I rolled onto my left side to look

across at her, and sure enough, her breathing was slow and steady.

She was lying on her right side facing me, and some of her hair

had fallen across her face. I longed to smooth it aside with my

fingers and brush my lips across the perfect skin of her cheek.

I took my time gazing at her relaxed features in the dim light,

pretending that there might be a time when she would love me

the same way I loved her. If that time ever came, nothing in the

world could hurt me again. A smile formed on the edges of my

lips and, just then, Melanie awoke and looked directly at me. I

knew that I had been caught staring and the grin on my face must

have looked out of place and suspicious. Luckily, Melanie just

smiled back at me sleepily and yawned. “Did you get any sleep

at all?”

“No.” I replied. “I guess I’m still too excited. I can sleep

later tonight.”

• 93 •

m.L. RIce

Melanie suddenly looked nervous again, as she had on the

Matterhorn, but tried to cover it up with another yawn as she sat

up and rose to her feet. To my surprise she approached me since I

had yet to move from the bed, and she brushed the frizzy strands

of hair from my face, much as I had wanted to do with hers only

a moment before. I looked into her eyes and noticed a look of

determination had replaced the nervousness. Her warm hand

remained on the side of my face and she began gently stroking

my forehead and along my eyebrow with her thumb. I almost

moved my own hand to cover hers, thinking for a crazy moment

that I could press her palm to my lips. But as soon as I formed the

thought, she moved her hand away and I was left with only the

lingering sensation of her soft touch.

“Well, c’mon then, lazy. I’m starving!” she said with a

dramatic clutch at her stomach.

I sat there for a few seconds before moving. Had I imagined

that whole intense moment between us?

v

She had made dinner reservations for us at the Blue Bayou,

situated inside the Pirates of the Caribbean attraction. It was

dark and inviting, and if you tuned out the occasional screaming

child it felt as if you were sitting in a fancy open-air restaurant

somewhere in the backwoods of Louisiana. We took our time

eating and enjoyed the quiet, the excellent food, and each other’s

company. It did seem to me that Melanie was getting more fidgety

and silly as the evening progressed, however. During dessert I

asked her what was up, but she just laughed and said she was just

having a great time, excited about New Year’s.

• 94 •

Who I Am

We spent the rest of the night before the fireworks waiting

in line for Space Mountain, riding the train around the park

because our feet hurt too much to walk anymore, drinking

espresso mochas to stay awake, and splitting a heavenly churro

sundae while seated cross-legged, staking out our place in front

of the castle for the New Year’s show. As midnight approached,

loudspeaker announcements let us know that the festivities would

begin shortly.

“So, a new year is about to start. How do you feel?” Melanie

asked in between bites of ice cream.

I clumsily wiped the stray cinnamon off of my lips and

answered, “Well…I can honestly say that this has been the hardest

and the best year of my life, so I have mixed feelings.”

“The hardest I understand, but the best too? Glutton for

punishment, are we? I have to remember to bring my whip next

time,” she replied with a smirk.

“You know what I mean.” I mock glared back. “Losing my

dad and uprooting my life to the terrifying world of Beverly Hills

was difficult.” I paused, not wanting to sound overly sentimental

and also not wanting to give too much away. “It was the best year

of my life because…well, because I met you. There. I said it. So

sue me for sounding schmaltzy.”

I laughed to take the emotional edge off the statement,

hoping that I didn’t sound too pathetic.

To my relief, however, Melanie smiled. “Me too. I mean,

I’m sorry you lost your dad. Of course I am. But I can’t help

but feel a bit guilty because I’m glad it brought you out here.

Will you promise me that whatever happens we’ll always stay

best friends?” Her inexplicable nervousness had returned, and I

couldn’t figure out why.

• 95 •

m.L. RIce

“Yes! Of course! I mean, what could happen that would

make me not want to be with you?” The lights in the park

dimmed suddenly in preparation for the fireworks. Thank God,

because a deep heat suffused my cheeks after that Freudian slip.

It was true, though. Nothing would make me want to ever leave

Melanie’s side. It was the thought of her wanting to leave that

kept me up at night. Despite how open Melanie was, I couldn’t

help but worry…if she ever found out my true feelings for her,

would she be the same person with me? Or would our friendship

as we knew it be over?

Apparently Melanie missed my unintended sexual innuendo

and replied, “Good. Now then, let’s celebrate the new year at the

happiest place on Earth!” The crowd around us had all begun to

stand and we joined them.

The prerecorded message then began over the speaker

system: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, in just a few ticks

of the clock we will ring in the new year together.” And then

later, “Please join us as we count down to the new year!”

The countdown began and Melanie reached over and took

my hand. I glanced at her, but she was staring at the castle while

yelling out the numbers with the rest of the mass of people,

waiting for the first fireworks to light up the sky. I continued the

countdown myself and when we all reached “One!” in unison,

bright white streamers of light shot straight upward and the

celebration began. A fully orchestrated choral version of “Auld

Lang Syne” started to play and everyone, Melanie and I included,

sang along and swayed happily, occasionally letting out an

“Ooooh” or “Wow!” in between words. When the song ended, a

medley of Disney music took over and the fireworks continued

for another five minutes.

• 96 •

Who I Am

When it was over and everyone around us was hugging and

cheering, Melanie turned to me and saw that I had tears in my

eyes.

“Did you like it?”

I couldn’t find my voice to answer right away and I couldn’t

think of words to describe the way I felt anyway, so I pulled her

into a tight hug and whispered simply, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” We held on to each other for a few

seconds more and then she took a deep breath and broke away.

“Come on. I have another surprise for you.”

v

It took a while to work our way through the throng of people

out of the park and back to the hotel. When we arrived at the

room I went into the bathroom to take a quick shower and change

into my pajama pants and T-shirt. When I came out, Melanie was

standing in front of the table in the corner and she was biting the

corner of her lip with nervous excitement.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I told you I had another surprise!” She moved to her right

so that I could see what was on the table behind her. There was a

bottle of champagne chilling in one of the hotel ice buckets, and

next to it sat a plate of strawberries.

My eyes widened. “Melanie, the perfect angel, brought

alcohol for two underage high school students to drink?” I said,

brightening up.

“Yes, I did. It’s New Year’s, after all! We have tons of the

stuff at home. Mom and Dad will never know it’s missing.”

I crossed my arms and smirked at her. “I never knew you

• 97 •

m.L. RIce

were such a rebel. I have been a bad influence on you! Where did

you get the strawberries?”

“I packed them in my bag and hid them in the refrigerator

when you weren’t looking this morning.”

“Excellent.” I paused, waiting. “Well?”

“Well what?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well…start pouring, you lush!”

We set up an impromptu picnic on top of Melanie’s bed

and poured the champagne into the hotel glasses. I found that

strawberries and sparkling wine actually did go well together,

like it says in all the books, and I was enjoying myself immensely.

We started drinking at around twelve thirty, and by one a.m. I was

starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Melanie and I became

increasingly goofy, giggling uncontrollably at the smallest and

most insignificant things.

With a slur I asked, “So, where did you get the idea for this…

this champagne and fruit thingy?”

Melanie answered more slowly and deliberately than usual,

trying to make the words clear. “I saw it in that movie, Pretty

Woman. It seemed like a good idea and I wanted to celebrate the

start of a new year properly. I’m usually at home asleep or I’m

with friends who just want to drink and watch the bands on the

New Year’s Eve TV shows.” She paused. “So, have you ever had

alcohol before?”

“Not much. Just a sip of wine here and there. Although my

dad used to offer me some of his soda and when I’d take a big

swig I’d realize that he had whiskey in it. He thought that was

hilarious. I learned to smell any drink he offered after that.” I

watched Melanie laugh. “What about you?”

“Some, but not much. Mom drinks all of it before I get

• 98 •

Who I Am

the chance! Ha!” Melanie laughed loudly at her own joke until

someone banged on the hotel room wall.

“Shhhh! You’ll make the neighbors mad!” We paused and

then burst into gales of hysterical laughter all over again.

After we calmed down and the giggle fits faded, we began

to feel mellow. The strawberries and champagne were gone, and

we were leaning back against the pillows we had placed in front

of the headboard. I felt more carefree than I had in a while, and I

tilted my head over to rest it on Melanie’s shoulder and thought,

again, about the champagne surprise.

“So, you got the idea from Pretty Woman, huh? What does

that make me? Your two-bit lady of the night to do with as you

please?” My eyes were closed and I grinned at the thought.

Melanie was quiet for a moment and then sat up suddenly.

As my head lost its support I wobbled before catching my

balance and sitting up straight.

“Oh, sorry.” She turned to face me. “But I have something

to tell you. That’s one of the reasons for the champagne, actually.

I may need it to…”

She paused and I stared at her blankly.

“Remember that you said you would be my friend no matter

what?”

“Of course, Mel. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Melanie looked as if the words stung.

My nerves kicked in as her uncharacteristic anxiety started

to rub off onto me. “Why? What’s going on? Am I not a good

friend?”

“No! I mean yes, you are. You’re an amazing friend! That’s

why I’m asking. What if…what if you found out something about

me that you didn’t like?”

• 99 •

m.L. RIce

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mel. I like

everything about you. I love you!” The words were out of my

mouth before I knew that I had spoken them. My eyes widened

and my fuzzy thoughts snapped back into sober focus. I quickly

tried to smooth over my features, hoping that she would interpret

the comment as innocent despite how much I truly meant it.

Melanie sat for a moment, her eyes misting, and then said

in a quiet whisper, “That’s just it, Dev. I love you too. I love

you more than anything or anyone and I…I just wanted you to

know.”

I waited for her to say something more, but when she looked

down at her hands folded in her lap I knew that she had said the

thing that she had been dreading all day. My heart began to beat

more and more fiercely, wondering if she meant what I thought

she did. Would she be so afraid of me walking out on her if she

had just meant the love of a best friend or sister? Would she be

sitting mere inches from me on the verge of tears?

The longer I sat there in silence, trying to rationalize every

part of the conversation and trying to stifle the hope that was

blooming in my chest, the more upset Melanie became. Probably

thinking that her worst fears were coming true. I realized as she

began trying in vain to fight the tears running down her cheeks,

that she had just bared a hidden piece of her soul to me. A piece

that she thought would end our friendship, out of disgust or

unease or anything else.

Even if I was wrong, I decided that if she could take such

an obviously terrifying step, then it was time for me to do the

same.

“Hey. Hey, don’t cry,” I said softly. I reached out and tilted

• 100 •

Who I Am

her head up and made her look me in the eyes. She sniffed and I

said, “Nothing you can say or do will ever scare me away.”

“Maybe…maybe you don’t understand what I just told you,”

she said with a tremor in her voice.

She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but I

abandoned all doubt and inhibitions and leaned forward, taking

her face gently into my hands, and I kissed her.

The world swam and my body soared and all sensation was

concentrated on the feel of her soft lips pressed firmly against

mine. At first she remained motionless in what I assumed was

shock, but the spell soon broke. She wrapped her arms around

me, holding the back of my head, and returned the kiss whole-

heartedly. She kissed me fiercely and desperately, squeezing me

tighter and tighter as if she felt that I would float away. I moved

my arms to embrace her as well and we tried to pull each other

closer somehow knowing, without really knowing, that it would

never feel close enough. It was the first real kiss for us both and,

although it was clumsy and awkward, I’d have sworn there had

never been a kiss in history that meant more.

Our passion heightened as we began to explore each other’s

lips and I thought I would die from the elation in my chest. My

body felt on fire, and I was afraid that I would ignite us both in an

immolation of pure desire.

Melanie pulled away after a moment, leaving my lips cold

and bare.

“Wow, Dev. You too?” she asked breathlessly.

A little low on oxygen myself, I replied, “Ever since I first

laid eyes on you. I was too afraid to tell you.”

“I know how you felt,” she said sheepishly. “I was so afraid

• 101 •

m.L. RIce

of losing you, but I just…I just couldn’t stand one more second

of you not knowing. I had to risk everything to get this off my

chest.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us had the guts to say something.”

I smiled genuinely. “And that’s one of the many reasons that I

love you. You’ll always be the brave one, and I adore everything

about you.”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the side of

Melanie’s neck. She gasped. I trailed feather-soft kisses down

toward her chest and she trembled beneath my fingers. I pulled

back, hoping I hadn’t gone too far. Thankfully, though, Melanie

took the opportunity to push gently on my shoulders until I lay

flat upon the bed. As she pressed her body against mine, the doubt

and sadness that had plagued her only moments before had been

replaced by a new, wicked twinkle in her eyes.

• 102 •

Who I Am

chApteR sIx

I awoke the next morning to a stream of sunlight shining

directly onto my face through the small crack in the

curtains. I squinted and went to move my left arm to shield

my eyes, but I realized it was being held down by something.

Confused, I turned, and adrenaline shot through my body. Melanie

lay on my shoulder facing me, her leg draped over mine and her

arm stretched across my stomach.

Euphoria exploded in my chest as I remembered the events

of the previous night. Because we were new to the whole intimacy

thing, we hadn’t taken it very far but had merely basked in the

physical closeness we’d both been secretly craving. I still couldn’t

believe Melanie really did love me the same way that I loved her.

It didn’t seem possible. The fact that someone as wonderful and

perfect and amazing and beautiful as her could have feelings for

someone like me was baffling.

I realized with relieved modesty that we were still clothed

under the sheets, but I started to feel the twinge of a bruise on my

lips and sensitive spots on my neck and chest where Melanie had

explored. I grinned stupidly remembering what she had done to

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cause the soreness. I also knew that when she awoke she’d have

the same marks and aches as I did, and the thought made me

giddily happy.

Her face was too close to mine to see properly, but her

mouth was slightly open and her hair was more mussed than it

usually was in the morning. I shifted slightly to pull my arm out

from under her and she made the most adorable little sound I’ve

ever heard—half sigh, half protest. If my heart had been full of

Melanie before, it was now close to bursting. Once my arm was

free I leaned over and placed the softest of kisses on her cheek.

Her forehead furrowed for a moment, but her features soon

relaxed, and she rolled onto her back.

Her eyes drowsed open and she slowly focused on my face.

When she recognized me and saw that I was leaning over her,

smiling, her eyes widened. I knew she had just remembered the

details of last night, as I had done not so much earlier. For a split

second, my smile faltered. Could her confession of love just have

been the champagne talking? And just like that, a more heart-

rending fear grabbed me.

What if she regretted what she had said and especially what

we had done?

It would be the end of our friendship for sure.

She would never be able to look at me the same way after

last night.

Needless to say, relief flowed through me when Melanie’s

lips lifted in an embarrassed, but very pleased smile.

“Hey,” she said, blushing for the first time I could

remember.

“Hey,” I said back, the stupid grin fully restored to my face.

“Um…that was some night.”

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Who I Am

“Yeah, it was. You’re…you still mean what you said,

right?”

“Yes! Of course!” She hesitated. “You do too, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah. Every word. Every kiss.” This time it was my turn

to redden. “That was cheesy. Sorry.”

Melanie reached up to cup my head in her hand and pulled

me down into a gentle and loving kiss. Although it was softer

and more delicate than the contact of the night before, it still sent

shivers down my spine.

We stayed in bed curled around each other for another hour

or so, but finally Melanie said, “Dev, I could stay here forever,

but we do have tickets to the parks for today.”

“Don’t care.” My voice was muffled because I had my lips

pressed to the back of her neck.

In a singsong voice she replied, “But we haven’t ridden

Tower of Terror yet! C’mon! Tower of Terror! Oooooooh.”

“Mel, I’ve been fighting my hormones by not pouncing on

you every day since we met. You can’t expect me to want to give

it up so soon!” I pinched her butt as I said it.

She yelped and swatted at me playfully. “I’ll let you hold

my hand!”

I sighed dramatically and said, “Okay, fine. I’ll go back to

this magical land of yours. It’s okay…I guess.”

“Oh, stop being such a drama llama.”

After another long kiss, we got up reluctantly, showered

(separately), got dressed, and headed over to California Adventure

to complete what had turned out to be the single most important

and blissful couple of days in my entire life. Melanie was true

to her word and held my hand whenever she could, regardless

of how many people were around. The confidence she exuded

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m.L. RIce

in everyday life apparently included not worrying about what

people thought about two girls holding hands in public. On the

contrary, she positively glowed with pride and happiness.

I, on the other hand, darted furtive glances at passersby,

looking for any signs of disapproval. I didn’t see any, but I still

worried. Even with my annoying self-consciousness, however,

the feeling of being loved and knowing that I had someone to

love back filled every ounce of my being, and I bounced on happy

clouds until it was time to head home to Los Angeles.

v

The traffic was predictably terrible on the drive back, but

that gave us time to talk.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do we keep all of this a secret? Are you going to

tell your parents?”

Melanie paused for a moment. “Why? Do you want to keep

us a secret?”

“Well, it’s just that I’m not so sure everyone is going to be as

happy about it as we are.”

“Oh, Dev, I think that you don’t give people enough credit.

I’m friends with all sorts of people at school. I don’t care about

their sex lives or how much money they have or what religion

they are or anything stupid like that.”

“You don’t, but I’ve seen some real ugliness in the past, and

I’m just concerned about how we’ll be treated.”

“This is California, though. It’s not like we’re a red state or

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anything. People are pretty open-minded here, at least in the big

cities.”

“Not everyone is open-minded.” I paused, wondering if I

should even bring it up. But I had to. “Even your dad complained

about gay people at Christmas, remember? And that’s not even

mentioning Jason’s very obvious opinion.”

“Oh, screw Jason. He has no right to judge me or tell me

how to live my life. It’s not like he can change anything anyway.

He can’t stop me from loving you and he can’t make me not be

a lesbian…Wow…I’m a lesbian. I hadn’t really thought about

it like that before…Cool! Anyway, he can’t make me not be

a lesbian, so even if he says something I’ll just ignore it like

usual.”

“The thing is…he actually scares me, Mel.”

“What? Why?”

I’d opened the door on this one. Still, I hesitated, measuring

my words. “I never told you because I thought I’d run you off…

but that second time he confronted me, he called me a dyke. And

obviously that’s the real reason he didn’t want me hanging out

with you.”

Melanie drove on without speaking, and I could tell that

she was trying to keep her anger in check. Finally she said,

“Well, I can handle Jason, and if it worries you so much, then

I won’t tell anyone. But just so you know, I’m not ashamed of

you. I’m not ashamed of us. If it were up to me, I’d barricade

myself in the principal’s office and shout out over the school’s

loudspeaker, ‘I love Devin Kelly! Devin Kelly is super hot!

Devin Kelly is a fantastic kisser! I want Devin Kelly to jump on

top of me and—’”

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m.L. RIce

“Okay! Okay!” I interrupted before she could make me blush

harder. “I get the point!”

After a minute or so of silence I bit back a smile and asked,

“I’m a fantastic kisser, huh?”

v

We pulled up to my apartment at ten o’clock and sat in the

car just out of range of the light of a street lamp.

“So…” I said, not wanting to leave Melanie’s company.

“So,” she said, not wanting to let me go. “I hope you had a

good time.”

I looked at her with incredulity. “Um…yeah, you could say

that!”

Melanie’s face lit up and we leaned toward each other

hesitantly, not knowing if physical contact was allowed out in

public.

“Oh, screw it.” I leaned across the seat and kissed her

firmly.

When I pulled away Melanie’s lips followed mine back until

she could stretch no farther. She released a little groan as we

broke contact, and I saw feverish need in her eyes.

“Geez, Mel,” I said, unable to hold back a giggle.

“Well? I just want to…you know. I’ve wanted to do that for

such a long time!”

“I know. Me too. But I do have to go see Mom. She’ll want

to know about the trip. And no,” I said, forestalling her, “I’m not

telling her about”—I gestured my hand between us—“this. Not

yet anyway. I don’t know how she’ll react.”

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Who I Am

Melanie looked a little sad at this, but I told her, “Listen,

I know we’ve both been wanting this for ages, but the whole

relationship thing, not to mention lesbian thing, is all very new

to me and I need to internalize it before I run around waving a

rainbow flag. I need to have time to…you know…feel my way

around.”

Melanie smirked and made a decidedly evil face. It took

me a moment to catch up with her train of thought, but when it

clicked I rolled my eyes and smiled despite my mock outrage.

“Naughty!” I said as I wagged my finger at her. “Anyway,

I’ll call you tomorrow. I really can’t begin to thank you enough

for what you’ve done to me. For me, I mean!”

Melanie smirked again.

“Even without…last night. This little trip is still the nicest

thing anyone has ever done for me and I had the best time of my

life. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Melanie squeezed my hand. “I love

you.”

A huge smile broke out on my face. “I love you too.”

I got out of the car, tightness forming in my chest as I

separated myself from her and the physical distance between us

grew. I walked up the stairs to my apartment and when I opened

the door, I heard Melanie’s car pull away and I had to stop myself

from looking back. Mom was eating microwave popcorn and

watching a police car chase on the news.

“Hi, honey,” she said, as I sat down on the couch next to her.

“So tell me, is Disneyland really the happiest place on earth?”

I nodded and couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my lips.

“Yeah, I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

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m.L. RIce

Clueless, Mom beamed at me. “I’m so glad you found such

a good friend like Melanie.”

If she only knew.

v

I called Melanie as soon as I woke up. I had dreamt about

her all night and couldn’t wait to see her again. We had one more

week until school started again, and now that Melanie and I

were, you know…me and Mel, I wanted to make every second

count. Esmerelda answered the phone and told me Melanie was

still asleep, but she’d received strict instructions to tell me to

come over to the house if I called. I thanked her and immediately

jumped out of bed to go see my girlfriend. The fact that I had

a girlfriend suddenly hit me and I felt like singing and leaping

around my bedroom like a lunatic.

Mom was in the kitchen making coffee when I bounded out

and headed for the front door.

“I’m going to Melanie’s,” I hollered.

Mom came around the corner and peered at me, leaning her

head against the doorjamb. “So early, Devin? You two just spent

the last two days joined at the hip.”

I gulped.

“We have to get started on a new S.A.E.P. project before

school starts, Mom. That’s all.”

Her skeptical look told me she didn’t believe a word of my

lame explanation, and I tried my best to look innocent. But I

knew that she suspected something.

“Well, you’ve hardly been home. But tell Melanie hello and

that I fully expect to see her here for dinner in the next few days.

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Who I Am

Since you haven’t told me all the fun details about Disneyland,

I’ll just have to grill Melanie for the information.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks to avoid smiling. “I’ll let her

know.”

When I arrived at Melanie’s house, Esmerelda was there to

meet me at the door as usual.

“Buenos días, Devin.” She positively beamed at me.

“Morning, Esmy.” Wow, she seemed inordinately happy to

see me.

“Melanie is in her room. She thought you might be coming

by,” Esmy added with a wink. I’d never seen her do that before.

With an awkward smile, I edged my way past her to the

stairs, glancing back over my shoulder to see her gaze following

me upward, the enormous grin still on her face. Odd.

I knocked quietly on Melanie’s door and heard no response.

She’d expect me to enter anyway, so I opened the door and found

Melanie sound asleep on her back, her head turned away from

me. The dark curtains were drawn and very little light streamed

through, making the walk to her bed a shadowy maze because of

the clothes and shoes strewn all over the floor. Within seconds, I

banged my knee on the edge of her desk, hissing a sharp intake

of breath at the pain. Off balance, I tripped over the backpack

Melanie had taken with her to Anaheim and landed stomach-

first with a bounce on the edge of her mattress, winding up on

my knees next to the bed. Melanie sprang upright into a seated

position.

“I don’t want to go to OU!” she yelled, her bleary focus

barely on me. I immediately broke into laughter, and that pulled

her out of her dream state. She blinked a few times, then said,

“Devin! You’re here early!”

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m.L. RIce

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm my fits of giggling. “I

called when I woke up and Esmerelda said that you wanted me

to come over.”

“No, that’s okay. I did want you here. I do!” She smiled and

gave me her hand to help me up off of my knees. “I had a terrible

dream about not getting into Stanford. My parents tried to send

me to the University of Oklahoma! Ok-la-ho-ma!”

I laughed again, knowing that Melanie’s academic aspirations

were something she took very seriously. “Don’t worry, Mel.

You’ll get into any school you want. And by the way, you’re a

total nerd for dreaming about that.”

“I know, but guess what?”

“What?”

Melanie pulled me forward and placed feather-soft kisses

along my jawline, making me shiver. “Mel! This is your house!

What if Esmerelda walks in?”

“She won’t care. She understands,” she said between

kisses.

It all started to make sense. As my breathing hitched I asked,

“Is that why she looked at me funny this morning?” Much to my

disappointment Melanie stopped kissing her way toward my lips

and looked abashed.

“Promise you won’t be mad, Dev.”

“Okay, but…what did you do?” I asked nervously.

“Nothing bad, really! But…well, you asked me not to tell

my parents…” At my stricken look of fear she added, “And I

haven’t! I won’t. But…I did tell Esmy.”

“You what?”

Melanie grabbed both of my hands in hers and pleaded, “I

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Who I Am

couldn’t stand not telling anyone! I’m just so happy! Besides, she

knew something was up.”

For a second, embarrassment overtook me. I covered my

face with my palms. “Oh my God.”

“No, it’s okay. I can’t hide anything from her. She can read

a lie from a mile away! When she asked me what had changed, I

just had to tell her.”

I ventured a grimace at Mel. “Well? What did she say?”

“Obviously she was stoked. I think the fact that I’ve fallen

in love with someone she adores made her day! She knows you

make me happy and she actually told me to treat you right and to

not let you get away.”

I warmed from the compliment. “Fine, but she’s not going to

tell anyone, is she?”

“Not unless I tell her she can. She knows that this is

something I’ll have to tell my parents myself. They always ask

me when I’m going to find a boyfriend, and I just pretend school

is too busy for me to think about a relationship.” She rolled her

eyes. “Boy, are they in for a surprise!”

“Weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The fact that we’re…well… girlfriends. When I kiss you I

think, ‘Wow, I’m kissing a girl!’”

Melanie giggled. “Is that bad?”

“Oh, hell no! I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just…

interesting,” I said.

“Well, let’s see just how interesting we can make it,” she

said, leaning back and pulling me on top of her.

“Mel,” I protested.

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m.L. RIce

“Shh. Just kiss me.”

I obliged.

v

I spent the remainder of winter break with Melanie. We

were inseparable. We’d trade off spending the night at her house

and at my apartment. At her place, we’d lock ourselves away in

her room, timidly exploring the limits of our attraction, while at

my apartment, we’d stay up into the wee hours eating takeout

Chinese food and pizza and watching old romantic comedies

with Mom. I think she might have caught Mel and me sneaking

clandestine hand-holds every once in a while, and, okay, I did

tend to sit rather close to Melanie. But Mom never said anything.

I knew that I’d have to tell her sooner or later, but I think the

cowardly part of me hoped she’d figure it out on her own and

save me the trouble.

By the time the second semester of my senior year rolled

around, Melanie and I were madly in love, to the point that we

lamented the times when our class schedules separated us. All

in all, though, I knew that this was going to be the happiest five

months of school I’d ever have, thanks to Melanie. I would never

be able to truly thank her properly for the difference she had

made in my life. But I planned to show her my gratitude every

chance I got.

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chApteR seveN

Acting as if nothing had changed between us while we

were in public proved more difficult than I anticipated.

Even without blatant displays of affection, it seemed that the

lovelorn looks we snuck at each other during class did not go

completely unnoticed. The first person to catch on was our gay

friend from the drama club and S.A.E.P.

As we ate lunch alone at a corner table one day, Melanie said

simply in between bites of cheese pizza, “Phillip knows.”

My head jerked up. “What do you mean Phillip knows? How

can he know? Did you tell him?” I sounded frantic.

“I didn’t say a word! He can just tell. He has that…gaydar

thing or something. It was actually funny. He just walked up to

me last period and said, ‘Okay, out with it, girl,’ and I said, ‘Out

with what?’ and he said, ‘Out with you!’ and I said, ‘What do you

mean?’ and he said, ‘Please. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you

and Devin making googly-eyes at each other ever since school

started back up. So talk. I want the dirty details!’”

“Oh no. What did you tell him then?”

“Well, I didn’t go into ‘dirty details,’ if that’s what you

mean, but there was no use trying to deny that you’re my

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m.L. RIce

girlfriend now. He knows better. And besides, if there’s anyone

we can trust with something like this, it’s Phillip. He’s as gay

as the day is long and knows not to say anything around other

people if we don’t want him to.”

“Okay then, but don’t tell anyone else! The next person may

not be as open-minded.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “I won’t. But it’s not because I

don’t want to!”

“I know, I know. Just bear with me for a little while.” I

lowered my voice. “I guess we need to be a little more careful

about how we act around each other. People aren’t as blind as

we think they are. Lord knows I want to throw you up against

the lockers and furiously…you know…between every class, but

maybe we need a little self-control. At least at school.” I smiled

and flicked condensation from the side of my cup of soda at her

with my finger.

“Fine. If I promise to stop batting my eyes at you here,

will you promise to make it up to me in full later?” she asked

innocently.

I grinned back wickedly. “What do you think?”

v

The rest of January passed in a blissful haze. Classes were

going really well, I was enjoying the symphonic music of concert

band, and the orchestra had invited me, Melanie, and a few

more of the better wind instrument players to join them for their

contest pieces. I was madly in love, and Jason had dropped out

of school completely. Apparently he had been asked to play his

guitar in a heavy metal band started by one of his loser friends

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Who I Am

and he swore to his parents that they were going to make it big.

The adult Parkers hadn’t agreed with his decision, but doting on

him like they did, they had promised to support him monetarily

until he could support himself. I never saw him anymore and had

therefore received no more threats or pranks. Melanie and I were

thrilled at the turn of events.

As far as our relationship was concerned, a few more people

at school had noticed the change in our behavior, but they were

open-minded friends from band and the S.A.E.P. No one seemed

to have a problem with it and many even pulled one or both of

us aside to tell us how happy they were to see us together as a

couple. Knowing the way gossip spreads around teenagers, I was

pretty sure that most of the school would know soon anyway.

Judging by reactions so far, I started thinking coming out might

not be as difficult as I’d expected.

Bolstered by the congratulatory nature of our friends’

reactions, I decided that I really did need to tell Mom before the

news reached her some other way. The prospect of her disapproval

scared the hell out of me, but she was my mom and she deserved

to know the reason for my happiness. I told Melanie one day

at the end of January that I planned to come out to Mom that

night. I had it all figured out. I was going to make pasta for dinner

and give her a glass of wine or two, just to make sure she was

nice and calm. Melanie offered to be there with me for comfort

and strength, but I knew that this was something that I needed

to do alone. She wished me luck by giving me a full and knee-

trembling kiss in the girl’s bathroom as I was about to catch the

bus for my ride home.

When I arrived at my apartment I saw Mom’s car parked out

front. This meant that she was already home from work, ahead of

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schedule. Darn, so much for pasta and wine. I could think of no

excuse to delay our talk.

I climbed the stairs, trying not to imagine myself as the

proverbial dead man walking, and reached for the door, my hand

trembling. I turned the doorknob and took a deep breath before

I stepped inside. “Hey, Mom.” I smiled. “Do you have a few

minutes to talk?”

v

“Well?” Melanie asked when I met her in the band hall the

next morning.

A broad smile spread across my face and Melanie said, “So

it went well?”

“It did. Turns out she already knew.”

“How did she know?”

“Well, I guess we just weren’t as secretive about it as we

thought. I mean, she’s known me my whole life, obviously,

and she saw the change in my moods and personality. Being

around you makes me a completely different and happy person.

Obviously that’s hard to hide. That and I think she noticed the

way we sat so closely together on the couch.” I laughed.

“So she’s fine with it? I don’t have to worry about being

hunted down and having my head mounted on the wall?” Melanie

asked with apparent relief.

“Not at all. I mean, I think she’s a tad bit uncomfortable

with it. She said she’s never known a lesbian before, not outright

anyway, but that anyone who makes me this happy and treats me

so well is okay in her book. She asked me not to…you know…

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make out with you around her or anything, but I forcefully told

her that would not be a problem.”

Melanie laughed, and then we had to take our seats as the

band director entered the room. I watched Melanie in the French

horn row across from me, and she had a relieved smile on her

face. I knew that I had been scared to come out to my mother, but

I hadn’t realized how the possibility of Mom’s disapproval had

affected Melanie. She wanted my mom to like her, obviously,

and not consider her a “bad influence.” I wondered if I would be

as lucky with her parents. My joy plummeted to my feet and a

heavy rock of anxiety formed in my stomach. What would I do if

Melanie’s parents hated the thought? Would I be allowed at their

house anymore? Would they punish Melanie?

I ordered myself to stop with the pessimistic thoughts, that

everything would be fine. I mean, Mom’s fairly conservative,

and I had been worried that she wouldn’t approve. But it wasn’t

a problem. Melanie’s parents were Hollywood socialites who

mingled with a diverse cross-section of society. They were more

likely to be liberal on the gay issue, despite what her dad had

said at Christmas. Men were usually much more comfortable

with the idea of lesbians than gay men, right? I took comfort in

this thought, starting to trust that the hardest part was over. Now

that I knew Mom wasn’t going to kick me out of the house or

something else equally awful, anything else would be easy.

v

Later that week, while snuggled up together in Melanie’s bed

after a fruitful S.A.E.P. meeting where Melanie had spoken with

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student reps from other high schools about their own chapters, I

asked Melanie what we were going to do after we graduated.

“What if we don’t get into the same university? My SAT

scores were really good, and my grades have definitely been even

better than usual this year, but I just don’t think it’s possible for

me to get into Stanford.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Your entrance essay was

really excellent. I think they’ll take notice. You’ve had such an

interesting life, and from what I hear they tend to like things like

that…as long as you can prove to them that you’re devoted to

learning. Your essay showed that you are, so try not to worry.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that I’ll get in either.”

I made a noise like I didn’t believe that at all.

“Well, even if I do and you don’t it just means that we’ll

have to do some sort of…long-distance thing.”

I hugged her tighter.

“I know,” she said, “I don’t want to be apart from you either,

but no matter what happens I promise we’ll make it work. No

distance can stop me from loving you.”

“Thanks. Me too…but with you.” We both giggled.

“Anyway, I think I have to go anywhere where I can get some

financial aid. I’ve applied for a music scholarship at every

school. I just hope I’m good enough.”

“Oh, you’re good enough. I love listening to you play. I play

like a high school band nerd, but you play like you live for it. I

think you could play professionally with some good training.”

“I do like it more than just about anything else. But anyway,

to change the subject, I know you want to tell your parents about

us, but I’m…I’m just really nervous. I don’t have a good feeling

about it.”

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Melanie paused. “Is this because of Jason? You know he’s

hardly ever around anymore. From what the grapevine tells me,

he spends more of his time stoned out of his mind than rehearsing

or playing gigs with that collection of tone-deaf assholes he calls

a band. I don’t know why Mom and Dad still give him money. If

I did something like that they’d cut me off without a cent and tell

me to screw my head on straight. It’s so not fair.”

“Yeah, but you’re worth more than ten thousand Jasons, and

you’re going to make the world a better place while he’s just a

waste of space. And yes, it is somewhat because of Jason. If you

tell your parents, they’re sure to tell him, and we both already

know that he’s not particularly on board with the idea.”

“I don’t care. He can’t do anything about it.”

“I don’t know. He scares me. I think he can be dangerous.”

“Oh, he’s all bark and no bite. But you know that I’ll

respect your wishes. All I ask is that you start thinking about the

possibility of me telling my parents. They’re going to figure it

out eventually and I don’t think they’re going to care. The only

person whose opinion I respect is Esmy’s, and she’s already given

us her blessing.”

“I promise that I’ll get some courage, somewhere. Just…

don’t do it yet.”

“I won’t.” Melanie snuggled in closer to me and we soon fell

asleep in each other’s arms.

v

I reached the much-coveted age of eighteen on February

second, and we celebrated by going over to my aunt and uncle’s

house with a small group of my best friends, Mom included. The

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evening was filled with music and BBQ in their backyard and it

was undoubtedly the happiest birthday ever. I had never had so

many friends show up at a party before, and when Mom told me

to check the driveway at the end of the night, I didn’t know what

she meant. Until I looked. She bought me my own car! It was a

used, but still fairly new-looking, red Toyota Corolla with a large

bow placed on top, just like in those cheesy commercials. She

said since I was going off to college soon, she wanted to be sure

that I’d drive home to visit as much as possible.

I hugged my mom extra tight, and I made sure to take mental

snapshots of all the beaming faces around me, knowing I could

hold on to this moment when things got me down. When the

party was over, Melanie and I thanked my aunt and uncle and

said good-bye to our friends and then went home with Mom to

relax in front of the television for an hour or so before heading

off to bed. In the privacy of my room, Melanie reached into her

ever-present backpack.

“Close your eyes,” she said, her hand still hidden.

I made a dramatic sigh and did as she asked.

“Hold out your hands. Oh, don’t be so scared, I promise it’s

not a spider or something.” Knowing about my almost debilitating

fear of spiders, she playfully wiggled her fingers in my palms as

if they were arachnid legs. I squeaked involuntarily, and as she

laughed I opened my eyes to glare at her.

“That’s not funny, Mel! I’m the birthday girl. You totally

have to be nice to me today!” I play-pouted.

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She continued giggling, so

I continued to glare. “Phew. Okay. I’m done. Now. Please close

your eyes and hold out your hands again.”

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I looked at her with uncertainty, but eventually did as she

asked. This time I felt a solid square object in my palms and

opened my eyes to see a blue box wrapped with a perfect white

ribbon from Tiffany and Co. My eyes went momentarily out of

focus because never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I

would be the recipient of something in the famous blue and white

box. A sudden flash of images popped into my head of the scene

from the movie version of Annie when she is presented with a

similar gift and inside is a new, unbroken locket from Daddy

Warbucks. With trembling hands I slowly loosened the ribbon

and pulled off the lid. Inside was a sterling silver necklace chain

with a Tiffany 1837 dog tag–style pendant hanging from it.

I was utterly speechless.

“I wanted to get you something special since turning eighteen

is such an important birthday. I also know better than to get you

something too girly, so…fancy dog tag it is.” She shrugged

happily.

“Mel, it’s perfect. I can’t believe you keep doing this.”

“Keep doing what?”

“Every time I think you’ve been the nicest you could possibly

be to me, you go and do something even nicer.”

“I just want to show you how much I love you. Now shut up

and put it on.” She smiled, obviously pleased with herself, and

fastened the chain around my neck.

I thanked her in a very physical way.

Afterward, it took me forever to go to sleep because of the

excitement of the day, but when Melanie rolled over to stretch

her arm and leg across me, I was at peace and fell swiftly into

happy, soothing dreams.

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m.L. RIce

v

For Valentine’s Day our school held an informal costume ball.

Everyone knew it was the precursor to the senior prom, except

that all students were invited to attend instead of just members

of the senior class and their dates. Melanie and I debated about

whether or not to go. She, of course, wanted to go as a couple

and parade me around on her arm as the dashing young knight

to her regal princess, whereas I wanted to go out to a movie

and then order a pizza at home. We ended up compromising and

bypassed the ball but went to a production of As You Like It

performed by the all-female cast of the Los Angeles Women’s

Shakespeare Company and then to dinner at a late-night diner

where our friends met us after they left the dance.

At the end of the evening we went back to Melanie’s empty

house. Esmerelda had taken a rare trip down to San Diego to visit

her cousin, and Melanie’s parents were at a Valentine’s Day fund-

raiser for some local orphanage and were sure to be gone until the

wee hours of the morning. If history proved anything, they would

come home drunk and sleep until well beyond noon the next day.

This happened so often, I had no idea how they were able to work

and make money at all.

As we entered Melanie’s dark house through the garage, she

told me to wait for her in the kitchen. Confused, I did as I was

told and soon Melanie returned. She carried a lit candle in an old-

fashioned candleholder and said nothing as she drew me along

behind her up the stairs. However, as we reached her door she

turned to the right to face the door to the bathroom instead. She

remained silent, just looking at me. I felt the faintest tremble in

her hand just before she turned the doorknob.

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My first thought was that the room had somehow caught on

fire. Then I noticed tiny candles in small glass holders burning

softly on every surface in the room. Melanie’s bathroom was

about the size of my whole bedroom and included a large Jacuzzi

tub as well as a separate shower. The majority of the candles

flickered lazily around the tub. Shadows danced on the walls, a

sweet and relaxing fragrance hung in the air, and in the dim light

I could tell that the bathtub was full of steaming water topped

with a mound of bath bubbles. A bottle of champagne sat chilling

in a bucket next to the tub alongside two glasses, and Brandi

Carlile’s voice drifted dreamily from an iPod connected to a set

of portable speakers near the sink.

I realized that my jaw was hanging open stupidly and I

snapped it shut, looking at her with wide-eyed amazement.

“Well? What do you think?” she asked, an uncharacteristic

waver in her voice.

“Mel, this is…this is beautiful! I don’t know how you think

of these things. I haven’t done one special thing for you, and here

you are just…just blowing my mind over and over again.”

Melanie smiled shyly and said simply, “You’re worth it.”

I pulled her into a tight hug and she said quietly in my ear,

“You don’t have to…you know…get in with me…if it makes you

uncomfortable.”

Although baring my body completely and soaking in a

bubble bath with Melanie would definitely take our physical

relationship to the next level, I could think of nothing else in the

world that I wanted more. I pulled away from the hug to plant a

trail of kisses down the side of her neck and was rewarded with

a soft moan from her parted lips. A foreign feeling of boldness

overtook me and I pulled her soft, form-fitting sweater over her

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m.L. RIce

head. Melanie gasped as the chilly air from the hallway made

contact with her body. I dropped the sweater to the floor, eager

to free her from her remaining clothing. When everything was

discarded I took my time in tracing every inch of her back and

stomach with the tips of my fingers, the effects of the chill

obvious on her skin.

Melanie shivered and whispered, “I’ll take this as

approval?”

I answered without words, putting my lips to use elsewhere

as I kicked the door closed behind me.

We heard Melanie’s parents come home at around two a.m.

while we were in bed continuing the adventure we had begun

in the bathtub. We remained as quiet as possible, obviously not

wanting them to come up and check on us, but soon the house

grew quiet. We both exhaled relief and smiled in the darkness,

feeling naughty and sneaky.

If I had imagined myself baring myself completely to

Melanie only a month before I would’ve been a self-conscious

wreck. However, the romantic environment Melanie created made

me feel completely safe, and I knew that I would do anything in

the world to please her. Instead of dwelling on the doubts I had

about my physique, I was able to revel in the smoothness and

intriguing reactions of her body while at the same time enjoying

the surprising responses of my own. Melanie obviously had

no problems with the way I looked and, in fact, seemed just as

entranced with my body as I was with hers. Despite our clumsy

lack of experience, every second was bliss and every touch was

new, stunning, and beautiful.

We tired ourselves out by four a.m. and lay in a sweaty tangle

of sheets, breathing quickly and still latched onto one another. I

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Who I Am

suddenly laughed out loud. Melanie seemed to understand and

began to giggle herself. Soon we were laughing uncontrollably

until our stomachs hurt. When the fit subsided, we drifted into an

exhausted but satisfied sleep and didn’t wake until the afternoon

of the next day.

• 127 •

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chApteR eIght

February turned into March and our relationship was as

passionate as ever. How we got any homework done,

I’ll never know. The other chapters of the S.A.E.P. had gotten off

the ground so quickly that a countywide committee had formed

to work on new projects. This gave Melanie time to take a step

back and just oversee the groups without having to do all of the

work herself. Concert band didn’t take up too much of our time

because, unlike marching season, we didn’t have after-school

rehearsals or football games to attend and only had to practice at

home every once in a while. This left more free time than usual to

spend alone with each other and we made every second count.

At the end of March we got to go on spring break, and for

the band students that meant it was time for the annual band trip.

I’d never been on one with my base schools, so I didn’t know

what to expect. I was amazed to learn that every year, most high

school bands took a trip to a music festival somewhere in the

U.S.: Disney World or Disneyland, New York, or even skiing

in Colorado. While there they would attend music clinics and

perform for tourists or even band judges and composers.

Our band director decided on San Diego, where we would

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perform at and get to run around in Sea World. Many of the students

were extremely disappointed with this choice, considering we

lived so nearby. Most of them had already visited both the city

and Sea World. But it was new for me and, because we didn’t

have to fly down, we were free to drive instead of having to cram

onto another smelly band bus. The only catch was that the band

needed more parents to fill in as chaperones since several of the

adults who had planned on going decided that they had better

things to do. The idea hit me that Mom would probably enjoy

a little vacation, even if it included having to watch over wild

high school kids. When I asked her if she would be interested she

positively lit up.

Mom, Melanie, and I piled into my Corolla for the drive

down a day early so that we could make more of a holiday out

of it. Our first stop was in Long Beach so that I could tour the

Aquarium of the Pacific and stay for one night aboard the famous

ocean liner turned hotel / tourist attraction, the RMS Queen Mary.

Mom and Mel both knew of my love of all things nautical, but

not until they saw my glazed eyes and my giddy excitement as

I ran about the decks of the art deco steamer like a five-year-

old on a sugar high did they truly appreciate the depth of my

obsession. They humored me while I pointed out different parts

of the ship as if I had lived there my entire life and spouted off

random facts that I had learned from all my reading. We shared

one small interior stateroom that night and in the morning began

our drive south.

When we reached San Diego, we joined up with the band at

a hotel near Sea World. Melanie and I shared a room with two of

our friends while Mom had been paired with another, very tired-

looking single mother of an extremely rambunctious sophomore

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tuba player. That day we spent our time at the hotel, swimming

in the pool, playing sand volleyball, and running around being a

general nuisance to the other visitors. Normal teenage stuff. At

night we all took the buses to a cute little seaside shopping area

where we bought T-shirts and candy and split up to eat dinner at

one of the many local restaurants.

After getting back to the hotel, despite the curfew set by

Ms. Peacey and the assistant director, we ran up and down the

halls having water balloon fights until the other guests finally

complained to the hotel management and the harried chaperones

had to spend the better part of an hour getting all of the students

corralled and back to our respective rooms. When the four of us

were finally locked in for the night I decided that I just couldn’t

go to sleep without my usual good-night kiss from Mel. Under

the very believable guise of needing her help to brush a stubborn

tangle out of my frizzy hair, we closed ourselves in the bathroom

to wrap around each other. Afterward, we decided it might be

wise to place a pillow between us while we slept just in case

we unconsciously fell into our nighttime habit of spooning each

other.

The next day was easier for the directors and chaperones

because we got up early and went directly to Sea World. We spent

the morning warming up and rehearsing in a backstage room,

then at noon, we got to perform in a pavilion outside for anyone

who cared to stop by and listen. We actually drew a pretty good

crowd and, much to my surprise, I received a standing ovation

for my trumpet solo in our final piece.

With our performance over we were free to roam the park

at will until closing. Melanie had been there before and took me

to the best shows first to make sure I wouldn’t miss anything.

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m.L. RIce

Mom had really connected with her roommate and they spent

the day walking around together, keeping an eye on the students,

and learning that they were both widows of husbands who’d had

heart attacks. I was glad to know that I had unwittingly brought

them together. I hoped they’d keep in touch.

Although I loved the rides and especially the animals, I admit

watching the extremely cute women in their Sea World wetsuits

was a trip highlight. I mentioned this to Melanie (out of earshot

of our friends who were with us) and she smiled and nodded

vigorously. I watched one of the scuba divers cleaning a tank and

decided, then and there, someday I’d get certified myself and put

my water-baby tendencies to better use.

We spent the next day at Sea World too, but the day after

that, the band went home while Mom, Melanie, and I spent an

extra two days in San Diego to go to the famous San Diego Zoo,

Old Town, and the San Diego Maritime Museum. By the time the

trip ended, we were all exhausted, but we agreed that it had been

tons of fun and a good bonding experience for the three of us.

v

With spring break over, the annual band contest in the bag

(we won top marks), and only prom, the end of the school year,

and our college acceptance (or rejection) letters to look forward

to, we decided now was as good a time as any to tell Melanie’s

parents about our relationship. We planned it on what turned out

to be a foul and rainy Sunday night at the end of April. I looked

out the window at the uncharacteristic L.A. rain and hoped that

wasn’t a bad omen for what was to come.

Melanie had asked me to be with her for the big event, so

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Who I Am

I ate dinner with the family, barely able to swallow as I tried

to hide my nervousness. Like I had planned to do with Mom,

Mel lubricated her parents with red wine before the discussion

began.

Finally, the moment arrived.

Mel told them that she wanted to share some news and asked

them to take a seat in the living room after dinner. We had already

discussed the whole thing with Esmerelda and she made sure that

she remained nearby to lend whatever support she could.

Once everyone was seated, her parents fidgeting in the two

armchairs and Melanie and I on the couch facing them across the

coffee table, Melanie began talking first about her college plans.

Sadly, Melanie had done all of the research and applications to

schools on her own. Her parents were under the assumption that

she would be going to UCLA because that’s where they had gone

and they had never asked her if she wanted to go anywhere else.

They had grown her college savings enough so that it would

fund her education all the way through her doctorate if need

be and maybe they figured that that was all they had to do for

her. I suppose they didn’t feel that their parental duties extended

to moral or emotional support. That’s why it seemed perfectly

reasonable for Melanie to want to have a sit-down discussion

with them about her future.

Her plan of attack had been to transition from the fact that

she would most likely be going away to college instead of staying

in L.A., to the idea that I would be coming with her wherever she

went. Since we had applied to the same schools, she figured that

even if she got into one and I didn’t, surely I would get accepted

into another school somewhere within at least an hour or two

drive.

• 133 •

m.L. RIce

Trying to keep the conversation light, she began, “So. I

need to tell you guys something and I really hope that you’re

understanding about it. I need your support and I want you to

know that this is really important to me.”

“What is it, Melanie?” her mother asked, focused more on

her wineglass than the question.

“I’ve decided that I want to go to Stanford, but…”

Melanie’s father interrupted, “Oh, is that what this is about .

I was afraid you were going to tell us you were gay or pregnant

or something!” He laughed raucously. “You scared your mother

and me to death!”

I could literally feel the blood drain from my face and I felt

like I was going to pass out.

Melanie faltered. This was not what either of us had

anticipated. “Uh…well, yeah. No. I mean…this is about…”

Mr. Parker’s laughter subsided.

Melanie looked helplessly past her parents at Esmerelda

standing in the archway to the foyer. Esmy smiled back kindly

and motioned for her to continue. “Well, what I meant to say was

that I’ve decided to go to Stanford, but even if I’m not accepted,

I’m going to go somewhere where Devin will be nearby.”

Melanie’s parents stared blankly and then, as one, turned

their heads to look at me. I yearned to shrink and disappear into

the couch cushions, but tried my best to sit up straight and look

friendly, yet dignified.

“Mom…Dad…” Melanie took a fortifying breath. “I’m a

lesbian. And Devin and I are in love.” She reached out and gently

held my hand while I tried not to crush hers.

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on for hours as

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Who I Am

both parents sat immobile, expressions of growing displeasure

and disappointment on their faces.

I opened my mouth to say something that I hoped would be

reassuring, when all of a sudden we heard the front door open in

the foyer beyond. The sound of the pouring rain grew louder as

whoever had arrived stepped inside and then was muffled just as

suddenly when the door clicked shut.

Esmerelda looked over her shoulder to see who it was and

I saw her eyes widen before she shot a look of fear at Melanie.

Before she could say anything, Jason Parker sauntered into the

room, dripping wet and looking like hell. His eyes were bloodshot

and he had a few days’ growth of stubble on his cheeks. It was

obvious to everyone in the room that he had been drinking and

was also high on some drug.

My worst nightmare.

The elder Parkers barely even noticed Jason’s disheveled

appearance before turning their attention back to us. Jason had

made eye contact with them first and then followed their gaze to

Melanie and me sitting silently on the couch. He slowly looked

down and saw my hand in his sister’s. Out of the corner of my

eye I noticed Esmerelda take a small, protective step into the

room, as if to better position herself between the couch and what

she perceived to be a threat to us.

“What’s going on?” he slurred.

Melanie’s parents looked at each other and then her father

said, “Melanie has just told us that she’s a lesbian, Jase.” All eyes

continued to bore into us. This was going so much worse than

anything I had imagined that I couldn’t fathom how anything else

could go wrong. My whole body shook with tension.

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m.L. RIce

Jason’s eyes flashed fire at me and he took a menacing step

forward. Esmerelda jumped in front of him and said, “Sit down,

Jason. Now!”

Without taking his empty, angry eyes off of me, he easily

swept her aside with his arm, knocking her into a large antique

cabinet with a force that made both Melanie and me wince. The

glass and porcelain inside rattled and I heard a few pieces shatter.

Esmerelda appeared to be uninjured, but the hurt and shock in

her eyes broke my heart. Melanie stood and stepped in front of

me. “Jason!”

“Get out of the way. You don’t have to protect this dyke,”

he growled.

“How dare you! How dare you speak about her like that!”

Melanie yelled back.

“She’s corrupted you, Mel! I knew it from the moment I first

saw her! She’s an ugly fucking dyke who’s trying to ruin your

life!” Jason looked from Melanie back to me. “Get the fuck out

of our house, you little whore!”

Melanie’s parents stood.

Mrs. Parker held out her palms. “Jason, calm down! This

has come as a shock to all of us, but I really don’t think that kind

of language…”

“Shut up, Mom!” Mrs. Parker looked taken aback. “How can

you stand having such a perverted piece of shit in your house!

You’re all such fucking idiots! If you don’t get her out of here I

will!” Jason stalked toward me.

I scrambled to my feet behind Melanie’s protection and said

with a quavering voice, “Jason, I know you’ve never liked me,

but I really do love Melanie. I’m a good person, whether or not

that drugged up, bigoted mind of yours can see it.”

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Who I Am

“Get the fuck out of my house!” He screamed the last word

and lunged toward me. Melanie slowed him down, but he pushed

her aside as I leapt backward over the couch. I heard Mel hit the

coffee table with a sickening thud and noticed as she sat up that

there was a trickle of blood on her forehead.

Rage roared like an inferno inside me and I screamed,

“What are you going to do, Jason? Kill me like you killed that

poor cat you left on my doorstep at Christmas? Are you really

going to hurt your own family?” I motioned toward Melanie,

still dazed on the floor with her head in her hand. She was trying

to look at me. I hadn’t told her about the cat, and she now looked

horrified.

Esmerelda had gathered herself again and she ran across the

room to grab Jason by the arm, trying to pull him away. She was

much smaller than he was and it didn’t do much good, but I took

the distraction as a chance to edge my way around the room and

head for the front door. Melanie’s parents still stood dumbstruck

and ineffectual, and hadn’t made a move to help Mel or stop

Jason. Melanie stumbled to her feet and wobbled back and forth.

I looked at Melanie’s parents, wild-eyed and terrified, pleading

silently for them to do something to control their son.

Something shook Mr. Parker out of his shock and he stepped

around the coffee table and grabbed Jason’s other arm.

“Let me go, Dad!” yelled Jason.

“Son, calm down! You’ve been drinking and you’re

overreacting. Look what you did to your sister.”

Jason, being younger and more athletic than any of the

adults in the room, crouched down, pulling Esmerelda and his

father with him, and then stood suddenly and threw both of his

arms backward, pushing Esmy and his dad off balance. His father

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m.L. RIce

fell backward over the coffee table next to Melanie. Mrs. Parker

screamed and knelt by her husband’s side. Jason spun toward

me and I bolted for the door. He crossed the room in a flash and

the force of his body colliding with mine knocked me down. I

stumbled into a nearby low table, keeping me from landing on

the ground, but Jason grabbed me around my neck and yanked

me upright.

He turned me to face him, squeezing my neck so tightly

that I began choking. I must have been turning purple. Panicked,

I clawed at his hand with my fingernails, but it did no good.

His grip was like a vise. In the back of my mind, I registered

someone screaming for him to let me go and felt his body vibrate

as something struck his back and arm repeatedly, but his mean

eyes never left mine.

As the room started to darken in my vision, he said with

quiet fury, “I don’t ever want to see you near my family again.

If I do, I will kill you.” He shoved me away and I gasped for air,

nearly falling to the floor.

Before I could get a decent breath, he gripped my upper arm

and dragged me to the front door. A pained gasp tore from my

throat as the door opened and a rush of cold wind hit my face. In

a split second, I was thrust outside, the icy rain soaking through

my clothes. Jason dragged me, stumbling, down the walkway I

had once so greatly admired to the edge of the street. Melanie

was right behind Jason, still crying and screaming for him to let

me go. Their parents and Esmerelda brought up the rear, yelling

words I couldn’t make out through the rain, Mel’s screaming, and

the fear roaring in my ears.

When we got to the street, Jason threw me forward as hard

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as he could and, still wheezing, I landed face down sprawled on

the curb.

“Get the fuck out of here!”

I got to my knees but made no effort to leave because I

couldn’t stop coughing. I fought to catch my breath. Jason leaned

forward and slapped me across the face as hard as he could,

sending me rolling off of the curb and into the street. A loud

shriek and bright lights exploding behind my eyes combined, and

I wondered if the noise had come from me or from Melanie. I was

curled up in a heap of sodden pain and misery and the world spun

as I grappled to regain my senses.

Melanie was by my side in an instant, wailing and pulling at

me to stand up. My vision was fuzzy, as were my thoughts, but

I could hear her mumbling nonsense phrases about everything

being okay. She kept saying she was sorry. Behind her I could see

Jason reaching out to pull her off me.

His vicious glare pierced me. “I said get the fuck out of here!

Now!”

I finally stumbled to my feet and regained a bit of my

balance. I watched as Melanie struggled to get free from Jason’s

grasp, and I said nothing.

Nothing.

I turned and ran as fast as I could away from her, away from

her family, away from the pain. I heard a scuffle behind me and

Mr. Parker’s voice booming through the sound of the rain and

I knew that he had finally overpowered his son. I also heard

Melanie, now unrestrained, chasing after me, yelling my name,

and begging me to stop. I was not, however, in my right mind. I

was filled with terror and confusion and hurt and pain and I had

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no coherent thoughts other than my inner voice telling me to run

and to keep running until the pain stopped.

v

Eventually Melanie’s voice faded, and all I could hear was

the rain, the splashing of my shoes in the sidewalk puddles, and

the all too familiar L.A. sound of an ambulance siren wailing

in the distance. I kept running, crossing streets without looking

for cars, slipping in mud and falling, getting back up again, and

running more until the stitch in my side and my ragged, gasping

breaths finally made me stop. When my breathing had stabilized

I took my first real look at my surroundings. I had unknowingly

headed toward my apartment and realized, with shock, I was over

halfway home.

I stood in front of a gated apartment building, suddenly

freezing. I replayed the last hour’s events in my head and an

overwhelming grief settled upon me. I sat down on a small

bench, shivering in the rain, and buried my bruised and aching

face in my hands. I wept with abandon. The outcome of what was

supposed to be a trying, but ultimately freeing coming out had

turned into a full-on battle, complete with casualties.

My worst-case scenario.

I couldn’t wrap my head around the multitude of emotions

bombarding me. I was full of hate and anger toward Jason,

saddened by the lack of love and support in the Parker household,

fearful for Melanie’s safety, worried about our relationship, and

brimming with rage and humiliation about the way I had been

treated.

When the shivering and cold became unbearable I got up.

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I found the nearest bus stop just as the bus pulled to the curb. It

drove me the rest of the way home and I disembarked and walked

the last block to my apartment. Sitting on the bus had made the

overworked muscles in my legs seize up, and climbing the stairs

to our front door was agony. I couldn’t even let myself in because

I had left my key at Melanie’s house.

Melanie.

Thinking of her shot a sharp pain through my chest, but I

tried my best to ignore it and knocked.

Mom opened the door, and her eyes widened with horror.

I must have looked worse than I thought, as bad as I felt inside.

She hastily pulled me over the threshold. “Oh my God, Devin!

What happened? Were you mugged?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. What happened?”

“I just want to clean up and get warm. Then I’ll tell you

everything.”

Mom hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the

hospital, or—”

“No. I promise.”

Mom reluctantly agreed and I headed to the bathroom.

When I caught my reflection in the mirror I jumped. My

hair had come out of its usual ponytail and the loose, frizzy curls

were plastered to my face. The places on my neck where Jason’s

fingers had dug in had already turned a nasty shade of purple, my

eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and you could almost make

out the entire red handprint from where he had slapped me. Not

to mention my cut hands and elbows, the blood trickling out of a

large, swelling cut on my lip, and my torn, muddy clothes.

I sighed and began the painful process of stripping down.

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My muscles screamed, my bones ached with cold, and every

movement reminded me of exactly how I had been lowered to

this pitiful state.

A hot shower brought life back into my limbs and soothed

some of my aches, but the heavy anguish in my heart only seemed

to grow with each passing second. When I returned to the living

room in a pair of clean pajama pants and an Air Force sweatshirt,

Mom was waiting for me with a cup of hot cocoa and a worried

but determined expression on her face. Still, she didn’t push. I

sat down next to her on the couch and gratefully drank the cocoa

as she pulled a blanket over me. I leaned against her chest as she

put her arm around me as if I were a little girl again.

Instead of asking me what happened, she just ran her fingers

through my wet hair and hummed the tune to “Puff the Magic

Dragon” softly. It was the song she used to sing when I had

nightmares as a child. My face screwed up as I tried to fight

the tears that burned my eyes, but I couldn’t hold back. I cried

inconsolably, releasing all my frustration and sorrow in a flood of

pitiful wretchedness.

When my throat was scratchy and I had gained some

semblance of composure I quietly told Mom about what had

happened at Melanie’s house. Repeating it was like living through

it again, and by the end, even though I felt all cried out, I wept

again.

Mom was crying too by the time I had finished the story.

She demanded we press charges against Jason for assault,

but I wouldn’t even consider it. It was beyond her reasoning

to understand why, but I just told her that I didn’t want to do

anything that would show Melanie’s family in a bad light. I was

eighteen and she couldn’t force me to do it, so she dropped the

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Who I Am

subject, but not after a good long time trying to persuade me

otherwise. I loved Melanie and I didn’t want to create any more

of a rift within her family than I already had.

For the rest of the evening I remained cuddled against Mom

or watched TV while she made me chicken soup for a late-night

snack. She had already called the school and left a message at

the office letting them know that I wouldn’t be in the next day. I

was too ashamed of my weakness, too embarrassed about being

the cause of such a horrific scene, to see Melanie or anyone else

so soon. I’d talk to her in a few days when I went back to school

to see how she felt about me now that everything had gone so

horribly wrong. I could only hope Jason’s cruel words and her

parents’ disapproval of us hadn’t changed things…

• 143 •

• 144 •

Who I Am

chApteR NINe

I resumed school on Tuesday, still bruised and humiliated,

and as I walked down the hallway I received many

sympathetic looks. I figured I must look terrible, or that the news

of what had happened already had leaked and spread through the

entire student population. I tried my best to avoid eye contact

with anyone, but every now and then someone would come

up and say something like, “Devin, I’m so sorry about what

happened.” or “I’m sure everything will be fine. Let me know

if you need anything.” Rather than make me feel better, these

words of consolation made my embarrassment run even deeper.

The only thing worse than what actually happened was knowing

that everyone else knew about it.

At the door to the band hall, I took a steadying breath before

walking in. I was trying to brace for both the barrage of sympathy

as well as my first encounter with Melanie since fleeing from her

house in terror. To my surprise, however, everyone looked at me

with pity but didn’t say anything, and when I looked over at the

French horn section I saw that Melanie wasn’t there. Confused, I

scanned the room, looking to see if she was talking with friends

• 145 •

m.L. RIce

in another section. I didn’t see her. I figured she was just running

late and took my own seat as first chair trumpet.

By the end of rehearsal, my worry had heightened. Melanie

hadn’t shown up at all, and that was most definitely not like her. I

was getting up to leave for my next class when the band director,

Ms. Peacey, came over and put her arm around my shoulder. All I

could think was, Oh no, the teachers know about this too?

But of course they did.

“How are you doing, Devin?” she asked with genuine

concern in her voice.

“Um…okay, I guess.” I replied shyly.

“I know how close you and Melanie are. This must be very

difficult for you.”

“Yeah…It…it isn’t fun.”

“No, no, I don’t suppose it is, but you’re my star musician

and I want to know if there’s anything I can do for you or for

Melanie. Listen, will you give her this card for me? I want her

to know that I’m thinking about her and that the French horn

section won’t be the same until she gets back.” She handed me a

sealed purple envelope with Melanie’s name written in beautiful

script on the front. The i was dotted with a quarter note.

I said nothing, but took the card and turned around and left

the room. My head was spinning. Why had she asked me to give

a card to Melanie? It was almost as if Ms. Peacey had no clue

what had happened to me.

Wait.

Had something happened to Melanie too?

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach, and my

thoughts turned frantic. Had Jason hurt her? Had he done

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Who I Am

something even more drastic and put her whole family in

danger? Or worse?

I sprinted to the main school office and asked to use the

phone, realizing for the hundredth time that I really was the

only person in the U.S. without a cell phone. I called Melanie’s

number and got her voice mail. I left a message asking her to call

the office and have them deliver a message to me about what had

happened. I called her home number next. No answer. Unsure

what to do next, I told the secretary that I wasn’t feeling well and

bolted from the office, not caring about her shocked expression.

I very rarely ditched school, but I was distraught and knew

that I’d be useless in class anyway without knowing what had

happened to the person I loved most in the world. I ran to my

Corolla in the parking lot and, after what seemed like ten years,

I arrived at her house.

Now that I was there, I realized if Jason was still inside, he

might very well make good on his promise to kill me for showing

up again. But I didn’t care. Finding out what happened to Melanie

took precedence over everything else.

I briskly hurried to the front door and rang the bell. Heart in

my throat, I waited…and waited…ringing and knocking again

and again, but no one answered. I ran around to the back of the

house, thinking someone might be in the backyard, but when

I jumped to look over the fence, no one was there. Agitated, I

returned to the front yard, not knowing where to go next. I noticed

the elderly neighbor across the street squatting to pick up the

newspaper on the front walk.

“Excuse me!” I yelled, a bit frantically. Startled, the man

jumped and peered at me warily. I jogged across the street. “I

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m.L. RIce

didn’t mean to yell, sir. My name’s Devin Kelly and I’m friends

with Melanie Parker across the street. I haven’t seen her in

a couple of days and I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard

anything that might help me find her.”

A look of sympathy softened his features. “It was a big deal

here in the neighborhood. I’m surprised that you haven’t heard

anything about it.”

“What? What was a big deal?”

“Apparently two days ago, when we had that rainstorm,

something happened to young Melanie and an ambulance had

to be called. My wife and I heard yelling so we came outside

and watched under our umbrellas as the paramedics loaded her

up, about a block down”—he gestured—“and took her to the

hospital.”

I felt sick inside; it must’ve shown on my face.

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you. I figured most of her

friends would know by now.”

I concentrated on each breath, willing myself not to

hyperventilate. All I could remember was running away and

Melanie’s voice calling out after me to stop. Come back.

Panicked, I hadn’t stopped. I hadn’t come back. I ignored her,

and barely even noticed when I didn’t hear her voice anymore.

Oh no.

She ran after me for the entire length of her block, which

was way more than she should have done with her weak lung,

especially in that freezing rain. Now she was in the hospital

injured…or worse…and it was all my fault.

“Are you all right? Do you need to sit?” asked the neighbor,

taking a tentative step toward me.

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Who I Am

I shook off my horror. “Yes, I…I’m fine. Do you happen to

know where she was taken?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your help.”

I walked in a daze back to my car and drove home. Mom

was at work and I immediately got online to find the number for

the nearest hospital—Cedars-Sinai. I called and with equal parts

relief and anxiety, I learned Melanie was indeed a patient there.

In two minutes, I was out the door and back on the road headed

toward the hospital.

v

I’ve never liked hospitals and as I burst through the doors

of the Intensive Care Unit the mingled odors of antiseptic and

bleached linens hit me like a slap in the face. I approached the

staff desk and Darren, a burly nurse the size of a Hollywood club

bouncer, checked his chart for Melanie’s room. Two people at a

time were allowed for visitation into the ICU. According to him,

only one person was currently checked in. A ball of ice formed in

my stomach as I wondered which Parker was there. I imagined

a wild-eyed, camouflaged Jason crouched behind a rolling

tray laden with beeping equipment and bedpans, lying in wait

to ambush me as I walked into the room. Then again, I figured

a hospital was the safest place to be if he did decide to attack

me again. The nurse told me to wash my hands at the cleaning

station and proceed to the room at the far end of the hall, which

pulled me from my imaginings. A far more real feeling of dread

descended upon me.

• 149 •

m.L. RIce

Ever heard of a Dolly Zoom? Or the Vertigo Effect? Being a

film buff, I have seen many horror or suspense films that use this

technique. Basically, the camera lens zooms in on an actor while

the camera itself simultaneously moves away, which creates the

illusion of stretching hallways or paths. I felt exactly like that

as I began my slow journey to Melanie, lying in a hospital bed

suffering from who knows what.

At the door, I paused to garner strength before raising my

hand to knock. Before I could do so, though, the door opened

and Mrs. Parker jolted to a stop, clearly startled to see me. She

recovered quickly and shut the door before I could see inside.

With disdain she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard Melanie was in the hospital. I wanted to see if she

was okay. Nobody has told me anything.”

Mrs. Parker eyed me critically. “She’s fine.”

“Good. But why didn’t anyone call me?” My eyes welled

with tears. “What happened to her?”

“That’s none of your concern anymore.” Seeing the hurt on

my face, she attempted a softer tone. “Listen, we’re sorry about

what happened to you because of our son. None of us wanted that

to happen. But, at this point, we all think it’s best that you forget

about Melanie and move on with your life.”

Flabbergasted, I could think of nothing to say.

“Jason has been dealt with and won’t bother you again.

We’re quite ashamed. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings?” I repeated, disbelief in my tone.

She nodded. “We were always…fond of you.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No hard feelings after

being brutally attacked by Jason? No hard feelings after being

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Who I Am

dismissed from Melanie’s life? No hard feelings because they’d

always been fond of me?

I replied as politely as I could despite the sting of disbelief,

“I would really like to speak to Melanie. Please.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Devin.” Her voice had turned

cold again.

“Why not?” My anger and frustration began to simmer.

She glared. “I’ve already explained that we all, Melanie

included, think it best that you forget about all of this. We

don’t feel it’s appropriate for you to be around our daughter

anymore.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Parker, I would rather hear this

from Melanie.” I tried to push past her. She blocked me and we

grappled briefly until I gave up and stepped back. We stared each

other down, neither of us wanting to give way. In a brainstorm

moment, I glanced down the hall and said, “Jason!”

The ruse worked. Startled, Mrs. Parker looked to see if her

son was coming down the hall and I dodged past her, pushed the

door open and caught a glimpse of a bed-ridden, deathly pale

Melanie. Oxygen tubes snaked through her nose, an IV dripped

liquid into her veins, and she had something wrapped around her

chest. Her eyes were closed and I could tell that she was in a

drug-induced sleep. She wouldn’t even know that I’d come by.

“Mel!” I cried, but before I could run to her side, someone

clutched the collar of my shirt and hauled me backward into the

hallway.

Mr. Parker had joined his wife. He kept a firm hold on my

shirt and hiked his chin toward his wife. “I said go!”

Mrs. Parker straightened her back, spun on her heels, and

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m.L. RIce

stormed out of the ward. Other visitors gawked at us curiously,

and the burly nurse started toward us to calm the commotion. Mr.

Parker lifted a palm as if to say everything was under control.

Darren looked skeptical, but left to go back to his station. Mr.

Parker released my shirt and turned me toward him, his expression

gentler.

Tears of anger and pain stung my eyes and I wanted nothing

more than to run from the Parkers, the hospital, all of it. “What in

the hell? Seriously!”

“I’m sorry. Please”—he gestured down the hall—“let’s go to

the waiting area for a moment. We need to have a talk.”

I hesitated, but did as he asked, hoping some logic would

come out of the conversation. If I could make him understand

how much Melanie meant to me, maybe he’d allow me to visit

her.

We sat on the couch in the empty room. When I opened

my mouth to make my case, he interrupted with, “Look, Devin.

There’s something I need to say and I don’t think you’re going

to like it much, but I have to clear the air.” I swallowed hard and

concentrated on a torn corner of fabric on the couch.

“First, I want to apologize for what happened.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Parker already tried that.”

“Be that as it may, the thought of an attack like that coming

from my son or anyone in my family—” He paused, pressing his

lips in a thin line. “I will understand fully if you decide to press

charges. We won’t stand against you, and we’ll tell the police

exactly what happened. If he goes to jail”—he shrugged—“so

be it. He needs to realize that there are consequences to his

actions.”

“I just want this to be over. I’m not pressing charges.”

• 152 •

Who I Am

Mr. Parker exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized he’d been

holding. “I promise he won’t bother you again.”

I nodded.

“Now. On to the more unpleasant conversation—”

“Mr. Parker, what happened to Melanie? Is she going to be

all right?”

“I’m not going into specifics right now, Devin. This is a

private family matter.”

“But—”

“Melanie will recover eventually, but she will have a long

road ahead. Which is what I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Anything to help Melanie.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” he paused to level his

composure, “our family is in crisis. My wife has been—”

“What?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not important. What matters is

that Jason has a multitude of…issues, including rampant drug

abuse. Now Melanie’s ill. Very ill. I now have to ask that you not

contact her again.”

I waited, expecting to hear “this week” or “until she gets

back on her feet,” but it appeared he meant “Please don’t contact

her again…ever.”

I blinked. “I don’t understand.”

He looked at me with compassion that wasn’t quite genuine.

“Devin, I’m not saying it’s your fault. But since Melanie met

you, she has spent all of her time…with you. She put you above

her college ambitions, even came out as a lesbian, of all things.

And Jason has gone off the deep end. Not to mention my own

failings as a father.”

I glanced away, because that part was true.

• 153 •

m.L. RIce

“Don’t attempt to speak to Melanie again.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “So I can concentrate on fixing my family. So we

can all move past all this…unpleasantness.”

Unpleasantness? I sat dumbfounded. My vision blurred.

My hands and feet tingled until I could no longer feel them. My

heartbeat raced. The man’s son attacked me, and now he was

preventing me from seeing the person I loved? Unpleasantness?

Really?

Mr. Parker squeezed my shoulder. “This may seem harsh,

Devin, or abrupt, but believe me when I tell you, it’s for the

best.”

The best for whom? I wanted to ask.

“Let Melanie forget all of this. You’ll just be a reminder of

what this whole ordeal cost her.”

My stomach contracted.

Mr. Parker lowered his chin and pinned me with a stare. “I

know you don’t want to hurt her any more than she’s already

been hurt.”

He claimed they didn’t blame me for what had happened, but

I was the one being punished. I thought back to the blank looks

he and Mrs. Parker had given me when Melanie told them about

us, about Jason’s tirade and history of escalating abuse, about her

family’s drunken bouts of homophobia. Mostly, I thought about

Melanie’s near-lifeless body in the room around the corner.

He was right. Mr. Parker was totally right. Although her

family had never been perfect, their steady decline had most

definitely occurred when I entered their life. My fears and doubts

about my own self-worth had come true in the most devastating

manner possible. I had to get away.

• 154 •

Who I Am

I stood, and with my heart being shredded into a million

agonizing pieces, I walked out of the hospital and out of Melanie

Parker’s life. For good.

v

When I arrived home, Mom was already home from work.

Clearly, I couldn’t hide my despondent state.

“Devin. What happened now?”

I told her what Melanie’s parents had said.

“That’s it.” Mom snatched up her purse and headed toward

the front door of the apartment.

“No, Mom.” I blocked her exit. “Please, just forget about

it.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because…Mr. Parker was right. Melanie’s life was great

until I came into the picture.”

“Oh, honey.” This seemed to upset her more than anything

else. She grabbed my wrist gently and pulled me to sit down next

to her on the couch. I felt ashamed, worthless, dead.

Mom pointed a finger in my face. “You have more worth

than anyone I’ve ever known, Devin Kelly, and don’t you forget

it.”

The words felt good, but I rolled my eyes. “You have to say

that. You’re my mom.”

“No. I don’t have to say that.” She squeezed my hand. “This

hasn’t been the easiest year for either of us.”

“Mom, you don’t have to—”

“No. Just listen.” She waited. I didn’t interrupt. “It makes

me livid thinking you’d internalize anything those people said to

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m.L. RIce

you. You’re everything to me, and you’re everything to Melanie

too.” She pulled me into a tight embrace, and the tears I couldn’t

hold back dripped on her shoulder. “I am going to speak with the

Parkers. I know you don’t want me to, but I’m still your mother,

and no one will talk to my daughter the way they did to you.”

My heart swelled. Feeling slightly better, I followed Mom as

she stood. Without another word, I hugged her as hard as I could,

then let her leave. The lengths to which Mom would go to defend

me? I’d never been more proud. And I’d never felt closer to her

in my life.

• 156 •

Who I Am

chApteR teN

Despite the renewed bond with Mom, I still couldn’t help

but feel as if the entire ordeal with Melanie had been

my fault. I desperately wanted to see Melanie, wanted to ignore

what her father had said, but I wasn’t sure if she was even awake

and functioning, much less if she wanted to see me again.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Parker had made it seem like my

disappearance had been a family decision.

I returned to school the next day, knowing that every chair

in which Melanie normally sat would be empty. This time, when

people came up to console me, I knew that they were talking

about whatever had happened to her and that they didn’t know

anything about what had happened to me. Unfortunately, no

one knew specifics, only that Melanie was very sick and wasn’t

receiving any visitors, so I was still unable to find out her exact

condition. I smiled politely when approached, but I never talked

to anyone. I felt as if a piece of my soul was missing, and if I

opened my mouth to speak, the last fragments I had would escape

into the ether, leaving me a hollow, miserable shell.

Throughout the week, people eventually stopped trying to get

me to talk. Every day after school I would call Melanie’s hospital

• 157 •

m.L. RIce

room, hoping that her parents would be out and she would be

awake to answer. This never happened. Every time the receiver

was picked up on the other end I would hear the high, girlish

voice of Mrs. Parker or the deep growl of Mr. Parker. Without

saying a word I would hang up. It became my masochistic daily

ritual.

Finally, on the following Sunday while Mom was at the

grocery store and I was home alone, I heard a knock on our door.

It was well past noon, but I was still in my pajamas and my hair

stood out in a wild mess of tangles. I knew I must look terrible,

but I didn’t care. Lethargic and apathetic, I shuffled to the door,

but when I looked through the peephole, hopeful excitement filled

me. Esmerelda stood on the other side of the door, nervously

turning her small beaded purse over in her hands.

“Esmy!” I cried as I threw open the door and pulled her into

a hug.

“Hola, mija.” She hugged me back.

“What are you doing here?” I looked over her shoulder,

irrationally hoping that Melanie had made a miraculous recovery

and had come along.

“I am not supposed to be here. But I wanted to tell you not

to listen to Mr. Parker when he’s being an idiot.”

“Wait. What’s going on? I’m sorry, come inside first. And I

want to know about Melanie before we talk about her parents.” I

led her into the apartment and settled her on the couch while I got

her a glass of lemonade.

As she sipped, I said earnestly, “Please tell me how Melanie’s

doing. I can’t get anyone to talk to me. I feel like I’m dying inside.

Esmy, what’s wrong with her?”

Esmerelda patted me on the knee and pulled out a tissue to

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dab at her own wet eyes. “Now Devin, before I tell you this, you

must promise me that you won’t take the blame. We all know

whose fault this really is.”

I didn’t want to deal with the blame issue. “Please, just tell

me. I can’t stand not knowing.”

Esmerelda sniffed a few times. When she started to speak, her

accent sounded even thicker from the emotion she was holding

back, “Well, you know that Melanie has a weak chest from her

sickness as a child.”

“Yes.”

“I have never seen her so upset in all the time I’ve known

her. After Melanie chased you, trying to get you to come back,

she started to fall behind.”

Guilt stabbed me.

“She turned around to come back and almost made it home,

but she collapsed onto the sidewalk a few houses down. Mr.

Parker had stayed behind to control Jason, but Mrs. Parker and I

ran to where Melanie was lying in the rain, coughing and gasping

for air. She was holding on to her chest.” Esmerelda paused,

clearly trying to maintain her composure. She looked off into

space, reliving the painful memory. “It was horrible. Such fear in

her eyes. She had pushed herself beyond her physical limits and

her left lung completely collapsed.”

“I knew it was my fault.” I felt sick.

Esmerelda shushed me with a hand on my knee. “Mrs.

Parker was screaming for help, Melanie was turning more and

more blue until she eventually lost consciousness. Luckily a

neighbor heard the screaming and called nine-one-one.”

I covered my face with my palms and squeezed my eyes

shut.

• 159 •

m.L. RIce

“Are you sure you want to hear all this, mija?”

“Yes. All of it. Every word.” I needed to.

Esmy sighed. “After Melanie arrived at the hospital and had

been stabilized, the doctor told us that the paramedics had saved

her life by removing air from her chest cavity with a needle.

He said that if this hadn’t been done it could have been much

worse.”

I swallowed. “What does much worse actually mean?”

Esmerelda winced. “It means her lungs could have

completely collapsed, or she could have had brain damage

because of the lack of oxygen, or…I can’t say the worst thing.”

I could tell that all of the color had drained from my face.

I shivered, on the verge of losing consciousness myself. The

knowledge that I had almost killed my best friend and the love of

my life was too much to bear.

“So…so how is she now?” I asked as my voice cracked.

“Awake. But they are going to keep her in the hospital for a

few more days. She had a tube placed in her chest to make sure

that the air was removed completely so her lung could heal and

work again. So far it is going well. The doctor expects a full

recovery.”

I exhaled with obvious relief.

“Anyway, I knew you’d want to know. That’s why I came.

I’ll do whatever I can for you, Devin. You’re like a daughter to

me too.” She blew her nose again.

Unable to contain myself, I cried yet again.

Esmerelda pulled me into a motherly hug and said, “The

whole world has gone crazy, Devin. No matter what I say I can’t

get either of those stubborn burros to see sense. Melanie loves

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Who I Am

you more than I think even she knows. She has no idea what her

parents said to you, and now she’s wondering why you haven’t

come to see her.”

“They won’t tell her?” I asked, outraged.

“No, but I will try.”

I banged my fists against my thighs. “I can’t stand that this all

happened because of me. It’s my fault, and I want to see her, but I

won’t be able to handle it if she blames me for everything.”

“Mija, you know her better than that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get her into any more trouble by

disobeying her father either! I hate myself for this!” I realized

that I was yelling when Esmerelda’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry,

Esmy, I’m just so…so frustrated!”

“I know, Devin. I know. I have tried to talk to them, but no

one is listening. Just know that Melanie does want to see you, and

she’s angry with her parents. She misses you so much and she

cries all of the time since you haven’t visited. I will find a way to

talk to her tonight. I promise. Just give me some time.”

At that point Mom arrived home and paused, taking in the

scene. I was still blubbering, but I introduced Mom to Esmy and

tried to explain how good she had been to me and Melanie from

the very beginning. Mom looked differently at Esmy and asked

me to go to my room while she and Esmy sat down for a little

chat. Something about the steely glint in Mom’s eyes told me

she was ready to go on the warpath. A surprising hint of hope

sprang into life in that part of my chest that had, until now, felt

completely crushed.

v

• 161 •

m.L. RIce

The next morning before school I repeated my fruitless habit

of calling Melanie’s hospital room. This time, however, instead

of having to hang up on the Parkers, the morning nurse told me

the patient in that room had been released from the hospital. I

hung up, and with my breath held I called her cell phone. It rang

four times and then went to voice mail. I dreaded calling the

Parkers’ home phone because of the higher probability of having

to hang up on her parents again, but the desire to talk to Melanie

overshadowed my fear of them.

I dialed and the phone rang five times. I happened to know

they rarely used their home phone, thanks to cell phones, and

didn’t even have caller ID. The Parkers weren’t screening my

call. I was about to give up on the seventh ring when I heard a

click and a faint voice that I knew all too well.

“Hello?”

My heart jumped into my throat. “Mel! Mel, it’s me! Please

don’t hang up!”

A startled, “Oh!” came from the other end of the line with

more strength than when she had answered. With a slight waver

in her voice she said, “Christina, it’s so good to hear from you.”

Confused I replied, “No, Mel, it’s Devin! I understand if you

don’t want to talk to me, but…”

I was cut off with, “Yeah, Christina, I’m okay now. My

parents are right here taking good care of me.”

I finally caught on. “I get it. When can we talk? I have so

much I need to say to you.” I choked up and stopped speaking

before I burst into tears.

“Well, I won’t be going back to school this year. My teachers

have all agreed to send my work home to me so I can graduate

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Who I Am

as planned. Anyway, my doctor is about to get here for my daily

check-up, so I’ll chat with you later. Thank you so much for

checking on me.”

I didn’t know what else to say and I was still trying not to

cry so I stayed silent. Melanie said at last, “I miss you guys too.

I’ll see you soon I hope. Bye.” I heard another a small hitch in her

voice as she hung up.

v

The end of my senior year was supposed to be one of the

happiest times of my life and I walked through it like a mindless

zombie, just floating through the halls and taking my tests by

rote before graduation, all of the emotion having been burned

out of me. Every time I accidentally let a little feeling in, grief

overwhelmed me. Only our closest friends had gotten to speak

to Melanie directly, and she’d apparently told them what had

really happened that night. But having them know I’d been the

victim of a hate crime didn’t help boost my self-confidence. My

friends were sympathetic and tried to talk to me about it, but

since I wasn’t talking, they eventually stopped, except to pass

on the occasional message from Melanie letting me know that

she was thinking about me and would try to contact me soon.

Eventually the real story spread through the whole school, and

soon everyone knew about not only our relationship, but also

about Jason’s attack and Melanie’s near-death experience. This

made my last days at school mortifying. I looked awful, equal

parts embarrassed by and apathetic about my appearance. The

dark circles under my eyes had deepened, the bruises on my neck

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were still healing, I had lost four pounds, my hair was frizzier

than ever since I didn’t have the energy to tame it, and my eyes

were perpetually bloodshot. Every day felt like battle on the front

lines, and every time I thought I would never cry again, my tears

would return in a torrential rain of despair.

I hated myself for my weakness.

The stereotypical teen angst just angered me, making me

cry more.

I drove home alone every day to an empty apartment that

just invited brooding.

But not on Friday.

When I got home I found my mother waiting for me, literally

pacing back and forth in the living room. She froze in her tracks

at the sound of me opening the door, then rushed toward me

holding out three different envelopes. Her hand shook, and her

eyes were wide with apprehension and excitement.

Without saying a word I took them from her and saw that

each letter was from a different university in California.

I took a deep breath and decided to open the letter from

Stanford first. I had no expectations about getting accepted there,

so I figured that I’d get it out of the way. I also knew Stanford

was where Melanie would be going, and I didn’t want to think

about that situation any more than I had to. There was no way her

father would let her go to the same college I was attending. When

I pulled the letter out of the envelope and read it, I felt a mixture

of relief and disappointment.

I hadn’t been accepted.

Mom was watching me intently, so I shook my head and

placed the letter on the coffee table. She turned her eyes to the

next letter in my hands. This one was from San Diego State.

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Who I Am

I eased the paper from the envelope, scanned the words, and

a small grin formed on my face. Accepted.

Mom noticed the smile and pulled me into a congratulatory

hug.

I said, “Well, at least I know I’ll have somewhere to go to

school this fall. Let’s check this last one. Now that the pressure’s

off.”

The last letter was from UC Berkeley. I sat on the couch

and tore open the end of the envelope. A somewhat thicker set

of papers fell into my hands. I unfolded and read it, my eyes

widening with every sentence. I flicked a glance at Mom. Concern

furrowed her brow, but she let me finish without interruption. I

actually had to reread the same lines over and over, but when

they didn’t change I finally looked up at Mom in dumbfounded

silence.

“Well? What?”

“I’ve just been given a full music scholarship to Cal!”

v

Mom spent the next two hours making a list of all the things

I would need for school, excitedly talking about how proud she

was and anticipating road trips to visit me in Berkeley. At eight

p.m., a phone call roused her. She spoke briefly, then hung up,

turning to me warily.

I had the surreal thought that the full scholarship had been a

dream. “What?”

“Are you ready for some other news?”

“Sure,” I said hesitantly.

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand.

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m.L. RIce

“Mom! Wait, Mom. Where?”

“Esmerelda and I have been planning to sneak you in to see

Melanie the first time the Parkers were away for an evening. That

was Esmerelda on the phone.”

My heart leaped and I followed her out to the car, not quite

sure of what I was going to say to Melanie after all this time, or

what she might say to me. I felt nauseous with the anticipation

of it.

We pulled into the driveway and Esmerelda had the front

door open before the car had even come to a complete stop. This

was the first time Mom had actually been to this house, and I

could tell she was as intimidated by the grandeur of it as I’d been

the first time I saw it. Esmy led us inside, hugging us both. When

she released me, she said, “Melanie is waiting in her room.”

I hesitated.

“Go!” Esmy and Mom said in unison.

Laughing, Esmy and Mom turned toward the kitchen to chat

over a cup of coffee, no doubt.

I climbed the stairs that I knew so well as if I were climbing

the steps of the gallows. It was as if my life was about to be

cut short, unless, hoping beyond hope, my girlfriend was up

there waiting for me with a reprieve. Fearing what I was about

to hear—and see—made me pause at the door before knocking.

She had heard me approach, however, and the door swung wide.

Before I knew it, a crying Melanie was holding me in her familiar

arms. At the feel of her, the scent of her, I burst into tears as well,

mumbling about how sorry I was, and that everything was all my

fault.

Neither of us wanted to let the other go, but we had a lot to

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discuss. She stepped back from the embrace and held me at arm’s

length.

“Devin, I have one rule for today. Only one.”

“Yeah?” I asked, sniffling.

“You will not say that this is your fault ever again.”

“But…”

“Devin, I mean it.”

I paused and then nodded with my head toward the ground.

“Okay. That’s settled.” She kissed me softly on the forehead

and then led me over to sit on her bed. I opened my mouth to

speak again, but she stopped me by saying, “No, I’m going first.

First of all, obviously, my coming out didn’t turn out the way we

had hoped.” She winced. “Seeing the way Jason attacked you…”

Her voice cracked. “I can’t bear to think about what my…my

family,” she spat the word out with vehemence, “did to you. I am

just so utterly ashamed.”

“Mel, I—”

“Devin, when I was lying on the concrete in the rain, waiting

for the ambulance and right before I lost consciousness, all I

could think about was dying without ever getting to apologize to

you. Then I woke up in the hospital and waited for you to visit,

but my parents just kept telling me that you wouldn’t be coming.

That’s it. You wouldn’t be coming.”

I started to protest, but she stopped me.

“I know you tried to see me, Dev. I know you were there.

Esmy told me everything that happened while I was…out of it. I

don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I know the feeling.”

Melanie smiled. “So here’s the immediate problem, I’m not

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really in any danger at the moment. I have to go for check-ups

every couple of days to make sure everything is healing normally,

but my parents are keeping me out of school anyway. I assume

it’s partly so that they can keep me away from you.”

My brows furrowed in hurt and anger.

“But let me tell you this right now because I don’t want you

worrying about it like I know you will. They will not be able to

keep me away from you forever.”

“It already seems like forever.”

She paled. “Which brings me to the tough part. They’re

sending me to live with my grandmother in Boston—”

“What?”

“I know, and I have to go because they have threatened to

withhold my college tuition fund, and I have no money of my

own. That…and I really need them to trust me.”

This confused me.

“Once they know that they can trust me, I can start working

on their stupid bigotry. Someday they’ll realize that, yes, I am

gay, but despite that, I’m still the same good person I’ve always

been.”

“They should know that already!”

“I know. And maybe if I show them they’ll come around.”

She paused. “But as for us, I just need to know that you still love

me, despite my family and despite everything that has happened.

They can’t stop me from loving you.” She seemed to cower a

little. “Do you still want to be with me, Dev?”

Her lips quivered and she looked at me as if she feared that I

would tell her I couldn’t take her away from her family, or that I

couldn’t forgive what they had done to me. Instead of answering

with words I couldn’t seem to find, I leaned forward and kissed

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her with all of the desperation I felt after worrying that she could

die or that she would abandon me. She responded in kind and I

didn’t think anything could ever pull us apart.

Eventually we had to, if only to catch our breath. I smiled. “I

hope that answers your question.”

Melanie pulled me down onto the bed and snuggled into my

arms like a wounded animal. I made sure to hold her gently so as

not to hurt her chest even though I knew that she craved more.

After a slow inhale and long exhale, Mel’s voice muffled in

my chest as she spoke again, “There is one more thing, Dev. I got

in to Stanford…”

My heart leaped and I kissed her cheek, then pulled back to

smile at her. “Congratulations! And, guess what?”

Her brows raised.

“I got a music scholarship to Cal! We’ll be right next door

to each other! See? Everything will work out! They can’t keep us

apart while we’re away at school!”

Instead of sharing in my excitement, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, Dev, I am happy for you, don’t get me wrong. I need to

finish telling you, though…”

I pulled back, concerned.

“I got in to Stanford,” Melanie said, “but I can’t go.”

My ears buzzed. I swallowed thickly. “What do you mean?

Why not?”

Her lips twisted to the side. “My parents are footing the bill

and they want to keep me on the East Coast. I also got accepted

to Boston College, and that’s where they’re making me go.”

“Why?”

“They’re worried about further health issues and they want

Grammy around to keep an eye on me. Dad also has a lot of

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friends and colleagues at the Boston Medical Center who can

treat me. I don’t have a choice.”

“Well, that’s…that’s far, but like you said, distance just

means that we’ll have to do a lot of video chatting or something

until we graduate and can be together.” I tried to smile even

though I knew she couldn’t see it.

“It’s just going to be so hard, Devin. I thought I was going to

die being away from you for two weeks. I just don’t know how

to change their minds.”

“Mel, I promise you that no matter what happens I’ll wait

for you. I don’t care if it takes four years or forty. I love you, and

there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Thank you, Dev.” Melanie let out a deep sigh. “This is

really going to suck.”

“I know. We’ll figure it out. They won’t break us. I’ll get a

part-time job and fly to Boston whenever I can.” For once I felt

that I needed to be the strong one, but the effort felt foreign and

awkward.

“There’s one more thing.” Melanie said as she lifted her

head. “I’m leaving the day after graduation.”

I counted in my head. The prom was this coming Sunday

and our graduation ceremony was the weekend after that. I

swallowed hard, knowing that after all our recent time apart, my

more permanent separation from Melanie was only a week away.

I swallowed hard. “Will I get to see you again before you go?”

Melanie shrugged weakly. “Dad is pretty strict about where

we are these days. I don’t blame him, with all that happened.

He only left me today because Esmerelda agreed to follow his

instructions to not let me see or talk to you.”

“I’m glad she didn’t listen.”

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Who I Am

“She’ll never have to listen to him again. As soon as I leave,

she’s retiring and moving away from this house. I’m glad for

her. She did promise to keep trying to intervene for us if she can,

though. Along with your mom, of course.”

“Yeah, that friendship was unexpected.”

“I heard she went to the hospital to stand up for you.”

“Yep, she did.”

“I think she and Esmy are planning to keep those guns

blazing while I’m gone. Maybe he’ll come around. I think he

will.” We snuggled in silence for a moment, then Melanie sighed

and said, “Anyway, I promise you this is temporary. Just…just

wait for me, okay?” She sniffed and hugged me tighter.

I was glad that she cared enough about her family to give

them the benefit of the doubt, and I didn’t want her to lose that

because of me. I trusted Melanie implicitly and I knew that if she

said that she could make it happen, it would. She was my soul

mate and I knew in my heart that we just had to ride out the storm

before we reached the smooth waters.

v

We lay there holding each other in silence for a long time,

feeling the seconds and minutes tick away from the time we had

left together. All too soon, Esmerelda called up to let us know

that the Parkers were expected home at any time. One of the

hardest things I’ve ever done was uncoil myself from around

Melanie’s warm body and stand in the doorway of her room, lost

and alone.

Melanie got up and stood in front of me, kissing me lightly

on the lips. “We can do this, Dev. We’ll figure something out.

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Maybe I can get a job and make enough money to transfer to

Stanford on my own in a year or two.”

“A year or two?”

“I’ll do whatever I can. We just have to be strong. We can do

it, Dev. Just trust me and trust Esmy and your mom.”

Esmerelda called up to us again and I knew I had to leave.

Melanie said, “I’ll contact you when I can. Be patient over

the summer, and when school starts I’ll be able to talk to you all

the time. I just have to do this for my family or I’m afraid we’ll

never be able to fix the damage. Please don’t give up.”

“I’ll never give up on you. You can’t get rid of me that easily

and you know it.” I smiled, but Melanie knew me well enough to

see the fear behind the facade. I kissed her one last time before

turning around and heading downstairs to my mom, who was

waiting for me with a sympathetic look on her face. Esmerelda

hugged me on the way out and said, “Don’t worry, Devin. Your

mother and I are going to do whatever we can to help fix this.”

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chApteR eLeveN

As I crossed the stage and received my diploma at our

graduation ceremony the next weekend, I looked out

into the sea of faces staring back at me. The students, in their black

gowns and square hats, looked at me as if I were a particularly

interesting specimen in a lab. I could hear my mom, aunt, uncle,

and my few closest friends yelling and clapping for me, but

the auditorium was otherwise quiet and still. I tried my best to

hold my head high as I walked back to my seat. I knew that our

classmates missed Melanie too and that everyone was curious

about what had happened to me in the weeks since Jason’s attack.

I hated being the center of attention. Especially for such a painful

reason.

Toward the end of the ceremony we were told to move our

tassels from one side to the other and throw our hats into the

air as the orchestra played “Pomp and Circumstance.” While the

rest of the student students joyously threw their hats up as high

as they could I solemnly took my own hat off, tossed it up a few

inches, caught it, put it back on, and walked outside to meet my

relatives.

It had been a weak ending to my school experience. Years of

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m.L. RIce

loneliness and escape into music and fantasy, punctuated by the

happiest year of my life, ending with a complete social crash and

emotional downfall. I had gotten a taste of friendship, belonging,

and even true love, and now that I was alone again I felt lower

and more pathetic than I’d ever felt at any point in my life.

During the first few days after graduation I barely left my

room and just sat in the dark listening to depressing music by

Simon and Garfunkel. I knew that I was brooding and eventually

I even started to annoy myself with how pathetic I was becoming.

It was at this point that I mentally slapped myself in the face and

vowed to do my utmost to be the stronger and more independent

woman that Melanie had taught me to be.

v

Mom and I drove up to Berkeley at the end of June so that

I could attend the freshman orientation program. I learned about

the school, their customs, where my off-campus housing would

be, and how the class registration system worked. I also met with

a School of Music counselor who approved my class list for the

upcoming semester.

Mom had stayed in a motel while I stayed in a dorm room

with another freshman girl. She was nice enough, but I knew that

we would never see each other again once school started. I was

pretty sure that I would keep busy with work, school, practicing

my trumpet, and band while she was more likely to rush for a

Greek sorority and end up puking in the bathroom after a night of

binge drinking with the frat boys.

I also learned more about what kind of financial burden I

would be under. I was privileged enough to have the scholarship,

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which meant that my tuition would be mostly paid for, but there

were plenty of other expenses to worry about. Luckily, Mom and

Dad had started a college fund for me when I was born, and his

life insurance would certainly help, but I didn’t want to be too

much of a drain on Mom. I approached the music department

and was offered a job as a part-time music librarian. The extra

money would help pay for the rest of my time at school and, I

hoped desperately, plane tickets to Boston to visit Mel.

When I got back to L.A. I found a postcard waiting in our

mailbox. I smiled when I saw a picture of the tall ship U.S.S.

Constitution on the front, and when I turned it over every square

inch of the back was covered with Melanie’s perfect small

handwriting. My heart raced at this first contact with her in over

a month. She wrote:

Love of my life,

I’m in Boston now. It’s okay here, but it’ll never be

great without you. Dad’s doctor friends are nice and I

like the Boston College campus. Grammy is amazing

and it’s so good to see her, but I don’t know how much

she believes the happy front that I’m putting on. She was

always able to see through me. I’ve heard her talking to

Dad on the phone at night and she doesn’t seem happy

about something. I don’t think she knows about us, so

she’s worried about why I’m so sad. I’m afraid that she

thinks I’m in more physical pain than I’m letting on.

Anyway, I’m still going along with Dad’s wishes to not

use a cell phone or computer to contact you while I’m

here because I want him to know that he can trust me.

Well, postcards don’t count because they’re old school,

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m.L. RIce

right? I’ve been talking to Esmy and she said that she

and your mom have been in touch. Maybe they’ll be

able to beat some sense into Mom and Dad. Just be

patient and know that you’re in my thoughts every day

and I can’t wait to see you again, whenever that may be.

Oh, and congratulations on your scholarship! I wasn’t

able to really tell you when we last talked. I’m SO proud

of you!

Love and a million kisses,

Mel

A rush of happiness swept through me. I took comfort in

the fact that Mom and Esmy were on our side, trying to keep

everything together for us. Mom had become really good friends

with Esmy and spoke with her almost daily, but she wouldn’t tell

me what they talked about.

In the meantime, I wrote Melanie back and sent the letter

to the return address on the postcard and sent it in a business

envelope from Mom’s library in case anyone was screening her

mail. I let her know how much I appreciated the postcard and

updated her on my visit to Cal. I shared my excitement and,

of course, I assured her of my undying love and told her I was

already saving money to visit her in Boston within a few months

of starting school.

The day I loaded up my Corolla, whom I had dubbed Thelma

to go along with my middle name, Louise, was bittersweet. Mom,

Esmy, and my aunt and uncle had all seen me off. Watching Mom

cry in my rearview mirror choked me up, but I made myself think

of all of the pain I was leaving behind and all of the adventure

waiting for me. Mom had offered to be my chaperone up to school

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to help me get settled, but I had refused, wanting to experience

freedom and self-reliance and even anxious uncertainty on my

own. I knew that the time for me to become my own woman was

at hand and that if I could do this alone, I could do anything.

I still had to fight bitterness, anger, and loneliness every step

of the way, but I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let the

homophobic attack and rejection by Mel’s family taint the rest of

my life. Repeating these thoughts in my head helped me pass the

long hours until I finally reached my destination.

The lush greenery of the campus foliage embraced the

beautiful white buildings with their distinctive red roofs, and

above it all towered the famous Campanile, its carillon bells

ringing joyously as if to welcome me home. This is it, I thought .

A new beginning. There is no Melanie to help me make friends

this time. No Mom to comfort me when things get tough. I am

Devin Kelly. And I can do this.

Classes didn’t start for another two weeks, but students

walked across campus, backpacks slung over their shoulders, blue

and gold Cal shirts as far as the eye could see. I smiled for the

first time in what seemed like forever, knowing that I would soon

be a part of this world. I had never felt completely comfortable in

school, but at Cal, I saw a diverse and open society of knowledge-

seekers that pulled at me like a Siren. I felt like a completely

different person than the insecure and terrified girl I had been

on that first day of my senior year of high school. Whatever else

may have happened because of her, Melanie had changed me to

my core. She had opened my eyes to the wonders of the world

around me and had opened my heart to people. Without her I

would never have been able to take this life-changing plunge

alone. Whatever you’re doing over there at Boston College, Mel,

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I hope you know that you have changed me for the better and I

will always love you for it.

v

As I was moving into my dorm room at Tellefsen Hall, my

roommate entered. Her hair was blond and slightly shorter than

shoulder length, she was almost exactly my height, and she had

the fit physique of a swimmer. Her name was Emilie and, as this

off-campus dorm was solely for those of us in the Cal Marching

Band, I found out that she was a French horn player. Unlike me,

however, she wasn’t a music major, but was intent on studying

kinesiology to become a professional sports athletic trainer. We

had a lot in common, and in less than twenty-four hours I had

made my first friend at school. My hopes continued to rise. I just

tried to avoid the sight of her French horn case situated against

the wall.

I had come to school early to take part in the mandatory

fall training program for marching band members. We attended a

three-day clinic at UC Davis before returning to the UC Berkeley

campus to complete the program as well as to participate in the

University’s standard Welcome Week. While at the clinic I learned

to march in the style of the “Pride of California” Marching Band

and found that, although the vast majority of my fellow musicians

weren’t music majors, they were all talented and loved being a

part of the band just as much as I did.

Emilie and I became even better friends during the clinic,

which was fortunate seeing as we would be living together, and

she had allayed my fears about possible homophobia when she

introduced me to Tim, her best friend, piccolo player, and obvious

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homosexual. Whenever she caught me looking depressed, she

would try to cheer me up with bawdy humor and, because she was

so easy to talk to, I decided one day during a break at marching

fundamentals practice to tell her what had happened between

Melanie and me that year. To my intense relief, she never even

blinked when she found out I was a lesbian.

“So, wait a minute,” she said while we were sitting on the

sidelines for a much needed water break, “You’re telling me that

this chick’s parents actually banished you?”

“Yep.”

“That’s messed up. Especially after what their son did to

not only you, but to their daughter! They should be buying you

flowers, sending you two on a month-long cruise, and begging for

forgiveness. What assholes! I assume you were pretty upset.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you could say that. Although to

be just a tad bit more accurate I’d call it devastated or utterly

destroyed. I mean, I’ve been able to function, but that pain…” I

shuddered. “I really thought that I had killed her. It still hurts, you

know? Some days I think that I’ll be okay and the pain lessens a

bit, but then something will remind me of her and back it comes

like a knife in my chest. It’s really sad, but my favorite time of the

day is early in the morning, just as I’m waking up when I’m on

that thin ledge between dreams and being fully awake. At those

times I don’t remember what has happened, Melanie is still with

me after my dreams, and I’m happy. It just seems like any old

morning on any normal day.”

Emilie shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand how

they could blame you for it.”

“Mel’s family has some major issues. It’s sad really. Jason

is such a fuckup, her dad has had his head up his butt for so long

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that he’s only now finding it again, and her mom is an alcoholic.

The one good thing going for that family—Melanie—has to be

swept under the rug and reduced to an embarrassing afterthought

because of bigotry! I can’t stand the way they treat her!” In my

frustration I balled up my empty water cup and threw it with

vehemence at the nearby trash can, but it bounced off the side and

hit a trombone player in the head.

“Sorry,” I said to both the trombone player and Emilie as

I sighed and looked down at my crossed legs, my shoulders

slumped.

“There’s no need to be sorry. You have every right to be

mad. I tell you what. If her dad ever comes around here, I know

he won’t—but if he does, Tim and I would be happy to kick his

ass for you.”

I smiled and laughed genuinely. “I don’t think that will be

necessary.” I paused for a moment and then said, “However,

if her brother shows up, I give you my full and unreserved

permission to remove whatever appendages from his body you

deem appropriate. I think you know where to start.”

Emilie laughed and we stood as the drum major’s whistle

called us back onto the field.

v

On Friday at the end of the week, after days of learning and

rehearsing our pre-game show, Emilie, Tim, several of my fellow

freshman, and I decided to take a proper tour of the campus so

that we would be able to find our classes when they started. A

senior band member volunteered to play tour guide for us and

we headed out before the sun started to set. I had already walked

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around the campus several times both during freshman orientation

and during my few spare moments away from band, but I had

never paid attention to what kinds of classes each building held.

I noticed as we walked around that most of the new students had

finally arrived and there were other tour groups wandering about,

each containing a cluster of freshmen led by an older Welcome

Week counselor. Most were fresh-faced and eager and I knew that

I might look the same on the outside, but as we strolled under the

distinctive London Plane trees lining the Campanile Esplanade

I realized with a rush of near-debilitating sadness that I wanted

more than anything for Melanie to be there with me. I wanted her

to see everything that I was seeing. To experience this new life

with me. My mind and emotions had been otherwise engaged

and distracted during the long and intense week with the band,

but now that I was free to truly see the beauty and excitement

around me I knew that I would always feel alone without her.

With her apart from me I felt like I was living my life in two

dimensions. Colors weren’t as bright, sounds seemed flat, and

any happiness I felt was muted by a persistent layer of bleakness.

I knew, as time went on, my depression would grow tiresome to

my new friends, so I made a point to try to keep a smile on my

face when I was around other people and to save my melancholy

for the privacy of my own head.

As I walked behind our group in my sullen reverie, the

Campanile tower on my left and a beautiful view that stretched

all the way to San Francisco on my right, a sudden flash of…

something stopped me dead in my tracks. It wasn’t anything I

had seen or heard. It was more like a thought that told me that I

needed to stay in one place. Confused, I looked around to see if

someone might have called my name. Only one other Welcome

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Week tour was nearby and they were assembled at the base of the

Campanile across a small road with their backs toward me.

Time slowed as my eyes stopped scanning them and came to

rest on the brown hair of a girl at the back of group. Her head was

bowed down while everyone else’s faces were pointed skyward

toward the top of the tower, following the tour guide’s lifted

finger. As I watched, she slowly lifted her chin and started to

turn, as if sensing my gaze on her.

My hands went numb, ice formed in the pit of my stomach,

and my heart dropped right through my body to the walkway

beneath my feet. It seemed like a year passed before she finally

faced me. Our eyes locked. I froze completely in place. She stood

at least twenty yards away from me, but even at that distance, I

could recognize the smallest feature of Melanie’s face.

We stood there staring for what seemed like an hour. As the

shock began to wear off, a million questions poured into my mind

at once. The foremost being what in the hell was Melanie doing

on a freshman tour of the campus at Berkeley?

Her exquisitely beautiful face was almost blinding after so

long an absence. In contrast, I had been at marching rehearsal

all day and, although I was wearing a new Cal baseball cap,

my ponytail was large and frizzy because of the humidity, and

my dirty Nike shorts and Cal Band T-shirt were anything but

stylish.

Melanie, on the other hand, positively glowed in her casual

jeans and a fitted graphic T-shirt, but she had a look on her face

that I recognized from the times she would take an exam at

school. Concentration mixed with determination and overlaid

with flashes of total confidence.

• 182 •

Who I Am

To my exhilaration, she began a slow walk toward me. Her

face was set in such a way that I couldn’t read her intentions. As

she neared, I had to fight the unexpected urge to take a step back

or run. I wasn’t afraid of Melanie, but I honestly didn’t know if I

would be able to hear her voice without breaking down. I didn’t

know if she was there because she wanted to see me or if there

was some bad news that she could only deliver in person. My

paranoia almost always wins out over hope or logic.

Melanie stopped only a foot in front of me.

Every emotion that I had felt from the time I first saw

Melanie raced through me and across my face and, above all of

the pain and sadness and hurt, was an overwhelming feeling of

intense, heart-rending love.

Without saying a single word she stepped forward and pulled

me into a kiss unlike anything I’d ever felt before. The entire

world disappeared and I melted into her, forgetting about all of

the suffering, forgetting about the onlookers around us, forgetting

that anything else in the universe had ever existed except the two

of us.

v

A mere minute and an entire eternity passed before we broke

the contact and she stepped back. She said in a whisper that I

could barely hear, “Hi, Dev.”

I answered with a marked tremor in my voice, “Hey, Mel.”

“I…I wanted to surprise you. I got your address and schedule

from your mom and was going to find you tonight. I hope that’s

okay.”

• 183 •

m.L. RIce

I blinked. “Um, yeah. That’s okay!” A slow smile lifted my

lips as the true weight of having my girlfriend here began to sink

in. “Well, holy shit.”

“That’s eloquent!” Melanie beamed back at me.

“You know me. But seriously, what in the world are you

doing here? Does your dad know? Why didn’t you tell me? How

long do you get to stay?”

“Come on, we need to sit down for this.” We sat on the

nearest bench and Melanie took my hands in hers. “Yes, my dad

knows I’m here. I didn’t tell you ahead of time because I wasn’t

sure myself if I could come until just recently. I flew in this

morning and wanted to surprise you, and finally…this is the big

one, Dev. I get to stay as long as you want me to.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What do you mean you get to

stay as long as I want you to? Don’t you have to get back to

Boston for the start of classes?”

Melanie grinned widely and said, “I’m a student here. I get

to go to Cal with you!”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded. “How?”

“Well, it’s in no small part due to the actions of Esmy, your

mom, and even my Grammy. The short version is this: Esmy has

been talking to Mom and Dad nonstop since all of this happened.

She can be really persuasive when she wants to be. They both

know how badly they’ve screwed everything up and have started

to come to terms with their obvious failures in the parenting

department. I think Mom’s rehab is helping her put things into

perspective too.”

“I doubt that they could have had such a huge a change of

heart so quickly.”

• 184 •

Who I Am

“No, you’re right. They still have a long way to go, but with

everyone reminding them of all this crap at every turn they’ve

started to back down. Your mom has been talking to them too

because she wants them to see you guys as real human beings.”

I nodded. “My mom kicks ass.”

“Yes. Yes, she does. Anyway, I eventually told Grammy

about what had happened and she let my dad have it. It was

awesome! She told him that no son of hers was going to deny her

only granddaughter the happiness she deserved, especially since

she herself had been the victim of anti-Semitism and bigotry

growing up.”

“It sounds like I need to meet this amazing woman!”

“You will. And she’ll love you. Anyway, last week I told

my dad that I would not be going to Boston College and would

be moving back to California, even if I had to take a year off of

school to do it. He wasn’t at all happy, but at Grammy’s insistence

he was able to pull a few strings with some of his colleagues here

and get me late admission. I got accepted here too, after all.”

“Well, I can’t complain about all that, but it still sounds like

they still blame me for everything and don’t want you to be here

with me.”

“They never really blamed you, Dev, they were just too

blinded by their own faults to see what was really happening

around them. They were mortified by what Jason did and didn’t

know how to handle it, so they lashed out at the easiest target. I

think they really do feel bad about everything that happened.”

“I highly doubt that.” Suddenly the immensity of what she

had just told me struck home. “So…you get to stay here? With

me? For our entire time at school?”

• 185 •

m.L. RIce

“Devin, I get to stay with you forever. And I’m not easy

to scare off, so don’t even try.” She smiled and squeezed my

hands.

I pulled her into my arms, shaking with joy at the unexpected

news. I saw Emilie and Tim out of the corner of my eye. “Well, I

guess I should introduce you to my roommate, then.”

As Melanie and I walked toward my new friends, she held

my hand so tightly that it seemed she feared I would fly away.

• 186 •

Who I Am

chApteR tWeLve

We curled into each other under the sheets the moment

we entered my dorm room. The bed was a twin, of

course, but we were so entwined, it didn’t matter. We shared

another set of apologies back and forth.

“Well,” I said finally, “I think we can blame everything on

Jason.”

“True.”

“How will he take all of this when he finds out?”

“I don’t give a crap.” Melanie snuggled deeper into my

arms. “Everyone saw what a miserable wreck I was without you,

and they finally saw Jason for who he is. He stayed in rehab all

summer, and then they sent him over to live with a cousin in

England. From what I hear he’s doing better, but he’s no longer a

part of my life.” She shook her head. “I know he’s my brother…

my twin, for God’s sake…but I’ll never forgive him for what he

did to you. I still have nightmares.” She shivered.

“It’s okay. It’s over.”

“Anyway, Mom and Dad made a deal with him. As long as

he stays in England and continues treatment they’ll foot the bill

and help him go back to school.”

• 187 •

m.L. RIce

“That’s good, I guess. But you definitely got the worse end

of the deal. When I saw you in that hospital bed, thinking that

you were going to die—” I choked up and stopped talking.

Melanie stroked my bare back with her soft fingers. “We’re

together now. That’s all that matters. The world is ours.”

I sniffed back threatening tears. “I still feel bad that you

never got to go to Stanford because of me.”

“Please. Ol’ Cal has a society and environment program in

the College of Natural Resources that fits exactly with what I

want to do. I was so dead set on Stanford, I never really looked at

the programs elsewhere.”

“That’s awesome!”

“I know. It’ll kind of be like the S.A.E.P. on a much larger

scale. I have it all planned out.”

“Of course you do,” I said, laughing.

“I want to get my bachelor’s degree here and then

go to Stanford for the interdisciplinary graduate program

in environment and resources so that I can eventually get

my doctorate, then work with environmental nonprofits or

government agencies to save the planet.”

I stared at the top of her head with a blank expression, and

then said lamely, “And I’m going to…play the trumpet.”

After a moment we both burst out laughing. When the

laughter had subsided I asked, “Why didn’t you join the marching

band, Mel? You don’t have to be a music major.”

“I’m not really allowed to play anymore. The doctors don’t

think that my lungs can handle it. After what I went through…

that day…I don’t want to chance it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged. “I was never anywhere near as good as you

• 188 •

Who I Am

anyway. You’re enough of a musician for both of us, I think. You

just have to promise me that I can be your groupie when you

become a super-famous trumpet player.”

“Hmm…we’ll have to see about that. You’ll have to fawn all

over me and tell me how sexy I am.”

“Yeah,” she said, moving her body over mine, “that won’t

be a problem. No matter what happens next, we’ll never be apart

again.”

v

Some people are respected by everyone, confident in who

they are, and succeed in everything they try.

I am not one of these people.

But…I am lucky enough to be in love with, and loved

by, someone who is. Without Melanie, I’d be the same shy,

uninteresting, depressed little girl of my past.

She made me who I am today.

Her name is Melanie Parker, and she is my everything.

My name is Devin Kelly…and I am hers.

• 189 •

About the Author

M.L. Rice was born and raised in the plains of Texas. She

graduated with a degree in Radio / TV / Film from the University

of Texas at Austin where she was a proud member of the

Longhorn Marching and Basketball Bands. After college she

moved to sunny Los Angeles, where she currently lives with her

wife and three cats. She enjoys scuba diving, hiking, kayaking,

swimming, spending too much time on video games, going to the

theater, and playing in Disneyland. She volunteers for various

nonprofit organizations, travels whenever she can, collects and

plays multiple instruments including the trumpet, cello, and

great highland bagpipes, and is also a member of the U.S. Coast

Guard Auxiliary.

Soliloquy Titles From Bold Strokes Books

Who I Am by M.L. Rice. Devin Kelly’s senior year is a disaster.

She’s in a new school in a new town, and the school bully is

making her life miserable—but then she meets his sister Melanie

and realizes her feelings for her are more than platonic. (978-1-

60282-231-3)

Sleeping Angel by Greg Herren. Eric Matthews survives a

terrible car accident only to find out everyone in town thinks he’s

a murderer—and he has to clear his name even though he has no

memories of what happened. (978-1-60282-214-6)

mesmerized by David-Matthew Barnes. Through her close

friendship with Brodie and Lance, Serena Albright learns about

the many forms of love and finds comfort for the grief and guilt

she feels over the brutal death of her older brother, the victim of

a hate crime. (978-1-60282-191-0)

The Perfect Family by Kathryn Shay. A mother and her gay son

stand hand in hand as the storms of change engulf their perfect

family and the life they knew. (978-1-60282-181-1)

Father Knows Best by Lynda Sandoval. High school juniors

and best friends Lila Moreno, Meryl Morganstern, and Caressa

Thibodoux plan to make the most of the summer before senior

year. What they discover that amazing summer about girl power,

growing up, and trusting friends and family more than prepares

them to tackle that all-important senior year! (978-1-60282-

147-7)

Table of Contents

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