Broken Little Melodies(2)

By then, the blonde girl was a few steps ahead, making her way to the main building. A suited man trailed behind her, lugging several different sized bags and leaving her empty-handed. I slowed my pace to put a safe distance between us, but we ended up right next to each other at the end of the long line for registration. I held my breath, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping she wouldn’t notice the poor girl.

But of course, fate had other plans. When she spun around to look at me, arms crossed over her already large breasts, I was so nervous that I feared I’d throw up all over her. Her gaze slipped downward, appearing humored by my $10 sundress. Or maybe she was amused by my flat chest.

Part of me wanted to bolt from there and run after my aunt. But the stubborn side of me remained rooted in place, matching the girl’s calloused smile. Looking into her heavily made-up eyes, I was slightly embarrassed that I didn’t even own mascara.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “I would think the entrance for help would be out back somewhere.”

“I’m here to sing, same as you,” I replied, crossing my arms over my stomach. Thankfully, I sounded a lot braver than I felt.

She pressed a manicured hand to her lips. “Oh, my god! You must be one of those welfare cases, here on a free ride! Am I right?”

“Stop being a bitch, Brooke,” a tenor voice snapped behind me.

A lanky boy with sandy colored hair and a wide nose appeared at her side, only slightly taller than either one of us. Though he had a nerdy presence and appeared awkward, as if he had yet to grow into his features, it was glaringly obvious he came from money like the other kids. Even his neatly trimmed haircut looked expensive. He was dressed in khaki pants and a sea green polo shirt the same cool tone as his eyes. They were the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen, surrounded by thick lashes and peppered with a little cluster of golden specks that reminded me of the kind of beautifully starry nights I saw the time my dad took us camping in the Sequoia National Park.

And those mesmerizing eyes were locked on me.

A weird little flush crept over my skin.

“She’s just pissed her parents shipped her out here for another summer because she hates singing,” he told me as his lips pressed into a friendly smile. “I’m Roman, and this is Brooke. We’re from New York. How ‘bout you?”

“Isabelle,” I mumbled in reply. It was obvious he was friends with the bitchy girl the way he draped his arm over the edge of her shoulder. At the time, I really didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Isabelle, from…” He cocked his head, waiting for me to answer.

“Down by Fresno.”

The friendly smile grew. “A California girl. Is this your first time here?”

Brooke laughed with an annoyingly high cackle. I knew then and there she was a first soprano. I also decided that I hated her. “Obviously. Look at her, Roman. She’s as scared as one of those stray kittens you can only get rid of by drowning.”

For a split second, Roman’s eyes warmed with sympathy before he reeled on her. “You know, Brooke, just because my father works for yours doesn’t mean I have to kiss your ass all the time. You could be nice for once in your life.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Like you really expect me to be friends with this girl? She doesn’t belong here.”

Roman flashed me another sympathetic look—one that took my breath away. In that moment I saw the type of worldly kindness you didn’t normally see in kids our age, like he knew of my struggles.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Isabelle.” His gentle smile did nothing to erase the pain in his eyes. Then he snatched Brooke’s hand and pulled her far away from the line. Their voices raised in argument as he dragged her around the building and out of sight.

They didn’t return, even after I was checked in and assigned to a cabin.

Although my run-in with Brooke left me feeling uneasy, and I wished my aunt would return to take me away from the nightmare, I was a little shaky in the knees from meeting the boy with starry green eyes.



Fortunately, Brooke wasn’t in my cabin, but she may as well have been the way my bunkmates gave me the cold shoulder. Even once we were all wearing the camp’s matching t-shirts and khaki shorts, I was still sorely out of place. My dark, frizzy curls were unruly in comparison to their well-kept styles, and I was the only one not wearing a stitch of makeup other than lip gloss. It didn’t help that I seemed to be the only one who hadn’t started puberty yet, either.

The realization that this was how it could be my entire summer vacation created an ache in my chest that couldn’t quite be classified as being homesick. It was more like regret.