Authors: Lurlene McDaniel
True Love (37 page)
M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY
September 6
School’s barely started and I’ve already got a pile of homework—ugh! I wrote a long e-mail to Jesse trying to encourage him about his family troubles. It must be hard. He feels torn between his parents, but of course, he’s really devoted to his mom. I wish I could see Jesse again, up close and personal. I really like him, but falling for someone who lives across the country doesn’t make sense. Wish I were like Bailey and could find someone at school, but no one interests me the way Jesse does. Maybe someday, some boy will. Until then, Jesse is the one! I can’t believe I’ve known him so long and we’re still close. What or who could break that tie up?
Atlanta School of Ballet
April 7
Atlanta School of Ballet
4325 Peachtree Blvd.
Atlanta, GA 30021
Dear Ms. Skye:
We are pleased to confirm your acceptance by the Washington School of Classical Dance for its summer training program, beginning June 14. This opportunity, offered only to approximately one hundred dancers in the country, will require you to live in the dorms and attend classes three times a day, six days a week. A packet from the Washington School will arrive shortly with all data pertaining to your scholarship. Once again, congratulations, and we look forward to your return to our school in the fall.
Sincerely,
Madeline Houston
Director
P.S. Melinda …, we’re so proud of you accomplishments. I can’t think of a more deserving student than you. Congra
t
ul
a
tions!
M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY
April 8
I made it!!!! I can’t believe it, but the letter came today confirming my acceptance into the best classical-dance training program in the whole country!!! Mom and I shouted and screeched and danced all around the kitchen when I read the letter to her
.
In June, Mom and I fly up to Washington, D.C. Then Mom comes home and I stay up there two whole months doing the hardest, most disciplined work of my life! I’m excited, but scared too. I’ll miss seeing Bailey every day. I’ll miss Zorita’s soft purr. I’ll miss e-mailing Jesse. The competition will be fierce, but I’ve always wanted this
.
I know that getting into the corps of a good ballet troupe is so very competitive that some of the girls would push you down a flight of stairs if they thought it might eliminate competition and better their chances. (What I just wrote sounds hateful, but it’s the gospel truth!) Gosh, I hope I don’t make any enemies
.
Stop it, Melinda!!! (Sometimes I have to be stern with myself.) Just go and dance and learn!
“Hello, Melinda. It’s me, Jesse.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
“You’re calling me? From California? Is—is everything all right?”
“Of course. When I got your e-mail about being accepted into the Washington program, I asked Mom if I could call you and she said I could, so here I am.”
“Oh, Jesse … this is so sweet of you. Really. I—I haven’t heard your voice in years.”
“How do I sound?”
“Great.”
“You too. I’m kicked about your getting picked. I mean, I know how much you love ballet.”
“But it’s going to be hard, Jesse. I mean this is a whole different level.”
“You scared?”
“A little.”
“You’re going to be the best.”
“I just hope I don’t embarrass myself. Some of the girls are sixteen and seventeen and ready to go off to real dance troupes. Dance masters come to watch us and pick the best and dismiss the others. Imagine, training all your life only to be told you’re not ‘suitable.’ It’s a crusher.”
“That won’t happen to you, Melinda. When you’re sixteen, they’ll fight over who’ll get you.”
“I hope! But enough about me. What about you, Jesse? Are you going to New York to see your father again this summer?”
“I can’t get out of it.”
“Promise me you’ll give them another chance, OK?”
“I’ll give them another chance. Um … Mom’s making signs at me to hang up, so I’ve got to go.”
“Thanks for calling. It means a lot to me.”
“Write me from Washington. If you have the time, I mean.”
“I’ll find the time. Goodbye, Jesse.”
“Bye. You know what? I miss you … even after all these years.”
June 23
Dear Melinda
,
I miss you like crazy! But I know you’re loving it. Boy, from your letter, it sure sounds like you’re really working hard. I can’t believe you’re not feeling good. What a pain to be up there competing with all those prima donnas and not feeling good
.
Listen, I’m gonna bust if I don’t tell you something. I was saving it till you got home, but I can’t wait another minute. Here goes. I went to the mall last Friday and ran into Peter Keating. (Remember, I had a thing for him in September, but he was in high school and my parents squashed it.) Anyway, Pete asked me to go to the movie playing at the mall and I said “Sure.” Inside it was practically empty and the theater was totally dark, and then Pete slid his arm around me and the next thing I knew he was KISSING me! Wow, I thought my nail polish would melt. It was SO hot! (And I don’t mean the temperature.)
So now Pete and I are “on” again and he’s coming over this Saturday while I baby-sit the twins and Mom and Bill go shopping. My plan is to lose the twins (temporarily) and practice kissing Pete. Gotta run now. More after Saturday!
Hugs,
Bailey
P.S. Sure wish you were going to be here for my birthday!
July 4
Dear Bailey
,
First, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! This is our only day off, so I’m answering your letter before classes begin again in the morning. That’s how great a friend you are! Careful with Pete. Don’t practice too much kissing because it might lead to something else. Sorry if I sound like your mother, but I only want you to BE CAREFUL
.
I think I’m trying too hard. My timing’s off and the dance master embarrassed me in front of the whole class yesterday. I just couldn’t keep up and she really snapped at me. Some of the girls giggled (competition, you know). I could have sunk through the floor. I’ve got bruises all up and down my legs too, probably from too much barre work. I’ve been putting on stage makeup to cover the purple blotches, but my bunkmate noticed them last night and said I should tell our trainer. Fat chance! I’m not about to whine and complain about a few bruises
.
Have you been to my house to visit Zorita? You said you would, so don’t get too focused on Pete that you forget my poor lonely cat (who I’m sure misses me and wonders why I don’t sleep in my bedroom every night)
.
Well, we’re heading into town to listen to Pops in the Park and watch the fireworks show over the Potomac River. I plan to sleep in the van all the way there and back! Write soon!
Melinda (who wishes she felt better!)
TO:
Lenny
SUBJECT:
911
Honey, I know you’re 40,000 feet over the Atlantic right now, but you’ll pick this up when you land. I’ve received a call from Washington. Melinda has collapsed and has been taken to Georgetown University Hospital. The doctors think it’s exhaustion. I’m on my way to the airport and I’m frantic. I can’t get to Washington fast enough. Call the hospital as soon as you get this. I don’t care about the six-hour time difference. Dear God, I hope she’s all right. I hate that she’s alone until I get there.
Elana
M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY
July 8
This has to be the MOST embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me! One minute I was in class doing a plié, my arms arched, my back perfectly aligned: the next minute, I woke up on the floor of the dance studio. Thinking back, I did feel dizzy and light-headed, and suddenly everything went to spinning. I felt hot all over and the music sounded like it was coming through a tunnel, then my stomach felt funny, and then came the floor and people screeching and the master holding my hands and rubbing my face. Someone stuck a wadded towel under my head and someone else lifted my feet. And voices kept saying, “Call an ambulance.”
By the time the medics arrived, I was sitting up and feeling better, but I had to go to the ER and get checked out. The hospital called Mom, who came all the way up from Atlanta, and now I’m in a hospital room and she’s huddling with some doctors in the hall. She said Dad’s on his way back from Paris. I’m mortified! But I’m tired too. I’ll bet I’m anemic, like Patti Johnson was last year. The doctors kept asking me questions in the ER and now it occurs to me that they were trying to find out if I’m a bulimic
UGH! How gross … sticking a finger down your throat to make yourself throw up just to lose weight. But I am losing weight. (I sort of fudged to the doctor when he asked my normal weight.) But I’m NOT bulimic. No way!