Fabulous Five 015 - Melanie's Identity Crisis by Betsy Haynes Page A
Authors: Betsy Haynes
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a
girlfriend. He's so particular."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," said Jana, and Melanie
could tell from the tone of her voice that she was only pretending to be
sympathetic.
"Yesterday my dad got this great idea to take him to
the zoo," Shane went on. "It sounded like a pretty good idea to me.
There must be dozens of iguanas out there, and surely even someone as choosy as
Igor could find a girlfriend in that crowd."
Funny leaned into the aisle. "So, what happened?"
she pressed.
"Absolutely nothing. The reptile keeper agreed to let
him into the pen, and Igor walked around for a while and then wanted to go
home. He said all the babes were stuck up and spoiled because of easy living at
the zoo. Can you believe that? So now we're back to square one."
All around, kids were laughing at Shane's story, and Melanie
sank back in her seat. Listening to him talk about Igor's love problems would
ordinarily have made her feel better, but not this time. Not when she was
feeling terminally depressed.
"Okay, everybody," said Mrs. Clark when the buses
unloaded just inside the gates of the cemetery a few minutes later and the
students from her classes gathered around her. "I have all the supplies
right here to begin making our rubbings, but first, I want everyone to pick a
gravestone. If it belongs to someone from your own family, you may use the gold
crayons to show that your rubbing is special."
"But isn't it bad luck to step on a grave?" asked
Marcie Bee.
Richie Corrierro crept forward in a monster pose, his eyes
wide and his hands raised like claws as if he were about to grab someone. "Of
course it is, my dear," he said in a sinister voice. "The ghosts of
the people buried there will rise up and GET YOU!"
Marcie shrieked as he jumped toward her, and small screams
rippled through the crowd. Melanie shuddered. She didn't believe in ghosts, but
still . . . they were nothing to joke about.
"That's enough, Richie," Mrs. Clark said, glaring
at him. "That's just an old superstition," she went on, smiling
kindly at Marcie. "As long as we are all well mannered and behave
ourselves "—she paused, looking at Richie again—"we have nothing
to worry about. Now run along, boys and girls, and find your stones so that we
can get started making our rubbings."
Melanie was standing a little way apart from the others, and
she shaded her eyes with a hand and glanced out over the field of tombstones in
the direction Gran Pennington had said she would find Cordia Mae Lee's grave.
All of the stones were old, and some went back as far as the Revolutionary War,
but many were even older, dating to the first settlers. They were mostly small
stones with scrolly writing and curved tops. Some had pictures of angels carved
on them or of sailing ships or open books that were probably meant to represent
the Bible.
After she got her bearings, Melanie went straight toward her
great-great-grandmother's grave as boys and girls scattered through the rows
like an army of bugs. She could see Jana three rows over, marching in the same
direction, but she didn't even look Melanie's way. Behind her, she could hear
Mrs. Clark scolding Clarence Marshall for broad-jumping over the gravestones,
but most kids, she noticed, were being careful to walk around the graves.
Finally she knelt in front of the tiny white stone bearing
her great-great-grandmother's name.
Cordia Mae Lee
Gardner
Born October 4, 1896
Died March 7, 1955
Gardner would have been her married name, Melanie thought,
wondering if he had been one of the young men who had written Cordia letters,
or better still, if he had been in one of the pictures in her
great-great-grandmother's album. Perhaps he was John, the one Cordia had called
her best beau, or Charles, her mysterious beau.
Reaching forward, she rubbed a finger over the words on the
stone, feeling a sense of relief. At least here was someone who would
understand her. If only Cordia were here to talk to her now.
CHAPTER 10
Just then Mrs. Clark came
girlfriend. He's so particular."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," said Jana, and Melanie
could tell from the tone of her voice that she was only pretending to be
sympathetic.
"Yesterday my dad got this great idea to take him to
the zoo," Shane went on. "It sounded like a pretty good idea to me.
There must be dozens of iguanas out there, and surely even someone as choosy as
Igor could find a girlfriend in that crowd."
Funny leaned into the aisle. "So, what happened?"
she pressed.
"Absolutely nothing. The reptile keeper agreed to let
him into the pen, and Igor walked around for a while and then wanted to go
home. He said all the babes were stuck up and spoiled because of easy living at
the zoo. Can you believe that? So now we're back to square one."
All around, kids were laughing at Shane's story, and Melanie
sank back in her seat. Listening to him talk about Igor's love problems would
ordinarily have made her feel better, but not this time. Not when she was
feeling terminally depressed.
"Okay, everybody," said Mrs. Clark when the buses
unloaded just inside the gates of the cemetery a few minutes later and the
students from her classes gathered around her. "I have all the supplies
right here to begin making our rubbings, but first, I want everyone to pick a
gravestone. If it belongs to someone from your own family, you may use the gold
crayons to show that your rubbing is special."
"But isn't it bad luck to step on a grave?" asked
Marcie Bee.
Richie Corrierro crept forward in a monster pose, his eyes
wide and his hands raised like claws as if he were about to grab someone. "Of
course it is, my dear," he said in a sinister voice. "The ghosts of
the people buried there will rise up and GET YOU!"
Marcie shrieked as he jumped toward her, and small screams
rippled through the crowd. Melanie shuddered. She didn't believe in ghosts, but
still . . . they were nothing to joke about.
"That's enough, Richie," Mrs. Clark said, glaring
at him. "That's just an old superstition," she went on, smiling
kindly at Marcie. "As long as we are all well mannered and behave
ourselves "—she paused, looking at Richie again—"we have nothing
to worry about. Now run along, boys and girls, and find your stones so that we
can get started making our rubbings."
Melanie was standing a little way apart from the others, and
she shaded her eyes with a hand and glanced out over the field of tombstones in
the direction Gran Pennington had said she would find Cordia Mae Lee's grave.
All of the stones were old, and some went back as far as the Revolutionary War,
but many were even older, dating to the first settlers. They were mostly small
stones with scrolly writing and curved tops. Some had pictures of angels carved
on them or of sailing ships or open books that were probably meant to represent
the Bible.
After she got her bearings, Melanie went straight toward her
great-great-grandmother's grave as boys and girls scattered through the rows
like an army of bugs. She could see Jana three rows over, marching in the same
direction, but she didn't even look Melanie's way. Behind her, she could hear
Mrs. Clark scolding Clarence Marshall for broad-jumping over the gravestones,
but most kids, she noticed, were being careful to walk around the graves.
Finally she knelt in front of the tiny white stone bearing
her great-great-grandmother's name.
Cordia Mae Lee
Gardner
Born October 4, 1896
Died March 7, 1955
Gardner would have been her married name, Melanie thought,
wondering if he had been one of the young men who had written Cordia letters,
or better still, if he had been in one of the pictures in her
great-great-grandmother's album. Perhaps he was John, the one Cordia had called
her best beau, or Charles, her mysterious beau.
Reaching forward, she rubbed a finger over the words on the
stone, feeling a sense of relief. At least here was someone who would
understand her. If only Cordia were here to talk to her now.
CHAPTER 10
Just then Mrs. Clark came
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