Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

The stool is cold and hard. I hold tight to the counter to steady myself. When a teenage girl and her mother sit down beside us, Sue takes the mother’s order: coffee and two slices of cherry pie. She writes it down, fills a cup from the coffee pot, and sets it on a saucer. But even after serving the pie, she doesn’t ask Yvonne, Melody, or me what we want.

When Sue steps up to the register, Yvonne asks for coffee too, and a couple of sodas. Sue doesn’t look up. Instead, she just says they’re out of coffee, though the pot behind the counter is nearly full. Melody points that out. Sue just stares. The air turns cold and still, like before a thunderstorm. Part of me wants to slide off the stool and run. But I don’t.

I remember Yvonne’s words: It’s important to take a stand on things like this. Someone has to fight for what’s right. I tell Sue there’s plenty of coffee. My voice isn’t loud, but it sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else. Yvonne raises an eyebrow, impressed. The White woman beside us smiles and agrees the pot is full.

By the time Sue pours Yvonne’s coffee, my palms are sweating. Melody and I get our sodas, and the ice-cold soda tastes better than any I’ve had. I feel like a regular kid in a soda shop again, but I’ve learned something, even girls like Melody and me can make a difference. Sometimes taking a stand means being brave enough to sit down and wait to be served, just like everyone else.