Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

The stool is cold and hard. I hold on tight to the counter to steady myself. As the teenage girl and her mother sit down beside us, Sue grabs a pad and pencil from behind her ear and ask the girl’s mother what she would like. The woman says she’d like coffee, and two slices of cherry pie. Sue writes that down, then turns toward the coffee pot, fills a cup, and places it on a saucer in front of the woman. But even after she serves the pie, Sue doesn’t ask Yvonne, Melody, or me what we want.

When Sue steps up to the cash register, Yvonne says that she would like a cup of coffee, too, along with a couple of sodas. Sue doesn’t look up and says they’re out of coffee. I can see the almost-full coffee pot simmering behind the counter. Melody says there’s coffee right there. Sue stares at us. The air feels cold and still, like before thunderstorm. Part of me wants to get off the stool and run away before something bad happens. 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 that there’s plenty of coffee. My voice isn’t loud, but it sounds far away. Like I’ve detached from myself. Yvonne raises an eyebrow, as if she’s impressed. The white woman next to us smiles at me and says the pot is definitely full.

By the time Sue pours the cup of coffee for Yvonne, my palms are sweating. Melody and I get our sodas, and I swear an ice-cold soda never tasted so good. Finally, 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.