Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

Dwayne calmly opened the door and steps onto the sidewalk. Melody tugs at my hand and darts out the door, too. She says to the officers that we’ll go get Mr. Hartman. I trip out of the car after her, our hands still connected. Dwayne tells Melody to stay put, but the officer holds him back. The officer says to let them go. He wants to hear what Mr. Hartman has to say.

Melody takes off down the street, and I race behind her, my eyes fixed on her bouncing braids. I don’t look over my shoulder. I’m afraid I’ll see the officers arresting Dwayne.

When we reach the studio, we burst through the front doors, and Melody calls out Mr. Hartman’s name. Artie pokes his head out of the room and ask Melody what’s going on. But a man in a suit comes down the hall from the other direction and says that he’s Mr. Hartman. He asks what’s wrong. Melody tells him all in one breath. She finishes with, “They’re going to arrest Dwayne.”

Mr. Hartman’s eyes widen, and he runs out the door ahead of us. Artie follows. I ask Melody why the officers think Dwayne stole the car. Her eyes well with tears, and she says it’s because he’s black, and they don’t think a black person could own a car like that. She sets her jaw and takes off down the street at a run again. We can’t catch up with Artie and Mr. Hartman, but we’ll try. Will Dwayne still be there when we get to the car? Or will he already be on his way to jail?

When we get there, we see the red Mustang, still parked along the curb with the officer standing beside it. Dwayne must be inside the car. Mr. Hartman is gesturing with his hands, talking to the officers. Artie stands off to the side, like he’s afraid to get too close. Then Mr. Hartman ducks his head into the car and pops out an envelope. He hands them the registration, pulls out his wallet, and offers his drivers license, too. The officers study the registration, as if they think it might be fake. But finally, they nod at Mr. Hartman and hand back the paperwork.

I wait until they’re back in their police car and pulling away from the curb. Then I let out my breath. Melody’s face is twisted with emotion. She rushes to the door of the Mustang.

Melody asks Dwayne if he’s sure he’s okay. He says he’s fine. It’s not the first time Dwayne has been stopped by the police, and it probably isn’t going to be the last. He’s in the passenger seat now next to Mr. Hartman, who’s driving us all back to the studio. Artie sits between me and Melody. He says that they pull black guys over all the time for no good reason.

Mr. Hartman sighs and says that he thinks we need more black officers on the police force. If more of them looks like us, they wouldn’t be looking at us as if we were criminals. Dwayne’s face is set in stone. He doesn’t look scared anymore, but he doesn’t look mad either. He’s just staring straight ahead. I can still hear the way he talked to the police officer, calling him “sir” and being polite. But the police officer called him “boy.” Grammy always told me that people who act with respect will be treated with respect. That sure didn’t happen tonight.

I tell Melody it’s not fair. Dwayne overhears and says lots of things aren’t fair. That’s how it’s always been and how it’s always going to be. And then, Dwayne grins. He says he’s just going to keep playing his music. Someday, he’ll make enough money to buy a Mustang of his own. With papers to prove it.

I’m surprised he’s not angry anymore! Dwayne may not be a famous singer yet, but he’s kind of already a star. He treats himself and other people with respect. The officers may not have respected him back, but I do. So maybe Grammy was right after all.

I think of Zoey Gatz, sticking out her tongue or strutting down the red carpet. Sure, she has lots of money, but she doesn’t act like she respects herself or anyone else. Somehow, she seems kind of silly to me now. Maybe when I get home, I’ll take down my Zoey Gatz posters and put up something new. There are plenty of talented people to choose from, now that I know where to look for them.