Heavy Melody [Ch.1]
This is a story about a little girl named Melody Moonbeam. It’s all true, I promise! I didn’t make any of it up! It all happened just like this . . .
Melody was sitting on the couch one day, looking as adorable as ever in yellow shorts and a white tank top with a big daisy on the front, playing with her lizard, Blue (which was actually brown), and flipping her pigtails out of her eyes. Her mom came into the room and said, “Melody, I need to go to the store, so put Blue back in his terrarium and put your shoes on, please.”
Luckily, Melody was in a good mood and felt like going to the store, or else she might’ve thrown a fit, which she didn’t do very often, mind you—only when she was having a really bad day. But today was not such a day.
One thing that made her particularly happy that day was, her little sister, Minky, was with her dad, who was over at Uncle Alton’s helping him fix a fridge. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister; she did. It was just that, sometimes, she really didn’t like her very much. Or at least, she didn’t like her getting into her hair, which was more often than not these days.
So, Melody put on her pink sandals (the day was warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket) and rode over with her mom to the good old Wall-Mark store. As soon as she saw the big blue building with its familiar white letters, she recalled how embarrassed she’d been to learn that the people in the store didn’t actually allow little girls, now matter how artistically inspired (or cute) they were, to mark on the walls there. Of course, Melody had only been five at the time—not much older than Minky, really. She was much wiser and sophisticated now at age seven, of course; practically a ten-ager (age ten only being three years away from age seven.)
While at the store, Melody was allowed to stroll through the toy section, so long as she didn’t stray too far from Mommy, who was only in the big aisle next to the toys looking at low-priced movies on a rack. So she went through and mentally checked off all the toys she wanted—a play make-up set, toy kitchenware, and most of all, dolls. Her favorite dolls were Bratz; she had two of them already, Yasmin and Jade, but she wanted the whole set.
Looking over at her mom, Melody noticed she was really concentrating hard on reading the back of a DVD box, so while she was distracted, Melody crept over into the row with the boys’ toys. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want Mommy to see her looking at boy things, exactly; it wasn’t like her mom really cared which toys she preferred to play with. Melody was just sort of . . . well, ashamed of liking boy things.
It all stemmed from the one time she’d mentioned to her friends that she loved playing with her cousin Ricky’s robots and Star Warp men. They’d teased her so much about that that it almost made her cry, but it also made her want to play with those toys even more for some reason—only, she now wanted to do it in secret.
In the boys’ section, there were robots galore, but sadly, no girl robots. This bothered Melody, and she decided that, if there were girl robots, more girls would play with them, and then she wouldn’t be so alone in her interest . . . maybe.
Nevertheless, she perused the boys’ toys that gleamed like bright, multi-colored jewels in her eyes—the robot warriors from several different series, and even the weird-looking aliens of Star Warp (her favorite movie, though she would never tell her friends that!)
Mommy called Melody’s name, snapping her out of her daydream, and she started to walk away when a strange metallic but girlish voice called to her from behind.
“I am Girl Robo. Would you please play with me?”
Melody spun around so fast she nearly tripped and fell into a shelf full of Transformers. She gasped. Standing not ten feet in front of her, right in the middle of the aisle, was a robot girl exactly the same size as Melody!
“You-You’re a . . .” she mumbled.
“I am Girl Robo. Would you please play with me?”
The little cyber-girl, who looked a lot like Melody would have if she were covered in metal and wires and fancy lights and buttons, beeped and whistled at Melody, who backed away slightly in fear. Then, deciding there was nothing to be afraid of, Melody walked over to Girl Robo and poked her hard metal skin.
“Are you real? Really real, like alive?” she asked.
“I am—”
“Girl Robo, I know,” Melody interrupted. “I wish I could play with you, but I hafta go. Mommy is calling me. Hey, maybe I can get Mommy to buy you for me!”
She went to her mom’s side and grabbed her hand, tugging at it gently but urgently, and blurted out in a near-shouting voice, “Mommy! I found a Girl Robo! Can I have her, please? I’ll be good all day, all week, all forever if you buy her for me! Please, please, please?”
Running back to Girl Robo, Melody gave her a big hug and instantly felt a warm sensation spreading inside the metal girl that flowed into Melody and made her feel nice. She already loved Girl Robo more than any other toy in the world, even her favorite dolls (which, it should be said, she loved a lot.)
“I don’t know, Melody. That’s an awfully big and expensive-looking toy. How much is it?”
They both searched all over Girl Robo for a price tag, tickling her in the process, as she let out several tinny giggles and vibrated slightly as Melody’s and her mother’s hands roamed over Girl Robo’s body.
“Maybe it’s on the bottom of her foot,” Mommy said. “I’ll just . . . pick her . . . sheesh, this thing is heavy!”
An idea occurred to Melody just then. While her mother was distracted with the task of lifting Girl Robo off the floor, the little girl quickly looked at the toy nearest her and found a price—it said $12.98 on the package.
“I know!” Melody blurted. “Girl Robo costs a dollar and two ninety-eight!”
To which Girl Robo promptly repeated, “I am Girl Robo—a dollar and two ninety-eight.”
“Just like this one,” Melody replied, pointing to the tag she had read off. “A dollar and two ninety-eight.”
“That says twelve ninety-eight, Melody,” Mommy corrected.
“That’s what I meant. Girl Robo costs twelve ninety-eight,”
“I am Girl Robo—twelve ninety-eight.”
“How cute!” Mommy beamed. “She repeats what you say. That price can’t be right though. It’s too low.”
Melody scratched her head, then said, “Well, she says she’s twelve ninety-eight, and there’s no price tag, so maybe they’ll let us buy her for that much, Mommy. That’s why you should buy her right now, cuz later the store people might find a price tag with a gazillion dollars on it and stick it on her.”
Her mother giggled. “You’re something else, M-and-M, you know that?
Well . . . okay, I can see how much this means to you. You don’t get this excited about toys very often. But if I buy this for you, then I need to get something for Minky, too. It’s only fair. So, your job is to help me pick something out for her.”
“Thank you, Mommy! I love you! Thank you!”
* * *
There was a big hassle with the checkout lady, who claimed that Girl Robo was not in their computer and wasn’t carried by the Wall-Mark chain (Melody had a brief horrifying vision of poor Girl Robo wrapped in a big chain and being carried around like a prisoner by two menacing looking Wall-Mark employees, each holding one end of the chain.) But eventually, they were able to walk out of the store having paid only twelve ninety-eight for Girl Robo, and everyone was satisfied with this outcome.
Everyone, that is, except the store employee (who looked nice enough, Melody thought) who was given the job of carrying the robot to the Moonbeam family car. He huffed and puffed the whole way, but he was determined not to let a little robot girl make him look like a wimp.
Finally, they made it home, and Melody, of course, was eager to get Girl Robo to her bedroom so she could play with her properly, but Mommy told her she’d have to wait until Daddy got home so he could carry that heavy thing into the house. Mommy did manage to get her out of the car and into the driveway, but that was as far as she was willing to go with Girl Robo.
“I’m beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea buying that,” Mommy said afterward. “Who in the world would make a toy so heavy that no child could lift it? What if that thing fell over on your foot, or your head? Maybe we should take it back and get something else.”
“No!” the child shrieked. “You can’t! I just got her!”
“Do not raise your voice to me, young lady! I will take this toy back right now, and you’ll get nothing if you don’t chill!”
“But, but—”
Tears welled in Melody’s eyes, but she fought them back. She also wondered why it was that grown-ups always said kids were immature and couldn’t behave (and sometimes they couldn’t, but sometimes grown-ups couldn’t either!), and yet whenever she misbehaved, her mother called her “young lady,” which was another word for a grown-up, wasn’t it? Grown-ups were so confusing sometimes.
“Listen, you can play with Girl Robo out here until I decide what to do, but don’t try to move her on your own. It’ll be a while till your dad gets home, so you’ll have lots of time to play.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Melody responded, her tears retreating—for now.
Mommy went into the house, leaving Melody and Girl Robo outside. Just as the front door shut behind Mrs. Moonbeam, Girl Robo came to life, you might say. Now, you should know that some people believe that robots aren’t really, REALLY alive, no matter how much they walk and talk and act like people. And some robots certainly aren’t alive. But some of them, like Girl Robo, can think and feel just like you and me.
At that moment, Girl Robo stretched her steel and titanium arms rolled her head a little, her joints squeaking. Then, she walked toward Melody.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Girl Robo said, “that’s much better. I stood still for so long, I was beginning to get stiff.”
“You are alive! I knew it! How’d you get to be a toy at Wall-Mark?”
“I’m
not sure,
exactly,” Girl Robo answered. “I was
flying over
Chuckling, Melody told Girl Robo her name, then said, “Those little robots aren’t prisoners. They’re toys. Kids like me play with them. Well, usually boys, but some girls like robots too! I love robots!”
“I’m so glad to meet you, Melody. Why do think those jets shot me down, though? I wasn’t doing anything to them?”
Melody furled her brow in thought, then concluded, “Maybe they thought you were a tearist! Do you like to tear things up? I used to get into lots of trouble for tearing up Mommy’s magazines. But I just wanted to make pretty pictures out of them. I glued them to a piece of destruction paper and drew flowers and stuff around them. Or robots!”
She tittered at this last confession.
“Oh, I’m sure they were beautiful. But, I’ve never done anything like that. Why would they think I was a tearist? What’s so bad about that anyway? Did you get shot at for tearing up those magazines?”
“No way, but I got grounded for a million hours,” Melody admitted.
“A million hours—that sounds like a lot!”
“Well, I don’t know if it was really that much cuz I can’t count that high, but it was a long, long time. But that’s not very instresting—I wanna see you fly!”
Girl Robo said, “Okay. Would you like to fly along side me?”
“I can’t fly, silly,” Melody pointed out with a mixture of amusement and sadness.
“Oh, sorry. Well, I could carry you.”
“You could?” Melody’s face lit up, but immediately a bit of worry crept in. “Wait, you won’t drop me, will you?”
“Of course not,” Girl Robo laughed. “Even though I’m just a little girl robot, I’m very strong. Stronger than the strongest man on earth.”
Melody smiled—whether devilishly or angelically, it was hard to say. That’s how it is with little girls, you know. They can be devious and perfectly innocent at the same time. It’s all part of a little girl’s magic.
* * *
[To Be Continued]
