Melody Ellison 3-Book Set. Denise Lewis Patrick

stepped forward. “Never, ever dreamed you’d cause me this much pain.”

      Melody smiled with pride. Big Momma said Dwayne’s voice was a high tenor, like Smokey Robinson’s. Melody thought Dwayne’s singing was somehow even smokier.

      At the last words, they all turned their backs to Melody and Lila again. The girls clapped and hooted and stomped their feet.

      “Aw, come on!” Dwayne said happily, looking over his shoulder.

      “We want a real critique,” Phil said, smiling at Lila. Lila grinned back.

      Melody noticed and leaned into her sister. “I thought you didn’t like Phil,” she whispered.

      “He’s turned kind of cute,” Lila whispered back, adjusting her eyeglasses.

      Melody shook her head. “What’s the name of your group?” she asked the guys. “You need a catchy name.”

      “She’s right,” Lila said. “You’re not still going by the name of ‘Dwayne and The Detroiters,’ are you?”

      Dwayne looked sheepish. Artie pointed at Melody.

      “Lil sis, you have a better idea?”

      “Sure!” Melody thought for a moment. “How about The Three Ravens?” she suggested. “You could wear the same outfits, like The Temptations! Maybe black suits with matching purple shirts and ties—right, Lila?” Melody hopped up from her seat. “And those moves aren’t cool enough. What if you spin one at a time—kind of bend and swirl around, like this?” Melody demonstrated. “When Dwayne is singing, you guys can’t stand still,” she said. “The Motown guys really dance.”

      Phil and Artie were already nodding, trying some different steps.

      “Yeah! Yeah!” Melody nodded. “What do you think, Dwayne?”

      “I’m thinking I can’t believe how good you are at this, Dee-Dee,” Dwayne said. “I’m going to get us some Kool-Aid,” he said to the other two Ravens. Then he motioned for Melody to follow him to the kitchen.

      Dwayne took down the pitcher, and Melody got out two packets of the strawberry powder and a wooden spoon.

      “Here’s the thing,” Dwayne said. “Dad thinks I’m still working day shifts, but I quit my job at the factory.”

      “So that’s why you’re always coming and going!”

      Dwayne nodded. “I got a part-time gig as a janitor down at Cobo Hall,” he said. “Now I have more time to write music and rehearse with the guys.”

      Melody frowned. “Daddy’s going to be really mad! You promised him you’d work at that factory until college started.”

      Dwayne shook his head. “I’m not cut out for factory work, Dee-Dee. I got something good with Phil and Artie, and we have a chance to make it great.” He turned on the water to fill the pitcher.

      Melody looked down at the swirling red liquid. Dwayne seemed so sure that he was right! Just like Yvonne always did. Melody wished she had their kind of courage.

      “Listen,” he said, turning back to her. “It’s not gonna be easy—I’m not fooling myself. But we can sell records, lots of them. And I believe that when people hear our sound, they won’t care what color our skin is.”

      Melody hadn’t known that was how Dwayne felt. “Maybe if you explain that to Daddy, he’ll understand. I could tell him—”

      “No!” Dwayne said quickly. “Promise you won’t say anything to Dad. We’re gonna knock ’em out at our audition. I just know it. Then I’ll tell Mom and Dad.”

      Melody stirred the Kool-Aid slowly. “I’m not going to tell a lie, you know.”

      “I know,” Dwayne said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “And I would never ask you to do that. Just don’t volunteer any information, okay?”

      “I guess.”

      “There’s one more thing,” he said.

      “What?” Melody set the spoon on the counter, and noticed that it was the same kind Dwayne had given her to drum on a pan a very long time ago.

      “I need a new suit for the audition. Would you go shopping with me, since you seem to know just what I should be wearing?”

      Melody couldn’t help but smile. “All right,” she said. “All right to everything, especially you telling Daddy soon. But—”

      “But what?”

      “Once I pick a song for Youth Day, you help me, too.”

      “You got it! Whatever you need.” Dwayne picked up the spoon to continue stirring.

      On Saturday morning, Dwayne and Melody ate Cheerios together and then got ready to go shopping. Big Momma always said, “Look like you have money in your pocket when you go into a store,” so Dwayne brushed his hair and put on a shirt with a collar. Melody wore a school skirt and borrowed Lila’s shoulder purse. She took two of the crisp one-dollar bills that she had gotten when she closed her account at the bank and tucked them into the purse. Melody told Dwayne she had decided to buy herself something special to wear for her solo at Youth Day. She was excited that they both had something to shop for.

      Dwayne whistled a tune but didn’t say much as they walked. A few blocks from home, they turned onto 12th Street, which was lined with shoe shops, dress stores, delicatessens, ice cream parlors, and all sorts of other businesses. On a Saturday morning, the sidewalk was crowded with shoppers. At one of the corners, Melody headed for the bus stop, but Dwayne kept walking.

      “Hey!” Melody called out, dodging a lady with two little kids. “Where are we going?”

      “Fieldston’s,” Dwayne said over his shoulder.

      “I thought we were going downtown, to Hudson’s department store,” Melody said.

      Dwayne made a face at her, and for a minute he looked more like a boy and not an almost grown-up man. “I don’t have Hudson’s money, Dee-Dee.”

      “Oh,” Melody said. “I forgot. You’re only working part-time.” Then she added, “We’ll make it work!”

      Fieldston’s Clothing was one of the older stores on 12th Street. Poppa had often told them how he had bought his first city suit there when he moved up from Alabama. When he opened his flower shop several years later, there were only a few businesses owned by black people in the neighborhood. Even though Mr. Fieldston was white, he’d given Poppa lots of good advice. Now Mr. Fieldston was long gone, and someone else ran the store.

      A bell chimed as Dwayne held the door open for Melody. There were three clerks chatting at the front counter, but none of them said, “May I help you?” or even “Hello.” They were all wearing blue jackets, and they were all white. As she and Dwayne began to look around, Melody noticed several other shoppers, but she and her brother were the only black customers.

      “The men’s suits are over here,” Dwayne said, nodding to the left. “But you’ll want to see what’s over there,” he said, motioning to the right.

      Melody saw a display of women’s jewelry, and she smiled. “I’ll just look for a few minutes,” she told Dwayne. “Then I’ll come and help you.”

      Melody hurried through the aisles crowded with clothing racks and display cases, her shoulder purse swinging. She stopped to admire some silky scarves. Melody wrapped one around her neck, turning to find a mirror so that she could see how she looked. She almost bumped into one of the clerks from the front of the store. “Excuse me,” Melody said to the woman politely. The woman didn’t say anything, but she watched as Melody took the scarf off and put it neatly back where she’d found it.

      Melody