Melody Ellison 3-Book Set. Denise Lewis Patrick

      “Mommy!” Melody yelled, as soon as she and Yvonne got home. “Mommy!”

      The radio was playing a Smokey Robinson song when Melody burst into the kitchen. Her mother was snapping her fingers to the beat while she danced in front of the refrigerator. There was a stack of her students’ math papers on the kitchen table and a pot of spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove.

      Mommy enjoyed music by dancing to it. Any other time Melody would have joined her, but not today.

      “What in the world is it?” Mommy asked, putting a lid on the pot. She stopped dancing and turned down the sound on the radio.

      “Yvonne didn’t get a job, so I have to go to the bank!” Melody plopped into a chair.

      “Explain,” Mommy said, glancing at Yvonne. Yvonne only shrugged and tilted her head toward Melody.

      “Yvonne tried to get a job at the bank, but they wouldn’t hire her because she’s black.” Melody was angry again just thinking about the whole thing. “I want to protest by taking my money out. Will you take me to the bank tomorrow?”

      “Yes,” Mommy said, without asking any other questions.

      The very next day after school, Melody held her mother’s hand as they walked through the lobby of Detroit Bank. Melody had worn her best school jumper, and she carried her bank-account book. Melody looked around the large room. She and her mother were the only black people in sight, and she was the only child.

      Melody and her mother stood in a short line, and for a few seconds Melody felt uncomfortable. Was everyone looking at her? Her cheeks were suddenly very warm, and her fingers felt sweaty as she curled them around her bankbook. Can I do this? Melody wondered. She had asked her mother in the car just what to say and how to say it, but now Melody was nervous. Then she saw a girl Yvonne’s age working behind a desk. She was white. Did she get a job when Yvonne couldn’t even apply? Melody took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was standing up for her sister—and for making things fair.

      When it was her turn, Melody let go of Mommy’s hand and stepped up to the counter, which came up to her shoulders. Melody made herself as tall as she could.

      The bank teller was an older white woman with red hair. “I would like to withdraw my money,” Melody told her.

      “And how much would you like to withdraw?”

      “All of it.”

      The teller raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?” she asked kindly.

      “Yes,” Melody said firmly. “My sister is really good with money and numbers, but this bank wouldn’t let her apply for a summer job because she’s black. That’s not fair.”

      The teller looked confused for a moment. “Do you understand, dear, that if you withdraw everything you’ll close your account?” She glanced over Melody’s head in Mommy’s direction.

      Melody slid her bankbook across the counter. Her insides were quivering a little, but she looked straight at the teller. “Yes. I understand. This bank discriminates against black people. I don’t want to keep my money here anymore.”

      It seemed like forever before the woman finally nodded and picked up Melody’s bankbook. Melody watched the teller count out ten one-dollar bills and put them into a small envelope. Melody noticed that the girl behind the desk was staring with her mouth open, as if she didn’t believe a kid could do something this important. Melody turned away.

      Her mother smiled and took her hand. “Good job,” she said. “You know, your daddy says voting is a way to speak up for what we believe. Money has a voice, too. What we do with it says a lot about what we believe.”

      Melody blew out a breath of relief. “Thanks, Mommy.”

      “I’m proud of you, Melody,” her mother said as they walked out side by side.

      Mother’s Day Surprises

       CHAPTER 6

      elody woke up early on Mother’s Day. She rolled over and nudged Lila. “Get up! We’ve got to make breakfast for Mommy before church,” she said. Lila groaned and rolled back over.

      “Hurry,” Melody told her. Melody expected to have to wake Yvonne, too. But when Melody looked over at her other sister’s bed, it was empty. Yvonne was already up.

      Melody hopped out of bed and ran across the hall to the bathroom. “Vonnie! Vonnie, we have to get breakfast,” she whispered so as not to wake their mother.

      Her sister nudged the bathroom door open with her foot as she finished tying a scarf over her head.

      Melody raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you usually take that off in the morning?” Yvonne often wore the scarf to keep her hair from getting too tangled up while she slept.

      Yvonne only nodded. “Let’s get the Mother’s Day surprises started,” she whispered, waving Melody down the stairs.

      In the kitchen, Melody opened the fridge and took out orange juice and eggs. Yvonne made coffee. Lila finally came down, dragging Dwayne by the arm.

      “So early,” he said sleepily. “Why can’t Mom just have toast and orange juice?”

      “Because,” Melody said, “today’s a special day to celebrate her. I’m going out to pick some flowers. Why don’t you set up the tray?”

      He groaned just as Lila had.

      Melody stepped out the back door and went to the garden she had planted along the side of the driveway. Only a few flowers had bloomed so early in the season. She picked what was most beautiful and took the bunch back inside to arrange it in a teacup.

      Dwayne had the tray ready. He had laid a fresh cloth towel over it, then a plate that matched the teacup, a paper napkin, and a fork. Melody placed the teacup of bright daffodils beside the plate, and then poured a glass of juice.

      “Where’s the coffee?” Melody asked.

      “Coming,” Lila answered.

      Yvonne had already scrambled the eggs and made toast.

      “She needs jam,” Melody said.

      “I’ll get it.” Lila went to the pantry and got an unopened jar of plum preserves that Big Momma had made last summer. “Are we ready?”

      “Hey, did anybody remember to get a card?” Yvonne asked.

      “I made one,” Melody said. She ran to get it from its hiding place in the pantry, next to the box of Cheerios.

      “Okay, everything is ready,” Dwayne said. He picked up the tray, carefully carrying it up the stairs with his sisters following behind. At their parents’ door, Melody raised her hand to knock.

      “Hold it,” Dwayne whispered.

      “What?” Lila frowned.

      “Let’s not do the same old thing. Let’s sing,” Dwayne said.

      “Ohhh! I like that!” Melody said. Dwayne bounced his head as if he was listening to a beat. He quietly hummed a few notes. The girls hummed back. From inside their parents’ room they heard Bo join in with a howl.

      Dwayne laughed. “Of course we have the only dog in Detroit with perfect pitch,” he said.

      Melody knocked sharply on the door.

      “Who is it?” Daddy said in his joking