“Thanks,” Melody breathed. The girl looked a couple of years older than Melody and Val, who were ten and twelve. She wore fashionable pink-flowered hip-huggers and a sleeveless pink blouse. Her flipped black hair was held back by a pink headband, and she even wore eyeliner. Melody thought she looked very sophisticated.
The girl smiled down at her, and Melody realized she was staring. “Thanks again!” she stammered and practically ran to the table where Val was already eating.
“Val, who’s that?” Melody nodded at the tall girl, who was sitting a few tables away with a dark-haired woman who looked just like her. Melody figured the woman must be the girl’s mother.
Val twisted around. “Oh, that’s Leah. She’s fourteen. Her mom’s in the group, too—I think she knows my mother. They’re from one of the synagogues, like I was telling you. I think they live in the next neighborhood over from you.”
“She looks cool.” Melody admired Leah’s outfit again. She wasn’t allowed to wear hip-huggers, but her big sister Yvonne, who was in college, had some. Then she turned back to Val and asked, “How come the Jewish people are on the housing committee?”
Val looked serious. “They’ve always worked on fair housing practices. Mom said that they had trouble buying homes once, too—people didn’t want Jews in the neighborhoods the same way they don’t want black people now. So we sometimes work together.”
As Melody watched idly, the girl Leah leaned over and said something to her mother, who nodded. Leah slid off the picnic bench and walked rapidly away from the shelter in the general direction of the carousel until Melody couldn’t see her anymore. Melody wondered where she was going—to the carousel? Well, maybe to the bathroom or something.
“Everyone! Your attention for a moment, please.” The tall woman, Phyllis, stood up, and the talk died down. “Thank you all for coming to our spring picnic. We have such a delicious spread here. I just wanted to take a moment to update you on our efforts. As you know, we have been asking residents in key neighborhoods to sign Covenant Cards, which say that they will welcome people of any race or religion to their neighborhood. As of April, over three thousand Detroiters and one thousand suburban homeowners have signed. This is a great success!”
Everyone clapped and cheered, and Melody felt her heart lift. She remembered feeling the same way last year when she and her family marched in the Walk to Freedom and heard Martin Luther King speak. It felt like everyone was joined together for the same goal: fairness and equality.
Phyllis spoke over the applause. “We must not let our efforts cease! I have fliers here letting residents know that our volunteers will be coming to their neighborhood asking for Covenant Card signatures. We will need to distribute these fliers this week.”
“Ooh, I can do that,” Val murmured to Melody. “I could go after school.”
“I’ll help you,” Melody assured her.
Phyllis sat down, and everyone started talking and eating again. The wind rustled the leaves, and a cool breeze off the river blew across the back of Melody’s neck. Val was chattering about handing out the fliers, but Melody was watching the girl with the stylish pink bell-bottoms, Leah, coming back up the paved path. She walked with her shoulders straight and her tanned arms swinging. Melody thought she looked like the model on the cover of the Teen magazine she’d seen last week at the drugstore. Leah slid onto the bench beside her mother and pulled her plate toward her.
Suddenly, as if she felt Melody’s eyes on her, Leah turned and smiled at her. Melody looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring again, but Leah rose from her place and came over to Melody’s table, carrying her plate of half-eaten food.
“Hi,” she said, sitting down on the bench beside Val, across from Melody. “Do you mind if I join you? I think our mothers are perfectly happy without me.” She gave a tinkling laugh and nodded toward Tish and the dark-haired woman, now vigorously discussing something. “I’m Leah,” she told Melody.
Melody smiled. “I’m Melody. Thanks again for rescuing my lunch.”
“How’s your new house?” Leah asked Val. Delicately, she forked up a bite of potato salad. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s great,” Val said. “I love having my own room. We painted it pink.”
Leah sighed. “Oh, that sounds so pretty. Pink’s my favorite color. Mom painted mine gray. Except she called it ‘pearl.’ Call it what you want, it’s still gray.”
“You could pretend you’re living in a cloud,” Melody suggested. Leah laughed, and Melody felt a flush of pride. Leah thought she was funny, or maybe clever. “I like your hip-huggers,” she told Leah. “I wish I was allowed to wear those.”
“Thanks,” Leah said. “Believe me, I had to beg long and hard to get Mom to make me some. She wanted me to buy my own pair with some of my babysitting money.”
“Babysitting would be fun,” Melody exclaimed. “I’d like to babysit to have a little extra spending money. And babies are so cute.”
“Yeah.” Leah hesitated. “But I’m saving up for something more important than clothes. Anyway—” She jumped up. “Let’s go ride the carousel. You want to? I’ll just go tell my mom.”
“Great!” Melody jumped up too.
To her surprise, Val frowned a little. “I thought we were going to ride the carousel just you and me,” she murmured to Melody as Leah strode over to her mother.
“Well, why not Leah, too?” Melody asked. “She’s so nice. Come on, let’s go ask your mother.” Melody hurried over to join Leah without waiting for Val’s answer.
The carousel was spinning merrily when they arrived, filled with shrieking children all clutching the brass poles and riding up and down on the brightly painted horses. The calliope music slowed and stopped just as they walked up. The scowling man who ran the ride clanked the metal gate open as the children filed off.
“We used to ride this when Val first moved here,” Melody told Leah as they lined up and handed over their dimes. “Back then she always wanted the silver horse.”
Val nudged Melody and gave her a look.
What? Melody mouthed. Val frowned and looked away.
“Aw! That’s so cute,” Leah was saying, smiling at Val. “Hey, there’s your old friend.” The girls followed Leah as she quickly wove through the animals until she came to the silver horse. “Hop on!” she patted his worn black saddle.
“That’s okay,” Val said a little stiffly. “That was when I was little. I don’t care what color I get now, obviously.” She climbed onto a yellow horse, while Melody chose a prancing red one.
“I used to come here with my grandfather,” Leah shouted over the music as the carousel started and their horses rose and fell. “He always liked the lion.”
“Was that when you were a little kid?” Melody called, clinging to her pole. The horse was more slippery than she remembered.
“Yeah. He could get around better then.” Leah’s voice dropped so that Melody had to strain to hear it over the music.
“Is
