Chapter 7: Before the Music Starts
Ben says yes to a date. Mel says yes to someone else. Neither says what they want.
Previous Chapter | In Between the Music Information Page | Next Chapter
The lunch tables buzzed with talk of the Homecoming Dance. Dresses, limos, who was going with who. It felt like the only thing everyone was talking about.
Melanie picked at her celery sticks as Britt spread a Seventeen magazine across the table like a battle map.
“I’m thinking something like this with sequins. Maybe red. Red says bold, right?” Britt tapped the glossy page with a perfectly manicured nail. “What about you, Mel? You going soft and romantic, or full glam goddess?”
Mel shrugged, managing a smile. “Haven’t really thought about it.”
“Liar.” Britt grinned. “I know you’ve thought about it. Probably daydreamed a whole scenario in your head. Admit it. There’s a dress, a song, and a mystery boy.”
“Yeah,” Jen added, not looking up from her book. “And the boy wears Vans and keeps glancing at you in English.”
Mel froze for a second, eyes darting to Jen, who finally looked up, smirking as if to say, Go on, let Britt know you like him.
Britt laughed. “Oooh! Is this about Ben Rhodes again? That skater guy you said literally zero words to since orientation? I swear you’ve got this slow-burn drama playing out like a John Hughes movie.”
Mel flushed and tried to change the subject. “I think red would look amazing on you, Britt.”
But Jen didn’t let it drop. Quietly, as Britt turned to compare shades of lipstick, she leaned closer to Mel and murmured, “You know you could just go talk to him, right? It doesn’t have to be a movie.”
Mel didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she was ready to make the move and break the silence. On the outside, she was still playing the part: bright and easygoing. But inside, she was all nerves and apprehension, a hurricane disguised as calm.
The sun beat down on the cracked blacktop at Whitmore Park. Ben dribbled slowly with his left hand, the basketball echoing against the worn surface of the neighborhood courts. Trev hovered under the hoop, waiting for a rebound, while Greg sat against the fence with his knees up, casually flicking the ball in a perfect shooting motion from his seated position- over and over, like muscle memory on loop.
“So, you going to Homecoming or what?” Trev asked, looking up at the rim, shielding his eyes from the glare.
Ben took a shot. It bounced off the rim.
“I don’t know. Kinda feels like a waste of a Saturday night.”
Trev raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather sit at home watching Rockford Files reruns with your dad?”
Ben clapped his hands for the ball back. “I’d rather not stand around in a gym pretending I know how to talk to people when I can’t even say hi to a girl.”
Trev smirked. “You don’t have to talk. You just have to go. That’s part of the Melanie strategy,” he said, passing the ball back.
“Obviously you’re not going to ask Mel, so ask someone to go as friends. What about Christie? She’s super cool, and there’s no doubt you’re just friends.”
“Yeah… Christie would probably go with me. As friends.”
Ben held the ball and looked over at Greg. “What about you? You going?”
Greg didn’t look away from his perfect-shot form. “Probably not. Not sure yet.”
Ben hesitated. “Melanie’s got to be going with someone already… Right?”
Greg finally looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes. “Saw her watching you today. In the hall. You were struggling with your locker. Again.”
Ben groaned. “Ah, shit. She was probably watching me try to rip the door off this time.”
“No,” Greg said. “She was smiling. Not ‘laughing-at-you’ smiling. More like… ‘noticing-you’ smiling.”
Trev smirked. “There it is. Scratch the friend-date thing. Just ask Mel. The Halfpipe Pact’s almost up.”
Ben shot him a sidelong glance and dribbled once, eyes on the pavement. “I can’t just walk up to her. I just freeze up.”
“Dude, you can,” Trev said, stepping in to swipe the ball. “Just do it.”
Ben chased after him halfheartedly as Trev shot and scored.
“Seriously, man,” Trev added, jogging back. “Worst thing she can say is no. Then you ask Christie and pretend not to care about the slow songs.”
Greg started pretend-shooting again. “But what if she says yes?”
Ben looked toward the horizon, the sun dropping behind the row house rooftops.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “If.”
Ben stood on the little platform in the corner of the Today’s Man shop, arms lifted like a scarecrow while his mom fussed with a jacket that didn’t feel like it belonged on him.
“This one’s more classic,” she said, stepping back and squinting at the mirror. “But the charcoal one has a modern cut. Very sharp. We could do a skinny tie if you want something cool.”
“Mom, I don’t have to pick something today,” Ben said, trying not to fidget. “I don’t even know if I’m going yet.”
His mom reached up and tugged the shoulder seams into place. “I know. But you’ll want options in your size, just in case. And don’t slouch, it ruins the line.”
“I’m not slouching,” Ben muttered, slouching harder.
At the back of the shop, his dad sat in one of the waiting chairs, flipping through a Field & Stream magazine like he wasn’t even there. “Let the boy breathe, Lynn. It’s a school dance, not a state dinner.”
Ben’s mom ignored him for a moment. “It’s Homecoming, John. His first one. It only happens once.”
John grunted. “Seems like it happens every month. There’s always some dance to go to these days.”
Ben shifted his weight. “Can we just go home after this?”
“We’ll stop for burgers,” his mom said, picking the lint off his lapel. “But first, we’re going to try this with the powder blue vest.”
Ben groaned and caught his dad’s eye in the mirror.
His dad raised an eyebrow and smirked just slightly, like a man watching another man fall into a trap he’d already escaped long ago.
It was after sixth period. The crowd in the hallway thinned just enough that Ben saw Melanie, standing by her locker, twirling her combination lock with one finger, laughing at something Jen said.
His stomach flipped.
This was it. Just like Greg and Trev said. Just walk up, say hi. Compliment her shoes. Or her smile. Or her eyes. Then just ask—
“Yo, Rhodes,” a voice boomed behind him. Doug, arm slung around Lisa, smirked as he approached. “Locker still giving you trouble? Why don’t you try turning the dial the right way for once.”
Ben’s face flushed. He looked back toward Mel.
But now she was walking off, Jen saying something as they disappeared around the corner.
He’d missed it. Again.
You spend all your time worrying, Rhodes. Always waiting for the perfect moment like it’s gonna walk up and introduce itself. What a joke.
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and looked down.
You’re never gonna say anything at this rate.
Ben was half-listening to the history lecture, doodling in the margins of his notebook like always, when Christie leaned over from the desk next to his.
“So,” she whispered, “are you going to Homecoming or still pretending it doesn’t exist?”
He glanced over, caught off guard. “Uh… undecided?”
She smiled. “Well, if you end up going, I’m going too. Solo. Could be fun to go as friends instead. No pressure.”
Ben blinked. “Like… you and me? As friends?”
“Yeah,” she said, tapping his notebook. “I bet you clean up pretty well. Just don’t make me regret it.”
He managed a lopsided smile. “OK, let’s go together.”
Trev, two rows up, turned around just long enough to shoot him a thumbs-up and a smug grin. Ben slumped a little in his chair, a mix of thrill and guilt swirling in his head. He was looking forward to going with Christie, but the part of him that wanted to ask Mel now felt further away. Like he’d missed a step he couldn’t retrace.
Mel sat in her room, staring at the phone on her vanity. Britt’s voice buzzed with energy on the other end of the line. Mel felt a flicker of disappointment hearing that Ben was already going to the dance with Christie. But how could she be disappointed? They hadn’t even exchanged words yet. Why would his first words to her be asking her to the dance?
“Mark’s nice,” Britt said. “He’s got good taste in cologne and got his mom’s Mercedes for the night. What more do you need?”
“I don’t know,” Mel murmured. “I was thinking about just going solo with some of the other girls.”
“You can, but he already said he’d go with you. It’s just one night. You don’t even have to dance the slow songs.”
Mel hesitated. “He’s not… expecting anything, right?”
“Of course not! He’s not a creep,” Britt said, then added with a teasing lilt, “Besides, it’s not like you’re waiting on skateboard boy to ask you now.”
Mel laughed under her breath. “You’re the worst.”
“Look,” Britt said, softening, “you’ll look amazing. He’ll look good next to you. That’s kind of the point.”
Mel twirled the phone cord in her fingers. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Yesss! We’ll pick you up at six. Be ready!”
She hung up the phone and sat in silence for a moment before finally getting up. As she moved toward her closet, her reflection caught her eye in the mirror. For a fleeting second, she imagined someone else standing beside her. Someone with nervous eyes and calloused hands. She shook the thought away.
The dress Mel and her mom bought was flowy, soft blue with just enough shimmer to catch the light but not enough to scream for attention. She tugged at one of the thin straps, uncertain. She stepped in front of her full-length mirror, turning slightly to the left and then the right.
Her mom sat on the bed with a box of jewelry open beside her. She looked like she was trying not to cry.
“You know,” her mom said softly, “one Homecoming dance, I wore something kind of like that. Powder blue, spaghetti straps, and way too much hairspray.”
Mel glanced at her reflection again. “You still have it?”
“God, no. I think your grandma tried to vacuum seal all my dresses from the time I was twelve though.” Her mom laughed. “But I remember how it felt. My date… Brian something. He had sweaty palms and couldn’t even slow dance.”
Mel smiled faintly, adjusting the hem. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Just saying, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Sometimes the awkward stuff is what sticks with you.” Her mom dug through the jewelry box. “He stepped on my feet a bunch, but he held my hand the whole night.”
Mel turned to look at her. “Did you like him?”
Her mom shrugged, pulling out a delicate silver bracelet. “I think I liked that he liked me. And that he was brave enough to ask.”
There was a pause. Mel took a deep breath, looked back at the mirror.
“I just… I don’t want it to be awkward,” she said quietly. “Like, standing around pretending to be cool when I’m not.”
Her mom crossed the room, sensing this wasn’t really about her Homecoming date, and gently slipped the bracelet onto Mel’s wrist. “Then don’t pretend. Be real. Be yourself.”
Mel looked down at the bracelet.
Her mom’s voice softened. “And if there’s someone you want to dance with… don’t wait around hoping he figures it out.”
Mel hesitated. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” her mom admitted. “But you’ll feel better knowing you put yourself out there.”
Mel stared at herself in the mirror, the dress catching the light just so. Her fingers touched the bracelet.
“Maybe,” she whispered.
And this time, she almost meant it.
Click above to read the Liner Notes for this Chapter of In Between the Music!
I started writing In Between the Music as a way to keep writer’s block from creeping in while working on the sequel to Hope Beyond Ash. What began as a side project quickly grew into its own story—a serial that surprised me by taking on a life of its own. Much of it is drawn from my own experiences back in the day. The awkwardness, the friendships, the moments that linger longer than they should… and writing it has given me a chance to revisit those feelings in a new way. At its heart, it’s something I hope my wife will read and enjoy (since she can’t stand Sci-Fi!), but it’s also become a space where I can explore characters, emotions, and moments differently than in my other writing.
If you are enjoying this story so far, please share it with your friends and anyone else that likes a good mix tape from 1987. Thanks again!
Thanks for reading Starships & Someday! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.