Page 33 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
It lifts my spirits only slightly, and then they dim again when I walk into the center to find an audience of kids and adults sitting in front of a makeshift stage watching and focusing on a girl belting out a pop tune.
I search the room to locate Ben, hoping to get some direction on what he wants me to do, but don’t readily see him. I spot an empty chair in the back of the crowd, so I take a seat and wait until the presentations and songs are over.
The group claps and cheers as the girl finishes her song, and then an older woman steps up on stage and takes the microphone from her hand, thanking and congratulating the girl named Darnessa for her lovely song. She then turns to introduce the next individual.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s not often we get volunteers who want to get up to share their own stories, but we’re honored today to have Miss Sutton join us. She’s a student at New York University studying to earn her master’s degree in social work, similar to many of your counselors. I can’t wait to hear what she has to tell us. Let’s give a warm Holly’s Hope welcome to Miss Sutton.”
My jaw drops open, and my head snaps up the minute I hear her name. I scan the crowd from left to right, in search of Sutton, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me or whether it really is the same woman.
Sure enough, there she is.
Free from any traces of make-up, her face is clear and marked only with rosy, flushed cheeks. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail with flyaway strands making their escape around her ears. She’s dressed down, wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with the Morgan Financial emblem etched into the front pocket above her heart.
Her smile takes my breath away. She’s naturally beautiful, with an inner light so bright that it shines like a spotlight across the room.
I automatically move to the edge of my seat, leaning forward with the need to be closer to Sutton. To listen more attentively. To catch every word that leaves her full, gorgeous lips.
I let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding in as she speaks.
“Hello, Holly’s Hope crew! First, let me say I am so proud of you, Darnessa. You took the first step and did it!”
Sutton gives the thumbs-up sign to the girl who’d been on stage to sing. The group erupts in another round of applause until they quiet down again, and Sutton continues.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity to share my story with you today. I felt compelled to tell you about myself and why I want to go into social work so that I can hopefully work with kids like you someday.
“I had a friend when I was younger. In fact, we were inseparable until we went to high school. It was during our freshman year when I noticed some changes in her. She began changing her appearance, wearing a lot more make-up and different clothing styles that she’d never worn before.” She cringes a little, making a funny face that has the kids giggling with laughter.
“But those weren’t the only things different about her. She stopped wanting to do things with me, her best friend, and began hanging out with a different crowd. One that I knew based on what I observed and what I heard, were bad influences on her. She started smoking. Stopped doing her assignments. Started skipping school. And eventually, the last year of her life, she stopped going to school altogether.”
Although her recounting of this situation could be about anybody, there’s a realization that hits me like a bat to the back of my head. It’s jarring, shaking loose memories of Melodie during her teen years.
While I had been away at school, first at Yale and then in Philly at Wharton, Granny would fill me on Mel’s status during our weekly phone calls. And when I’d learn about her ditching school, or when Granny found a pack of cigarettes in Mel’s backpack, I would do my best to imitate the parent she didn’t have and discipline my younger sister.
A softball-sized lump forms in the back of my throat and stinging realization forms at the base of my spine.
No, this couldn’t be.
There’s no way that this woman is the same Sutton that was Melodie’s best friend.
An uncanny and remarkable coincidence, but not possible. The girl I once knew as Button was just a cute little girl, not a strikingly beautiful woman.
She continues, “It broke my heart because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to break down the resistance my friend, Melodie, kept putting up. And what I later found out was that Mel had started using drugs. I don’t know the specifics because, unfortunately, we lost touch, and I stopped checking in on her. And to this day, I’m sure there were some clear warning signs, but I failed to see them. And then it was too late, and my best friend died of a heroin overdose. I don’t know that I will ever fully forgive myself for not being a better friend to Mel.”
The entire room spins, and all I see is red.
Angry, grotesque red blotches cover everything and everyone in my vicinity.
It’s as if I’ve been stuck in reverse over the last seven years, stopped at a red light waiting to move forward, and this is the triggering event that propels me forward.
And all I want to do is yell and hate Sutton for doing this to me.
19
Sutton
“You did great,Sut. I’m so proud of you for sharing that with the kids.”
Ben wraps a warm arm around the back of my shoulders and squeezes before giving me a loving peck on the cheek. “I just wish you didn’t have to go through that when you were a kid.”
