Jazz Funeral

phrase made her knees go wobbly.
    Chick said, “Listen, y’all. This girl sings like a motherfucker. That’s the long and short of it.”
    “Yeah, but she’s sixteen. I bet we got to have her parents’ permission or something.”
    Melody said, “Haven’t you ever heard of a liberated minor?” She didn’t know exactly what it was, but maybe they didn’t either.
    “I think they got to be older,” Tyrone said gently.
    “Look, nobody has to know—I’ll just turn black. I can get a wig and skin-tanner.”
    To her horror, everyone in the room laughed, even Joel—and not polite little titters either; great, heartfelt guffaws. She didn’t even begin to get the joke, but knew she was the butt of it. Dying had been a really good idea, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t gone through with it. Anything was better than this shit. Her eyes went out of control again.
    “Hey, what you cryin’ about?”
    “I wish I were dead!”
    “Hey, Mel, take it easy.” Joel moved closer, put an arm around her.
    Terence took a tentative step forward as well. “We didn’t mean nothin’, little sister. It was just funny, that’s all.”
    “What was so funny about it?”
    Chick started to laugh again, but caught himself.
    Terence said, “Somethin’ ‘bout the way you look, I guess. Those blue eyes, maybe.”
    “You are so unfair! Chick has blue eyes!”
    “Eyes aren’t the point,” said Tyrone. “The point is we got a sixteen-year-old young lady ought to be home with her parents.”
    “I can’t go home.”
    “Why not?”
    “I just can’t, that’s all. That part of my life is over.”
    “Ohhhh, shit. Ohhhh fuck.” Chick was moaning like he’d been shot. “You didn’t kill your brother, but you know who did. That’s it, ain’t it?”
    Melody looked him straight in the eye and told the truth. “That’s not it.”
    “No, that ain’t the whole thing. ‘Cause it’s worse than that. Whoever it is knows you know. That’s why you can’t go back.
    ‘Cause they’d know where to come get you.”
    Raymond said, “You been watchin’ too much television.”
    Melody twisted her mouth into a kind of ironic half smile. She shook her head slowly from side to side, as if to say, “Poor Chick. Pitiful. A candidate for the loony bin.”
    At least she hoped that’s how it would play, but she had a feeling the distressed look on Tyrone’s face reflected her own.
    “It’s not that! I swear it’s not that! Listen, I’ll prove it to you. Let me sing with you tomorrow and I’ll go back home and straighten it all out. I swear it!”
    Just let me have this one chance and life will have been worth living. I’ll die happily if I can just do that. I’ll climb up to the roof of that building and take a short walk to the ground. Just let me sing Ham his song and go.
    Tyrone gave her a hard stare. “You mean that, little sister?”
    “I swear it on a stack of bibles.” That was easy, she wasn’t a Christian.
    “My wife and I are gon’ take you there and walk you up to the door. You okay with that?”
    No!
    But she’d worry about it later. She could slip away after the gig. By the time they noticed, she’d be dead. “Just let me do the gig.”
    He nodded slightly. “You want it, you got it.” The room exploded.
    “All riiiight!” Raymond and Chick slapped each other high fives. Terence came over and shook Melody’s hand. Joel hollered, “Yes!”
    Melody thought she must be missing something. All this fuss couldn’t be about her.
    When it had subsided, Tyrone said, “You got a place to stay?”
    “Well, I had a hotel room, but—”
    “Where?”
    “The Oriole.”
    “Oh, shit! Kid your age at the Oriole? Oh, shit.”
    “It’s full of kids my age. That’s mostly who’s there.”
    “Well, you ain’t goin’ back.” He pulled out a wad of bills. “Joel’ll take you to a Holiday Inn, someplace like that. You really think you can turn black?”
    Melody smiled. “With a little help from my friends.”
    He turned to Joel. “You know that place ya mama gets her hair fixed? Take her to Louise, see what she can do. Maybe she lend you a wig or somethin’. Then go ‘round to Billy DuPree’s, get her a caftan or somethin’ African-looking. If she’s wearin’ something like that, her skin’s dark enough, maybe nobody’ll look at her too close. Maybe she’ll pass.”
    To Melody, he said, “A hundred dollars of that money’s your costume allowance. The other hundred’s an advance on the