Melody's Whispers (discontinued for a rewrite)

Welcome to the Boiling Isles

I've always had a talent for this stuff... mean, I grew up with it like it's second nature. Strumming, plucking, whatever; notes meshing together, finding myself lost in the sound, not playing anything in particular—captivating passersby in a magical melody. I grew up with an instrument in hand; I'm pretty sure I learned to play before I could walk. And she took advantage of how well I played; it doesn't bother me; I earn a little pocket money playing on the streets. Everyone tangled in a mesmerising trance; this is my job; I happen to enjoy it. And it keeps us from being caught. I don't know; everything seemed so simple: collect junk, set up the stand, set myself up around the corner, start playing, and earn cash. That was it; that was my day. And I would have been content with that if it weren't for her showing up just out of the blue. Eyes full of wonder or pure confusion. None of us were prepared for this. She turned our world inside out, upside down. Perhaps it's better... I still think I'd be happier being clueless some days.
   "Hey Melody, we're packing up shop for the day. Mama has Apple blood with her name on it."
  "Let me gather my stuff. I need a new pair of shoes; these have seen better days... I'll see you at home; I'm fine to walk alone, Ma."

My hair has always been a firey mess; this particular day hadn't been any different. A fresh coat of minty green on my nails matched my eyes; she always did say I had 'their eyes'. I don't know or care to know who she's talking about.
  "Hey, less dreaming and more getting ready; it's your turn to collect junk."
   "Hmm? Yeah, King, I know," I sighed. "I'm coming." I don't know why she bothers with this junk, but selling it gets us by. "I'm heading out; I'll be back by lunch. Byeee."

That's how my day started. Before I continue, let me tell you a little about me.

I'm Mel; she/Her/I don't care, I'm 16, and I'm what people call 'different'. I've Never attended school, but I've learned amazing things. I envy the other kids in town who all have friends, but I have my job, my family... no matter how strange they may be. Us weirdos have to stick together. It's just been me, my mother and King for years. Not that I call her 'Mum' or anything; she's a bit weird about that... Mummy issues with Nanna... I think she's scared of turning into Nanna, you know. Anywho, let's backtrack...

   "Yeah, just the one croissant, please." This place always has the best food; I stop by whenever I get the chance; the food around here is so strange, but wow, it's good. So long as I'm home by lunch and I have junk in hand, she doesn't care what I do. "I best head home." I looked around me as I got up, ensuring I didn't get followed.
   "Now don't worry, summer camp is only for three months..." I don't ever mean to eavesdrop. It happens occasionally, Especially when one doesn't want to be followed. We don't need outsiders.
   "I'm back!" I called, dumping my bag of junk on the stall table. "I haven't seen Owlbert come back, though." My ears pricked as I heard something strange coming from the back of the stall through the door I had just entered; Ma didn't react. Maybe she didn't hear?
   "Owlbert! You're back, finally. I've already gone through Mel's junk. It's time to go through yours. Hmm? Mel, what are you doing?" I wiped my head back around to look her in the eyes. What was I doing? Investigating?
   "Just daydreaming. I'll set up; I need to clear my head a little. Nothing a little music can't fix." I don't think she was paying attention. She had started lighting a book on fire.
   "Ah, excuse me, that's mine!" And there we have it... the one line that flipped our world upside down forever.

I don't know if it was bewilderment, maybe a heart attack; I don't know; I stood there, jaw agape; it could have hit the floor. Sure, it's rude to stare, but how could I not? The cute little round ears. The smell of lemons and young, naive confidence. She couldn't have been more than a few years younger than me. Her skin was darker than the tan colour of my own, which I certainly didn't inherit from my mother. This kid took the slightly singed book from Ma's hands and made a mad dash back to the door she came through. That wasn't going to fly. Not with this lady. With her key, that door closed and disappeared in an instant.
   "You're not going anywhere." Oh yeah, Ma scared this kid; Enough for her to escape under the back of the tent and into the shit show that is Bonesborough. Oh, I could imagine the terror this kid faced at that moment. I heard her scream. I can understand her shock. I let out a sigh
   "We should probably check in on her... I don't feel like a human death on my hands... not today." I told Ma, and she agreed.
   "DID I DIE?! Am I in the bad place?" Oh, that poor kid.
   "You could only wish," I told her, placing my hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. "Come. Ma can be... impatient."