Oh My Goth

by Gena Showalter

  “Not confident,” I say as I sit beside her. “Numb.”

  “But you’re working on it, right?”

  “Right. I hope to experience true happiness tonight.” Before, when we first made the reality switch, I worried what would happen if I fell for Clarik, then returned to real life, where he considers me a bad bet, where he might not give me a second chance. I let the possibility get away from me for a while, but no longer.

  I’m terrified of losing this version of him. But then, part of dealing with my pain is facing my fears.

  Full steam ahead. No risk, no reward. I bump Mercedes’s shoulder. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

  She looks away. “Being around you is tough, okay? I think about all the ways I’ve hurt you, all the things I wish I could undo.”

  Hey, that’s a start. “Would it make you feel better to know I no longer hate you? Now I only mildly dislike you.”

  The briefest smile appears. “Your friends...my friends. Linnie is basically an outcast in her own home—her parents act as if she’s not there. Kimberly is constantly surrounded by creeps, and both girls are grief-stricken about Robb. Judging by everything they’ve said, he was an amazing guy.”

  Pang. “He was. He is.”

  “They go through so much crap at home. They didn’t need me making everything worse at school. Now, I don’t know how to help them, or how to build them up.”

  Pang, pang. “I had years to build them up and didn’t. I only made things worse.”

  As for my new “friend”... Mercedes told me Charlee Ann’s situation. Her parents have no boundaries for her. They lead busy lives, and don’t really have time for her, don’t really care what she does. That’s got to hurt.

  “Empathizing sucks,” Mercedes grumbles.

  Hear, hear. “It’s good for us, though. I’m finally coming back to life.”

  “What’s that like?”

  “You’ve had your wisdom teeth pulled, right?” When she nods, I say, “Remember how your mouth tingled and throbbed when the numbing shots wear off? That’s how I’ve felt since the switch, every second of every day.”

  Her chin trembles, but she blinks her eyes and swallows, and her expression clears. “So. Is this your first date, ever?”

  Officially? “Yes.”

  “Do you want my advice?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” I shake my head for emphasis.

  “Too bad. Boys are not the be-all and end-all. Don’t find your happiness in Clarik. He’s human, and he’s flawed. He’s going to make mistakes. Find your happiness inside yourself.”

  That is the most profound thing she has ever said, and it’s clear all this soul-searching has been good for her. “Speaking of boys, what’s the deal with you and Bobby? Why’d you keep getting back together with him? By the way, I wanted to strangle him every time I heard he cheated on you.”

  “Thank you,” she says, gifting me with a full smile. “Half the time, he was sweet and kind. I loved him then. The other half, he was cruel and hateful. That’s when he would sleep with any girl he could get.”

  “You’re worth so much more than half of a guy’s affections.”

  “Am I, though?” With a heavy sigh, she falls back on the mattress. “This sucks. You’re going on a date, and I’m stuck here like I’m toxic waste!”

  “Pick up Linnie and Kimberly and meet me at Charlee Ann’s party.”

  “No way. We weren’t invited.”

  Oh, how the tides have turned. The old Jade would have gloated. This new Jade wants her ally at her side.

  New Jade. The description fits. I am different. “Girl, our school might as well change its name to Leighton High. I own it. If I want you at a party, you get to go to a party.”

  “Power hasn’t gone to your head at all.” She thinks for a minute, heaves another sigh. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

  A knock sounds at the front door, and I gulp. Once again, my heart speeds into overdrive and my palms begin to sweat.

  “Jade,” my dad calls. “A boy named Clarik is here.”

  “Coming.” I grab my phone only to freeze in place, my feet as heavy as boulders.

  “You’ve got this,” Mercedes says. “You could spill pop all over him, leave the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to your shoe and talk for hours with spinach in your teeth, and he’d still like you. The way he looks at you...” She fans her cheeks.

  The weight lifts, and I lean over to kiss her cheek. Part of being New Jade is being better about showing affection.

  Her eyes widen as her hand flutters to her face, and I dash out the door. My dad looms in the entryway, his arms crossed over his chest. Clarik is a few feet away, taller, wider, his arms anchored behind his back.

  Awareness punches me in the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. His dark hair is windblown and spiked. A black T-shirt hugs his muscular chest, and a pair of ripped jeans reveals different sections of his bronzed thighs.

  Every horror I’ve endured in this fake world? Suddenly worth it.

  “No drinking and driving,” my dad says. “No texting and driving. No doing drugs of any kind.”

  “Daaa-aaad. You’re ruining all our plans,” I say with a pout. “If you tell me to leave my bag of cocaine here, I’m going to flip out.”

  His eyes narrow to tiny slits. “Ha ha. Very not funny.” He pats the top of my head. “You better have fun, young lady, but not too much.”

  I join Clarik on the porch. He turns, quickly thrusting his arms in front of his body, so that my dad is never able to catch a glimpse of them. It’s an odd move, awkward even.

  At the truck, he opens my door and helps me in, moonlight glinting over fresh bruises on his knuckles. Ah. He got in a fight.

  As I settle in my seat, he reaches out to toy with the ends of my hair. “You look... You are so beautiful.”

  Warmth suffuses my cheeks, and shivers rush down my spine. “Thank you. And you look...delicious. But I’m not going to let you distract me—yet. You got into a fight.”

  A blank mask shutters his expression, but he doesn’t deny it. “I did.”

  When he offers no more details, I push. “With whom?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He pulls back, intending to escape to the driver’s seat, but I latch onto his wrist, holding him in place. “You hungry?”

  “It matters to me,” I say, ignoring his question. “You matter.”

  “Do I?” He leans toward me, closer and closer, not stopping until our lips are only a whisper apart.

  My cheeks heat another degree, making me feel feverish. Butterflies even take flight inside me. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. My first kiss.

  Except he simply brushes the tip of his nose against mine. “You were right. Bobby ambushed me. But he soon learned the error of his ways. When I fight, I do not lose. Ever.”

  Concern overshadows desire. “You’re okay, though?”

  “Better than.” He reaches past me, and when he straightens, he’s holding a bouquet of roses. There’s one of every color. White, yellow. Pink, red. Blue and green. Orange and violet. “Your first date should be your best date.”

  Annnd desire overshadows concern. I think my bones are liquefying. “This,” I say, “is something I’m living for.”

  He’s grinning as he reaches past me again...and hands me a chocolate bar. “I asked Mercedes about your favorite dessert. She said you only drink protein shakes at home but checked the flavors you prefer and we deduced chocolate brownie is your favorite.”

  No one has ever gone to so much trouble just to make me happy. Trembling, I accept the candy bar, hug it to my chest, then lift the flowers to my nose and inhale deeply. The floral scent fogs my head, and my eyes begin to burn.

  He ghosts two fingers along my jaw, and says, “You have no idea how many florists I had to visit before I found one wh
o sells something other than black flowers.”

  “Thank you,” I manage to croak. I wish I’d gotten him something. Even a small token to let him know how much he’s come to mean to me, how he’s helped me in ways I never thought possible.

  The most beautiful thing I’ve ever found in darkness—is Clarik. A bright light.

  I don’t think I’ll ever go a day without thinking about him, and taking solace in the comfort he’s given me. How am I supposed to give up this version of him?

  Will he be the same in the real world?

  As he climbs behind the wheel and we head off, a voice very much like Fiona’s seeps from the radio. “I remember the day we met. You were so somber. You stared at me with those big eyes, never saying a word. I’ve tried to give you space, tried not to push, but I think I made a mistake. Maybe I should have crowded you, pushed as hard as possible.”

  As the woman speaks, I swear someone is stabbing my temples with a butter knife. I swallow a whimper, blink back tears. Inhale—can’t breathe, need to breathe.

  “You all right?” Clarik asks.

  “Fine.”

  A man who sounds like my dad speaks next. “What can I do? How can I reach her?”

  My temples throb even harder as he cries. Sobs, really. Big, choking sounds. Poor guy. The pain in his tone...it’s sharp enough to cut glass and mirrors the pain I’m currently fighting—inside and out.

  Clarik fiddles with the radio, and a soft, romantic song replaces the talk show. Bit by bit, the pain ebbs, and I’m able to breathe again.

  “You’re not fine.” Reaching over, he takes my hand, squeezes. “Are you nervous?”

  “As a heart attack.” Attack...yes! I think I just had a panic attack.

  He snorts. “The saying is as serious as a heart attack.”

  “See! Nerves have fried my brain cells.”

  In a move straight out of books and movies, he brings my hand to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. “I promise not to bite...unless you ask me nicely.”

  Chapter 14

  No girl has ever been happier than me.

  Oh, what a glorious day.

  —Miranda Beers

  Clarik doesn’t take me to our favorite drive-in for our first official date. He takes me to an Italian restaurant, where every person on staff and every patron is Goth. The walls are black. The only light source is a single candle in the center of each table, as well as a French wrought-iron chandelier that is attached to the ceiling with chains. Very medieval torture chamber meets Gothic romance.

  The sight no longer shocks me.

  “I know you had your heart set on a burger,” he says, holding out my chair, “but since you insisted on paying, I decided we should eat something fancier.”

  As if! “I know you, Clarie. You’re going to fight me for the check.”

  He’s smiling as he claims the chair across from me. “This is true. But I’m not sure how I feel about being so predictable.”

  “Predictability isn’t something you have to worry about.” He has a thousand different layers, and every time I peel one away, a new one takes its place.

  We chatter about our day until the waiter takes our order. As we wait for our food to arrive, and even as we eat it, the conversation grows more personal.

  “It’s your hundredth birthday,” Clarik says. “Where do you see yourself?”

  “Oh, man. I’ve never looked ahead to the future.” But it’s past time I do so. “Maybe I’ll become a forensic anthropologist and study bones. I’ll probably Golden Girl it with Linnie, Kimberly and Robb, and I’ll definitely have a ton of cats. I’ll be happy.” I hope. “You?”

  Thankfully he doesn’t remind me of Robb’s death. “I will have a dog. Or four. Dogs and cats can get along, you know. I’ll also have a smokin’ hot hundred-year-old babe in bed with me, and I will be satisfied I’ve done everything on my bucket list.”

  Dude. I think I’m jealous of the hundred-year-old babe. “Let’s hear some of those to-dos.”

  “Travel the world. Freeze Mentos into ice cubes and put them in someone’s soda, then laugh until I cry when the cubes explode. Mail out Hogwarts rejection letters to all my friends, then tell them all I got in. Throw a party with fake alcohol to see how many people get ‘wasted.’ Put vanilla pudding in a mayo jar and eat it in public.”

  “So you’re a jokester.” That I didn’t know about him. “All right. Here’s a question for you. If you were a superhero, what would everyone call you?”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Thunderbolt. I strike fast, and I strike hard.”

  I laugh, the sound no longer quite so rusty. “Before, I think I would have been Miss Roboto. She can’t feel, but she can kill. Now? I’d probably be something lame like Madam Makeout. All I think about anymore is kissing you.”

  Those blue eyes twinkle. “I’m going to leave that statement alone—for now—or I will kiss you right here and now. So. What about your supervillain name?”

  Kiss me right here and now! “Probably something like... Dreaded Bringer of Dark.”

  “Nice. I’d be something like Beast Unstoppable.”

  Unstoppable. Yes. The description fits him well.

  Thoughtful, he takes a drink of his sweet tea. “What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever spent money on?”

  A painful memory surfaces, and I say, “You first.”

  “When I was little, I paid my cousin three dollars—my entire savings—to teach me how to use the toaster.”

  Another laugh escapes me, but I sober quickly. Here goes. “I bought a cup of water from a girl in elementary school. Cost me one dime. I thought she was selling it so she could buy a bag of popcorn. Turns out she just wanted to watch me drink toilet water.”

  Candlelight flickers over his chiseled features, twining with shadows. “If you’re trying to talk me out of kissing you later, you’re failing.”

  He still plans to kiss me!

  I need a distraction before I slide right out of my seat. “You mentioned becoming a cop.” I dip a breadstick in Alfredo sauce. I’m full, but the flavors are amazing, and the way Clarik watches me eat...even more so. I think I could eat until I burst, as long as his gaze stayed on me. “That will be your job. What will be your hobbies?”

  “I like working with my hands. Restoring old cars. Making furniture.”

  “You make furniture? Because I could use a new kitchen table. A round one.” And I like the thought of sitting and eating at a Clarik original.

  He wiggles his brows at me. “How about a bed?”

  I throw a piece of breadstick at him, and he chuckles.

  “I actually excel at tables,” he says. “And chairs. And dressers. Anything my mom wants, really. She’s my favorite person in the world, and I like making her happy.”

  And I like him. A lot. What I feel for him I’ve never felt for anyone else. Part of me wants to put up walls and protect myself from future hurts—Old Jade at work again. New Jade feels and deals.

  Happy, Mom?

  “You are a good son,” I say.

  “She’s a good mom.”

  When we finish our dinner, we head to Charlee Ann’s party. Music blares from open windows, and kids stumble in and out the front door. Some even congregate around the porch, laughing and drinking beer. Boys and girls have already coupled-off, several of those pairs making out on blankets that are draped over the ground throughout the front lawn.

  Are Charlee Ann’s parties always like this?

  “Stay on the lookout for Mercedes, Linnie and Kimberly,” I say. “They might be crashing.”

  “Will do.” With his arm draped around my waist, holding me close, Clarik ushers me inside the house. The living room is crammed with bodies, creating a sea of halter tops, short pleated skirts and piercings.

  Voices call out greetings.

  “Loo
k, Jade’s here!” This, from Heaven.

  “Hi, Jade. Sweet! Are you officially with Clarik?” Nevaeh asks.

  A girl I don’t know says, “Does that mean Bobby is available?”

  Everyone has to shout over the music, and I pretend I can’t hear. The thump, thump of bass causes a slight vibration to glide down my spine as kids dance with wild abandon. Smiles abound. Hands wander. Some of the attendees are even pushing through the crowd, playing tag.

  “You want something to drink?” Clarik speaks directly into my ear, warm breath fanning the lobe.

  Shivers cascade through me. “No, thank you.” Buzzed, there’s no telling what I’d blurt out. “Unless you’re offering water?”

  “From the kitchen or bathroom?” he asks, then laughs. “Too soon?”

  Funny guy! He leads me into the kitchen. Amid cheers and whistles, a group of boys dance atop the table.

  “Take it off!” Charlee Ann shouts with glee.

  One of the boys swings his hips as he tugs off his shirt. When his eyes meet mine, he grins and tosses the garment at me.

  Clarik releases me long enough to toss the shirt in the garbage, and he’s no longer smiling. Jealous? Why does the thought thrill me?

  An equally shirtless Bobby stands in the corner. He’s trying to walk away, but a girl is pulling on the waist of his pants. Finally, he gives in and stands still, even leaning into her... I catch sight of Mercedes, and my hackles rise. No, no, no! She needs someone who treats her right. Bobby isn’t that someone. Why can’t she see it? I mean, he just tried to leave her side because he doesn’t want to be seen with her.

  Although I suppose I can guess. She wants to recapture something of her real life, when things made more sense.

  She bats her lashes up at him and twirls a strand of hair as she speaks and he laughs. Then he spots me and loses all hint of amusement. He jumps away from her as if she pushed him. Doesn’t take a genius to guess why. He’s embarrassed to be seen with her.

  Okay. He’s not any girl’s someone.

  Chalk white, she runs off, tears glistening in her eyes. Whether she likes him or not, rejection hurts. When she passes me, I snag her wrist, but she wrenches free. Bobby, the tool, doesn’t go after her, but remains focused on me. One of his eyes is black and blue, and there’s a knot on his jaw.