Oh My Goth

by Gena Showalter

  After school, Clarik drops me off at home. “See you in a bit.”

  Mercedes comes into my bedroom, watching as I change into my running clothes and shoes. “Do you ever wonder if we’re stuck in a dream?” she asks, sitting at the edge of my bed.

  “I wonder if we’ll ever get home.” If part of me now wants to stay... There are bad things here, but there are good things, too. “We’ve done everything I thought we needed to do. Dude. You’ve been nice to everyone.” What’s more, nothing has seemed fake.

  She blooms, as if she’s a flower I just watered. “In the beginning, I would look at people and remind myself that we all have our internal scars. I can’t see them but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and I shouldn’t add to them. Now it’s second nature. I can’t stop...even though I really want to. Life would be easier.”

  “I’m learning easier isn’t always better.” I sit beside her, pat her knee. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of you, too. I’ve noticed the glitter of happiness in your eyes. And the smiles! It’s weird to see you wear one, but a smile is much better than the panic I’ve glimpsed.”

  “I don’t want to lose Clarik,” I admit. “What if he doesn’t want to take a chance on me when we get home? What if he’s not the same Clarik I’ve come to know and love?”

  “Of course he’ll take a chance on you. You’re smart, pretty and halfway decent. And yeah, okay, he might have fought it, but he still wanted to be with you. Everyone could see it. But whether or not he’ll be different...that, I don’t know.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s backtrack. Did you just compliment me?”

  “Don’t go getting a big head. I said halfway decent. You’ve still got a lot of growing to do.” She bumps my shoulder with her own. “But we can’t stay here. You know that, right?”

  Pang. “I do.” I kiss her cheek and stand. Giving and receiving affection is getting easier for me, just like sharing and caring. “I’m going for a run. And I think... I think I’m going to tell Clarik about the parallel world.” I’m going to open up and reveal my fears.

  I’m going to take a chance.

  “If we want different results,” I say, “we have to do something different.”

  “Agreed. Maybe I’ll tell Linnie and Kimberly, too. If we end up in a padded room, we’ll deal.” She throws a pillow at me, saying, “Now go. Get out of here before you chicken out. Don’t trip and fall and break your leg while you’re jogging. Or do.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll miss you, too.”

  We share a smile before I head out. Dad and Nadine haven’t made it home from work, allowing me to make my way to Clarik’s house without further ado.

  No one answers the door, but I hear hammering in back. The gate is unlocked. An invitation if ever I received one. “Hello?”

  “Back here,” Clarik calls.

  I quicken my step to find him inside a detached garage he’s turned into a workshop. He’s shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his waist. Sweat beads on his bronzed skin, sluicing down rope after rope of muscle.

  “Wow. You weren’t exaggerating. You’re—” a banquet of sexy “—really good at this.”

  “I had a few more touches to add and thought I’d be done by the time you got here.” He’s seated in front of a round table, carving ivy along the edges.

  “Is this for your mom?” I ask.

  There’s a slight pause. “This kitchen table is for a gorgeous girl who claims she desperately needs one.”

  What! He’s building the table for me? Is this boy even real?

  No! No, he’s not.

  He sets the chisel on a long, retractable table, the metal clanging against other tools, some I can’t even identify, stands and reaches out to nudge my jaw closed. “Don’t even think about saying no.”

  “Please. The only words you’re going to hear from me are work faster.”

  He chuckles and pulls me close for a hug. “You like it?”

  “I love it. Thank you.”

  In the back of my mind, I think I hear my dad whisper, “Come home, Jade. Come home to us. Please.”

  Clearly, I’m going crazy. But that’s okay. I have Clarik.

  I cling to him, praying I never have to let go, and say, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Chapter 15

  Your choices, your consequences.

  —Jade Leighton

  He stiffens, but says, “All right. I’m listening.”

  “You’ll think I’m crazy,” I reply.

  “Jaybird, I already think you’re crazy. Which isn’t an insult. We’re all crazy in one way or another.”

  “Yes. Okay. I’ll tell you. Just give me a minute or twenty to think about the right way to do it.” I release him at last and pace in front of him, back and forth, back and forth. Maybe he’ll believe me, maybe he won’t.

  “What’s going on, Jade?” Concern drips from each word. “I can take it, whatever it is.”

  Words I have spoken myself. Forget finding the right way to do this. There isn’t a right way. There’s only the truth.

  I draw in a deep breath, hold it...hold...and then I do it. As I exhale, I tell him everything. The appearance of my mom in my dreams. Her warning. The way the entire world turned Goth overnight, except Mercedes, my unwilling ally.

  He listens, never once interrupting me. His expression darkens, and a familiar tension radiates from him. When I finish, he doesn’t immediately respond. Birds chirp, and a car putters down the road.

  Finally, Clarik takes my hand and squeezes. “I believe you.”

  Wait. “What?” He does? “But...but why?”

  “I’ve had dreams about you,” he admits. “About some of the very things you just told me. About our lives before, and this world gone wrong. Everything you told me helped me make sense of everything I’ve seen in my head.”

  I’m about to tell him he couldn’t possibly have dreamed about the real world, since he himself isn’t real, only to remember I’m living the impossible myself.

  Somehow, my mom paved the way for my big reveal, saving me from any skepticism.

  “Thank you.” Filled with relief, I throw myself into his arms. He falls backward, until we are sprawled on the ground, laughing. “Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you.”

  He rolls me to my back, his muscled weight pinning me down, thrilling me. A dark lock of hair tumbles over his forehead. I’m trembling, almost giddy as I reach up to brush it away.

  “If we go back to the real world, will I remember our time together?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll dream about it again.” A girl can hope.

  “Will we be this good together, though? I don’t want to lose what we have. It’s selfish of me, I know, but you are the favorite part of my day, every day.”

  His gaze... He has enraptured me. I can’t look away. “You’re the favorite part of my day, too. You don’t know it, but you’ve helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart and weld them back together. Losing what we have will shatter it all over again, but staying here would be selfish of me. I’d be hurting my dad and stepmom—my real stepmom. My sister who hasn’t yet been born. Robb. Mercedes.”

  “Jade,” he rasps.

  “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay,” I tell him, praying I’m right. “Just...kiss me so I can brand myself on your soul and you can’t forget me.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Mercedes and Nadine go shopping for tonight’s Fright Night, and I go to the school to help Charlee Ann set up. Heaven and Nevaeh are there, too.

  The twins are happy to see me. Charlee Ann, not so much. But she doesn’t ask me to leave, either.

  “I’m sorry I dumped all the planning on you,” I tell her. I should have gotten my butt in gear, should have created a garden party, with
paper lanterns and silk flowers, full of color, just as Mercedes originally planned. “I’m sorry I’ve been so rude and dismissive toward you.”

  Charlee Ann shrugs and doesn’t acknowledge me again until right at 4:00 when we finish hanging decorations and setting up tables. Only three hours, and Clarik will pick me up.

  “Thanks for all your help, guys.” She nods in my direction at least.

  I do as Mercedes has learned to do, and remind myself that Charlee Ann is human and flawed with a past I know nothing about. Hurts I know nothing about.

  I give her a hug she doesn’t return, and she reminds me of Old Jade. She’s rigid and unwelcoming and can’t get away from me fast enough. This is a dose of my own medicine, and it leaves a foul taste in my mouth. My friends deserved so much better.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I say, and she won’t meet my eyes. Her eyes are watery.

  I give her another hug before walking home, where I shower and blow-dry my hair. Then I do something I’ve never done before. I curl the strands. I have to borrow Mercedes’s curling iron, and watch a million YouTube videos, but I do a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.

  I also borrow one of Mercedes’s outfits. A light pink fit-and-flare dress with bows and ruffles and a pretty lace trim.

  * * *

  Here’s the thing.

  So many times I’ve said the outside doesn’t matter, that we must love people for who they are, not what they look like. It’s past time I acted like I believe my words.

  Once, Light Night would have been my Fright Night. Today? Fright Night is my Light Night.

  My bedroom door suddenly swings open. “Be honest,” Mercedes says. “How terrible do I look?”

  My mouth falls open as I take in her appearance. “Are you wearing black leather?” A corset top with black crystals and satin ribbons perfectly complements a pair of black leather pants.

  Her cheeks redden, the color spreading over her exposed collarbone. “Yeah. So?” Defiant, she lifts her chin. Thick black eyeliner rims her eyes, not the subdued brown she usually prefers. She’s taken “smoky eye” to a whole new level, and even traded pink lipstick for black.

  “You look beautiful,” I say. “But...”

  “But?”

  “Tell me why you’re dressed like that.”

  “Mom asked me to give it a try, okay? And when I finally agreed, she looked at me as if I’m worthy of her love for the first time in my life.”

  “You shouldn’t have to earn her love, Mercedes.”

  “You and I both know should and shouldn’t have no bearing on reality.”

  She’s not wrong. “Have Kimberly and Linnie seen you?”

  “Yes, and they didn’t like it.” With a huff, she sits on the edge of my bed. The leather squeaks as it rubs together, heralding the return of her blush.

  “You have to do what’s right for you.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay home,” she grumbles.

  “Please. You know you want to go.”

  “Maybe.” She sticks out her tongue. “But if I do, it’s not because you’re the boss of me.”

  “I know.” I meet her gaze in the mirror, a wave of affection washing through me. “It’s because I’m your friend.”

  We share a tremulous smile, and it’s as real and genuine as the bond between us. And there is a bond between us.

  “When we get back to the real world, I’m throwing a party. Oh!” She claps her hands with relish. “It will be the biggest party Hathaway High has ever seen.” She pauses, then adds hesitantly, her eyes now downcast, “You’ll come, won’t you? Kimberly, Linnie and Robb, too.”

  “Of course I’ll come. But are you sure you want to do that? No one will understand your newfound friendliness. Trust me. You might even lose Charlee Ann’s friendship.”

  Up goes her chin. “Friends have your back through thick and thin. I wouldn’t have made it through this without Linnie and Kimberly. They’re wonderful people, and they deserve my best. Besides, I’ve seen firsthand the baggage they carry. I’m not going to add to their load ever again. I’ll be a soothing balm rather than a thorn.”

  Even though I’ve been along for the ride, the change in her is startling. And absolutely beautiful. I hope the same can be said of my transformation.

  “I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but I’d like to hear it from you,” I say. “Why did you hate me after our parents split?”

  She plucks at a thread in my comforter. “When my mother told me we were moving out, I cried. I threatened to run away, and begged to stay with you. The thought of being without you...broke me. Then it came time to leave, and you said you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. You walked away, as if I meant nothing to you. Afterward I just... I wanted to hurt you as badly as you hurt me.”

  I close the distance, sit beside her and take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. Back then—until this whole reality switch—I became my coldest, my numbest, whenever something major happened to me. I see now that it was a defense mechanism I developed after my mom died. I couldn’t deal with the pain, so I simply shut down.”

  And I can’t do that anymore.

  I need to face my pain once and for all. I’ve gone head-to-head with a wave of it here and there, but never have I strapped on a pair of boxing gloves and actively gone to battle against pain and fear.

  Fight the pain, win the joy. And I’m so ready for my joy. Tonight, after the party, I’m going to do it. I’m going to war.

  Tomorrow, I go home. I know it with every fiber of my being.

  “I understand that,” Mercedes says. “Now. I’ve learned a lot about you these past few weeks. You’re a good person, Jade, and I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

  “So I’m forgiven?”

  “You are. I hope I am, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Outside the room, a door slams.

  “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at our decorator?” Nadine shouts.

  “I would never cheat on you, Nadine.”

  Great. Our parents are caught up in another screaming match.

  “Ugh.” Mercedes stands. “I’m going to Linnie’s. She texted to tell me Kimberly is already there. I’ll see you at Fright Night.” To avoid our parents, she climbs out my window.

  Lucky girl. I finish primping and though I want to sneak out the window as well, I go through the kitchen. My dad is there, slapping together a sandwich, Nadine out of sight.

  I move to his side and rest my head on his shoulder. “I love you, Dad.”

  Misery pours from him, but he says, “I love you, too, honey.”

  Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. “I’m going to Fright Night with Clarik. Don’t wait up, okay?”

  “Have fun.”

  “I will. This time, I will.” I know Clarik is supposed to pick me up, but I don’t want to wait to see him. If this is our last night together...

  I’m going to cherish every second.

  “And, Dad,” I say. “I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a much better day for you.”

  My pace swift, I dart out the door and through the neighborhood. The night is cold, brutally so now that the heat wave has ended, and I wish I’d grabbed a coat. Goose bumps break out over every inch of visible skin. Tree limbs dance and whistle.

  Behind me, lights flash. Kids laugh, and a car engine purrs. I whip around, my heart racing, part of me expecting another near-collision, as if I’ve finally come full circle. No, no, my heart isn’t just racing, it is pounding, pounding so hard, agonizing me.

  “She’s crashing,” I hear someone shout. And yet, no one is nearby.

  The headlights are so bright I’m momentarily blinded...then the car passes me without incident, and my heartbeat calms. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Beyond ready to see Clarik, I q
uicken my pace. By the time I reach his door, I’m shivering, my teeth chattering. He appears a few seconds later, surprised to see me.

  “Jaybird. Did you walk in the cold?” His gaze slides to the driveway, where only his truck is parked. “I thought I was picking you up.”

  I’m going to miss that nickname. Will he use it in the real world? “You were, but I wanted to see you, so...” I spread my arms. “Here I am.”

  He reaches out, takes my hand and pulls me inside the house. “Come in. Warm up.” Then his gaze roves over me and heats. “You look... Wow. Like a tasty treat I’m going to devour.”

  The cold air is forgotten as I drink him in. He is gorgeous in a white button-down and black slacks. And his house—

  I gasp. This is the first time I’ve been inside. His home is mine, preswitch. Same layout. Same colorful walls, same “country chic” furnishings. Only these furnishings Clarik built for his mom.

  Considering everything about the switch has meant something, I can only assume this is supposed to be an example of symbolism. That Clarik has become my home.

  With the interior, there are only two differences that I can see. The beam anchored to the living room wall has pictures of Clarik and his mom rather than me and mine, and there is a grand piano in the corner by the window.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I just... I love your home, that’s all.” I miss it.

  “Thank you. Did I mention I love your dress?”

  “It might have come up.”

  “It wasn’t the only thing,” he mutters.

  Oh, no, he didn’t! I snort-laugh. “Who knew I would look good in lace and ruffles and pink.” I’m out of my element, and not too long ago, I thought I would be too uncomfortable to function in this type of clothing. Wrong! My clothes do not define me. However, they help me express myself when I cannot find the words.

  “My mom is still at work,” he says, “and my uncle is out on a date.”

  We’re alone, perhaps for the final time. A sense of urgency overtakes me, sprinkled with a bit of sadness, but I beat the feelings back. I’m going to savor this night and enjoy every second as if it is my last...because it just might be.