Near the exit, Sally stopped Marianne at a bench facing the castle. “Sit down for a sec,” she said. “I have something for you. It’ll cheer you up.” There was a wicked gleam in her eye that Marianne had seen before. It was probably another gift of Goth attire, and that would not cheer her up.
Marianne sat down. “I’m not going to wear it.”
“Give me a chance to explain,” ordered Sally. “I didn’t even tell you about my vision, yet.”
Hadn’t they been over this? Oh, that’s right, they had. The first week of beauty school, just after they met. And again, the week after that. And again, every single fricking week since.
Sally set her backpack down on the ground, unzipped it, and whipped out something with a flourish. Marianne hissed at her and snatched the dress out of her hands. She tried to return it to the backpack, but Sally pulled the bag away.
“Not going to happen,” said Marianne, looking around nervously, not that there was any chance she’d spot anyone to be embarrassed in front of. You had to have normal friends for that, and all she had were her Goth semi-friends. Rolling up the dress, Marianne shoved it down into her own messenger bag. The thing even had leather laces. “I hope you didn’t spend much money on that.”
Not answering, Sally just stared at Marianne with that familiar blank look on her pretty face. Oh no, the curious-android persona. There was no distracting her from what she wanted to talk about, and it was impossible to wait her out. Slumping down on the bench, Marianne laid her head back. “Did you have a creative vision or a New-Agey vision?”
Sally winked. “It was inspired, and that’s all that matters. I’m going to free you from your t-shirt and jeans fashion aesthetic, yet.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. The forces of darkness were never satisfied.
Sally closed her eyes and spread out her hands, fortuneteller-style. “In my vision, I saw you with me at Bats Day. You were a glorious queen of the dark, wearing a dress exactly like that one.”
Ugh. Bats Day in the Fun Park. Goths loved Disneyland all year round for the campiness and irony of it all, but Bats Day was something special. On this anointed day of the year, Goths from all over the world would come together and descend like a shroud upon every cheerful and overpriced corner of the park. The Disney Corporation didn’t sanction Bats Day, but it was official enough for the Goths. Marianne might go—might—but she wasn’t going as a Goth.
Sally pulled the dress from Marianne’s bag and stood motioning to it like a magician’s assistant. “Come on. You know you like it.”
“It’s too small for me,” said Marianne. “Your sixth-sense is faulty.”
“No, you were slightly thinner in the vision.”
“Nice for me,” said Marianne, jaw tight. Every time Marianne thought about her weight, she wanted to take up some mind-numbing hobby like alcoholism or glue sniffing.
Sally sat down again, looking confused. “Was that offensive?”
“No.”
“Liar,” said Sally. “I can see that you’re upset. Come on; just let it out for once.”
“I don’t have anything to let out,” said Marianne. “I’m fat and I know it. It’s cool.”
“Fat?” said Sally, glancing down over Mariann’s body, testing the word like she’d never heard it before. “Fat. Hmm.”
Marianne shouldn’t have said anything; she should have kept her self-hate where it belonged. To herself. Fat was too strong a word, it was true. Technically, Marianne landed smack dab in the middle of the healthy green portion of any BMI chart. But relative to the place she wanted to be, she was fat.
“Seriously, Marianne, you’ve got to find an outlet for all your negative feelings.”
Marianne glanced incredulously at Sally’s outfit and was about to respond when some of Sally’s friends walked up and interrupted them.
“Hey,” said Ben, looking at Sally. “Leaving already?” Ben Morales was one of the group that Marianne never mocked, even in her mind. What Sally called a “real Goth.” No stupid nicknames, no deep-seated insecurities that showed through in every statement. He wore slacks, combat boots, and a grey suit vest over a white collared shirt. He had a pink faux-hawk, a goatee, and a lip ring. It worked for him. Really well.
Sally looked sideways at Marianne. “Marianne was just about to drive me home.”
Was that a conspiring look? Marianne shoved the dress deeper in her bag, just for something to do.
“We’re headed over to Star Tours,” said Ben. “You two wanna come?”
“No,” said Marianne too loudly. She should have said “no, thanks” and explained about Sally’s curfew, but that would have required too many words. Ben looked a little taken aback by her abrupt response, as did his friends.
Sally just smiled sweetly at Marianne. “I do have to go... but you guys should take this girl. She needs to have a little fun.”
Uh-oh. Matchmaking. Marianne was still processing how much she hated this plan and deciding what to say, when she saw that the other guys hated it, too. Todd, another one in a trench coat, looked away quickly. Spiky-haired Andrew glanced at Ben for his reaction. Ben flicked his eyes to Marianne and then back to Sally. “Sure,” he said. He looked like he was agreeing to do someone’s laundry for them.
“No, I’m leaving,” said Marianne. She turned to Sally and spoke quietly, “I’m driving you, remember?”
“I can wait.” Sally looked around like she’d forgotten something. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.” And she scurried away fast enough that Marianne couldn’t follow without making a scene.
Marianne smiled weakly at Ben and the other four guys. No one had anything to say. “So, Ben...” she said. “How’s work going? Sally told me you work
