“There you go again,” said Alvin. “Self-righteous to the very end.”
“Self-righteous? You’re the one who cheated!” Instantly, Marianne wanted to smack herself. Don’t engage him. She tried to remember that she’d wanted to break up, but geez, this was so humiliating. All her concern, all the time she’d spent working up the courage for this conversation. Tearing up on the drive here. Weeks of thinking she’d been making someone happy. What does it mean when a total toenail of a human being finds you worthless enough to cheat on? With Georgia Freaking Pike! Oh oh oh, she hated him, she wanted to stab herself in the gut, she wanted to run, she wanted to tell him to go to hell, and she wanted to apologize for something but she didn’t know what. But she just turned her head and stared off into the distance of the dark amusement park, willing her face to show nothing.
“I’m sorry.” Alvin shrugged, not looking sorry at all. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” Marianne shook her head. “I don’t want you to say anything. Please don’t call me anymore.”
Just then, Sally ran up and grabbed Marianne’s arm. “Marianne, I need a ride home right now. Can you take me?”
Marianne nodded. You could see Sally’s house from the Disneyland parking structure; she didn’t need a ride anywhere. Bless her! Marianne took a step back. “Um...” She had no idea what to say. “Bye, I guess.”
“Whatever,” he said. He turned and sauntered away toward the Haunted Mansion where the rest of the vampire gang had just gotten in line.
Marianne and Sally almost ran in the other direction. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” breathed Marianne, as they wove their way in between the crowds.
Sally squeezed her arm. “I could see that it was going south. But did you get it done?”
“Did you know that bastard was cheating on me?” she said, trying to cover the remaining emotion in her voice with anger.
“No. But really, the entire thing was a lie anyway, so you have no right to be upset.”
“Oh, shut up.”
They walked through Frontierland and down Main Street toward the exit, along with hundreds of others also done for the night, mostly cranky parents with sticky, wind-blown children sleeping on their shoulders. Half the kids were in costumes, too, even though there was about a month to go before Halloween.
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 at a bookstore, right?”
He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded. “Yeah, it’s great.” Stepping forward, he sat down on the bench a few feet away from her.
Seconds passed. “Do they let you borrow books?” asked Marianne, trying harder to get the conversation going despite his obvious lack of interest. “I heard that a lot of places let employees do that.”
He nodded and crossed his legs. The other guys were just staring off in different directions, ignoring her only a tiny bit more than Ben was.
“What kind of books do you borrow?” She was practically interrogating him. Nice.
Ben turned toward her slightly. “A little of everything,” he said. “What do you read?”
He looked almost interested; maybe she’d be able to get through the next few minutes without totally tanking after all. “Oh, you know... Baby-Sitters Club, Goosebumps—the classics,” she joked.
He didn’t speak, just opened his mouth a little.
Had she sounded serious? Her voice was a bit quiet, and she was fidgeting all over the place. Marianne tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not really. I was just kidding.”
Ben looked confused.
“I don’t really read Goosebumps,” she said slowly. She let out a breath and glanced around for inspiration. “Uh... Sally made me start this Hemingway book a few weeks ago, but I had to quit before too long. It was like slowly having my fingernails ripped out.” Kinda like this conversation.
The return of Sally saved Ben from having to respond, and he got up quickly when he saw her coming. Poor guy. Ben was a kind person, and yet, somehow, Marianne always managed to provoke that same confused, slightly frightened reaction from him whenever she spoke. And the harder she tried to be likable, the scarier she seemed to get.
Sally walked up to her and touched her shoulder. “Are we staying?”
Pleading silently, Marianne shook her head.
Sally turned to the guys. “We’re off, I guess. Marianne is too nice to let me get in trouble for being home late.”
They all said goodbye, and Marianne and Sally walked to the exit. As they passed through the turnstiles, Sally turned to her and winked. “I think Ben likes you.”
“So help me, Sally...”
Sally linked her arm into Marianne’s and hung on her. “Okay, fine,” she sighed. “Now is not the time, I see that now. I’ll leave you alone about Ben.”
Marianne peeked sideways at her. “Thanks for keeping watch for me tonight; rescuing me from Alvin, you know…”
“You can pay me back by wearing your new dress to Bats Day.”
“No way.” Marianne pulled her arm out of Sally’s. “That’s nowhere near an even trade.”
“Please,” whined Sally. “I already did my half of the deal.”
“That’s not fair.”
Sally shook her lovely head back and forth. “You’re wearing it, irregardless.”
“Regardless,” said Marianne.
“Oh, thank you!” Sally skipped forward and spun around in glee.
“I wasn’t agreeing. I was correcting,” said Marianne. “Irregardless isn’t a word.”
“Regardless—you’re wearing it.” Sally beamed at her.
2
Beauty & the Jackass
The next day, Marianne sat alone in her room dying of boredom. Everything was lame today—her stupid room that hadn’t changed since she was two, her 1950s one-story house that was in serious need of a paint job, her suburban street with its cracked sidewalks and weed-ridden lawns. Even the sky outside the windows was boring—no clouds, just an endless haze. She was finally free from her zombie jerk boyfriend; why wasn’t she walking on air?
She walked over to the radio and put on the Bauhaus album she’d borrowed from Alvin last week. Might as well get a bit of musical education before giving it back. She laid down flat on her forest green carpet and stared up at the ceiling fan.
The music was bad. She wanted to kill herself halfway through the first song, but that was the point, right? As Marianne understood it, music had to meet only two criteria to be considered Goth. It had to be depressing; and it had to sound awful enough that no one else would buy it.
Just then, Mom opened her door and stuck her head in. “What are you doing? You look like a weirdo.”
Marianne sighed. “I feel like a weirdo.”
“Now you sound like a weirdo, too.”
“Yeah, but you raised me.” Marianne lifted her head slightly. “Doesn’t that make you the weirdo?”
Mom thought for a second. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Fine.” Marianne let her head drop back down onto the carpet. “I’m the weirdo. Just me. Fine.”
Mom snorted. “Oh, lovely. Teen angst. Did you pick that up last year at school? I told your dad we should have kept you home.”
“Should have listened,” mumbled Marianne. She was homeschooled from third grade, all the way till junior year. Quarantine from diseases of just this sort. “Now I suffer from angst, in addition to social ineptitude.”
“Sorry, honey, but your people skills have nothing to do with homeschooling,” said Mom. “You were born with your foot in your mouth. Truly.”
“Hilarious, Mother.”
“Geez, Marianne,” huffed Mom. “I’m just joking. I mean, if you want to call me an annoying cow, just do it. Might make you feel better.”
Marianne gave her an exasperated look. As if she’d ever call Mom that. As if Mom would actually put up with it.
“Man, you’re cranky,” said Mom, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to the auto shop for new tires. See ya, kid.”
“Bye. Sorry.”
“Bye, hon.”
Mom closed the door, and Marianne decided that now was as good a time as any to try on the Elvira dress from Sally. Lethargic fights with your mother could make you do remarkable things.
She pulled the black dress out of her bag and searched for the price tag so she could remove it. But there was no price tag—only zigzag stay stitching and slightly crooked hems. Marianne’s hands froze when she realized that Sally had handmade the dress. Well… this definitely put Marianne’s behavior last night in a different light. It had quite the bitchy glow. She unzipped the dress and kicked off her shoes with much more enthusiasm to try it on than she’d had before. Guilt—enthusiasm—same thing. She took off her church clothes and put them away where they belonged.
Not really—she threw them on the floor. She fixed her underwear when she glimpsed her backside in the dresser mirror and stepped into the dress, angling away from the mirror so she wouldn’t have to see how things jiggled when she moved. The new position was worse. Now all the Muppet Babies on the wallpaper border seemed to be laughing at her.
She yanked the zipper up as smoothly as she could manage, stopping halfway up to loosen the lacing. Pausing to take a deep, constricted breath, she turned to the mirror.
Son of a...
Marianne heard a sharp snap as she tore at the zipper. She was scary, frankly. Lumpy. Shapes. She’d known the dress was too small—stupid, stupid, stupid. She ripped the dress off so fast that she stumbled sideways and slammed into the footboard of the bed.
“Fricker!” Marianne kicked the dress under the bed and just about bit off her lip to kill the pain in her foot. She slapped her hands on her bare thighs in time to the music and ran down her list of diets. She was already on a diet, but variety never killed anybody. Atkins, Low-fat, South Beach, Zigzag...
Just then, Marianne heard her neighbor walking up the side of the house to the trash cans, so she ducked down below window level. No need to torture Danielle with all her naked shapes and sizes.
She heard a lid slam closed and then Danielle’s voice. “Marianne! Get over here and watch my kids for me!”
Marianne smiled from her hiding place. The barbaric children next door were always a good distraction. She crawled across the floor and searched out her jeans
and tank top from one of the laundry piles. She dressed, not bothering with shoes, and walked over to Danielle’s.
As she crossed the lawn, the screen door slammed open, spilling out myriad black-haired children. School-aged, toddlers, babies. They descended with glee on the scattering of toys and bikes on the driveway, shouting out claims to certain items and threats if those claims weren’t honored. On her way to the door, Marianne intercepted one kid attempting to assault another one with a brick that had come loose from the planter. It was way too heavy for his skinny little arms, and he relinquished it without a struggle. She checked to make sure that all six kids were accounted for and then walked inside.
Danielle shouted to her from the kitchen at the back of the house. “Throw a box of Ding Dongs on the porch and lock the door.”
“Don’t you have Pop-Tarts or anything?” said Marianne, going into the all-black kitchen to find her. Everything Danielle decorated was black and slightly 80s-ish. “Jam filling is distantly related to the fruit group.”
“Very funny,” said Danielle. Her curly, dark brown hair was especially feral today. “Just don’t let any of them back in.” Danielle was all twitchy and nervous-looking, smoking a cigarette inches from the back window and blowing the smoke out through the screen where the cat had ripped a hole. It was obvious that she’d called Marianne over for the company, not the babysitting. She was so adorable that Marianne wanted to go over and hug her, but Danielle didn’t appreciate those kinds of gestures in the way that normal humans did.
Marianne grabbed a bag of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets from the freezer. “Some closet-smoker you are,” she said. “Michael’s still going to smell it.” Danielle’s husband didn’t like that she smoked, though he usually kept his mouth shut about it. The man wasn’t quite as stupid as he looked. “Go in the backyard or something.”
“Nu-uh,” said Danielle. “The kids will find me and want to talk to me. I bet the big ones are picking the lock to the side door as we speak.”
Marianne Page 2