12:15 PM

“So, what’s this guy like?” Tacita asked.

“He’s this rich musician jerk. He used to be Charise’s music teacher when she was younger. And now… now they’re a couple. It makes me sick,” S responded.

“You think she’d be better off with you?”

“I should think so!”


Tacita chuckled softly to herself. “S, I’m going to tell you a little something. Everyone knows how you feel about Charise, except for Charise. But then again, let’s call a spade a spade; Charise isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to relationships and romance. But your lack of action isn’t helping matters, you know. You think you can get a girl’s attention just because you’ve been nice to her?”

S shook his head. “It’s not to get her attention.”

“Then why?”


“I’m just happy to be allowed to be near Charise.”

Tacita groaned. “Man, you have problems. It’s not like she appreciates you or anything.”

“Eh?”

“You are so messed up.”

--------------

The trio walked into the quiet house.

“Make yourselves at home,” Ophelia said. “I’m going to see if I can find Elphie.”

She hurried into the next room.

“Elphie?” Emily asked.

Ophelia walked back in, holding a beautiful cat with Siamese markings and green eyes. “This is Elphaba, also known as Elphie.”

Emily peered closely at the cat. “A Siamese… with green eyes?”

“Yeah, she’s a mixed breed but managed to get all the Siamese markings. She’s very skittish; I’m surprised she let you come so close,” Ophelia replied.

“Her little brother’s a real pain in the butt. He likes to make loud noises while Lia’s holding her, just to make the cat scratch her up!” Cy added.

Ophelia gently set the cat down onto the floor and then grinned up at her friends.


“Uh, Ophelia…” Emily said.

“Yes?”

“I was just thinking… your dress…”

“What about it?” Ophelia asked, brushing cat hair from it.

“It doesn’t seem very…”

“Very what, Emily?”

“Goth!”

Cy chuckled softly. “She said the G word, Lia. Do you want me to leave the room, or do you want me to witness the yelling at?”

Ophelia gave Cy a light punch in the arm. “Hush up, Cy. Emily’s one of the few people who I can actually explain it to. She doesn’t know any better.”

“I don’t?” Emily asked, puzzled.

Ophelia sighed. “Sit down, Emily.” Emily plopped herself down on the nearby sofa. Cy sat on the floor and waited to hear the speech she knew was coming.


“Emily, I’m going to explain this to you because you, unlike most of the unwashed cretins at our school, are capable of understanding what I am going to tell you. I am not goth. At our age, goth is for people who dye their hair black and wear that ugly white face paint and smudgy black eyeliner and shop at Hot Topic and cut themselves while listening to whiny singers with no talent. That does not describe me. This is my natural hair color, and I don’t wear that nasty white stuff or enough eyeliner to make me look like a raccoon. Oh, and most of my clothes are either homemade, from thrift stores, or shipped from other places.”

“So why do you let people call you a goth then?” Emily asked.

“It’s easier than explaining all this to people. Besides, the people who label me as such are generally idiots, and if I argue with them, I’m stooping to their level. And let’s face it, I wouldn’t win the argument because they’ve had more experience being idiots,” Ophelia replied.


“I see…”

“Eh, this is getting dull,” Cy commented.

“You’re right,” Ophelia replied. “It’s time for us to go crazy!”

“Go…crazy?” Emily echoed worriedly.