NOVEMBER

Mariah and Mandria hardly talked after that Friday night in October. Mariah said nothing out of jealousy, Mandria said nothing out of… nobody quite knew what. She kept it to herself. But she did put a picture of Mariah as Alice in her locker. Erik thought it was significant. Mariah turned to her best friend for advice, but Clarisse could not have cared less. She was convinced Mandria was withholding secret love for her. Mariah was not that spectacular of a girl, Clarrise often thought and she wanted very badly to be attractive to both sexes. She wanted Mandria to like her even more. Clarrise tried very hard to get Mandria’s affection. Which was precisely why Mandria did not like her especially much, but Clarrise had no idea. Every day when Mandria appeared, Clarisse stopped talking or talked too much. It made Mariah angry. She felt betrayed by her best friend.

That day, in choir, Mandria led the sopranos in warm-ups. They were all gathered in a practice room, Mariah could see them. Mandria told them to drop out when it was too high. She, of course, was the last to finish. Then, again, she asked them to drop out when it got too low. And again, she was the last one singing. Mariah smiled, shaking her head.

“Mariah,” another second-soprano said, “do you want to take the second’s part in the soli on page four? Mandria’s taking the first’s part and I think Jania’s taking first-alto.”

“And tenor?”

“Um… I don’t know yet,” she mused, “probably Josh, because he always gets the solos.”

“True,” Mariah nodded, “sure, I’ll do it. Are we practicing?”

“Grab Mandria once she’s finished insulting the firsts.”

Mariah hurriedly rescued her fellow sopranos from Mandria’s boredom. Mandria commended them on their expansion and walked out with Mariah. They all glared angrily after her. Jania and Josh were waiting in the hallway.

“Shall we?” Josh opened the door.

“Yepp,” Mandria jumped on to the piano bench, “Okay, ladies and gentleman: A, C sharp, D, and hmmmm… got your notes? Okay…”

Mandria kept time with her booted leg and played the parts. Mariah did her best to sight-read which she hated. Mandria went through each of their parts individually, helping them as much as she could.

“No, breathe here at the comma,” she marked in her music. “It makes more sense.”

“I can’t hold my breath that long,” Jania muttered.

“Um… okay,” Mandria thought, “okay, the choir is holding their chord here, so you can take a catch-breath if you want…”

“Awesome,” Jania said sarcastically, “…choir-snob…”

“Tone-deaf…” Mandria said as she played their last chord.

Jania’s eyes got big and she missed the first note by a sharp third. Mariah smiled. After a few minutes of sectionals, the choir resembled and they completed their song. The director, a tall, thin blind man, was very pleased with the results. He called Mandria up to him and she nodded vigorously.

“Yes, we’re ready,” she beckoned the three other parts to her side. Mandria scampered to the piano and played their notes. Mr. Johns, the director, cued the choir and then the soli. Mandria stood close to Mariah, listening to tune herself. That made Mariah a little self-conscious. She was not in choir because she was good, but because she had wanted to be. Mr. Johns gave the cut off and spread his long arms.

“That was it,” he said, “tenors, you’re a bit fast, but other then that, oh! People! Well done! Have a nice day.”

He excused the choir early. Mandria stayed behind to talk to Mr. Johns. Mariah sat down to wait for her. Mandria whipped out a few pages of sheet music, then began playing it on the piano and singing it. Mr. Johns nodded, listening acutely. They sang it on vowels, harmonizing beautifully until Mr. Johns said something to her and Mandria scribbled a note on the corner of the sheet music. He nodded again. Putting away the music, she produced a disc from her bag and asked him to listen to it. He agreed to, smiling her away.

“Oh, you waited,” Mandria was surprised, “hi…”

“That was beautiful,” Mariah said, nodding at the piano.

“Oh… thank you,” she looked down modestly, “it’s something I’m working on for graduation. Mr. Johns asked me to draw something up for the choir. I’m putting a lovely solo in it just for Dan, but don’t tell him. He thinks nobody knows he can sing.”

“Dan sings?” Mariah said.

“Like a canary,” Mandria nodded. “Mr. Jones has apparently been asking him all year. I got Ryan to help record it, tell me what you think.”

Mariah listened to the offered mp3 player. The song was dark and decadent. Notes flowed like melted chocolate… until Mariah felt ridiculous for thinking in poetry again.

“Yeah, that’s going to be amazing. Especially with the cellos.”

“Wait,” Mandria scrolled through the playlist, “this is Dan freshman year in a coffeehouse.”

“Dan plays guitar?”

“Yeah, he does now, but not then; that’s his friend playing,” Mandria smiled, “Erik taught him… he’s really shy though. I wish he weren’t; he’s kind of talented.”

Clarisse met them at the entrance of the cafeteria. She linked arms with Mandria and Mariah and began gushing about nothing. It had something to do with clothes, though neither of them were listening. Mandria attempted active participation. That made Clarissa blush. Mariah had enough and stormed away, to the lounge, of course. It was the only place to go when she was upset. Clarisse did not like Mandria, just the idea of her. Mariah…

‘I am not a lesbian,’ she reminded herself, mostly sure that she had done enough soul-searching to know.

Mandria had followed her. Mariah heard her come in with her zippery boots that jingled when she walked. She whirled on her and demanded what she wanted.

“I didn’t want anything,” Mandria said shyly. “I was just making sure you were… alright.”

“I’m fine,” Mariah snapped.

“Oh,” Mandria was stunned, “okay… I’ll… see you in class…”

She turned to go. Before her face turned completely, Mariah caught sight of tearful eyes behind her dark hair. Touching her muscular shoulder, Mariah recanted.

“Are you alright, though?” she asked.

“No,” Mandria sniffed pathetically.

“Oh, Mandria!” Mariah sat down with her and hugged her.

Without explanation, Mandria began crying. She rested her head against Mariah’s shoulder, shaking a little. Mariah didn’t know what to do. None of her previous friends had ever been so emotional with her. What did one do in such a situation? She decided just to wait it out. And then, surprising her, Mandria started speaking.

“I don’t want you to be angry with me,” she wailed.

“I… I’m not,” Mariah patted her head awkwardly.

“You’re not?” Mandria looked up at her, black tears streaming. “Even after Faye…?”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Mariah assured her.

“Wh—why not?”

Mariah brushed away her dark tears, “I think I’m beginning to understand you, Mandria. So seriously, it’s okay.”

“Really?” Mandria started crying harder. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Mariah hugged her again. “Calm down, everything’s fine.”

“Okay,” Mandria sighed, laughing tearfully, “thanks, honey.”

“Um, you’re welcome…” she replied.

Lifting her teary eyes, Mandria wiped at them ferociously. She apologized for gushing. Mariah told her not to feel bad at all. Mandria laughed and thanked her with a kiss. As much as Mariah was worried about the door not being locked and other people being in the lounge with them, it was a thoroughly enjoyable kiss.

During that third month of school, Mariah saw a Mandria few people but Erik and Ryan had ever seen. Mariah saw Mandria cry twice. She thought it significant, though, little did she know, Mandria cried often. But at school, now that was unusual. Mandria came walking down the stairs one day, tearing a little. That was the point at which Mariah found herself next to her instantly.

“What is it?!” Mariah took her shoulders.

Mandria snuggled into Mariah’s shoulder. She was shaking again.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm… no… I will be.”

“God, what an emotional day for you,” Mariah held her closer.

“I’ve had worse.”

Erik was passing. He stopped to talk right as their lunch bell rang. Since there was no need to run to the cafeteria, Erik petted Mandria’s dark hair, streaked with yellow.

“What is it, little bumble bee?” he murmured.

“There was a picture of Angie in the locker upstairs… it surprised me, that’s all…”

“Oh, honey!” Erik squeezed her tightly. “It’s been months now…”

Mandria sighed and continued talking with Erik. She was not angry with his attitude. He was sympathetic, if a little pushy. Mariah stood by silently, wondering who Angie was, until Mandria took her hand.

“I’m hungry, let’s go.”

That was all. Mandria did not want to talk about it when, later, Mariah asked.

“It’s nothing, darling,” she said mildly, “don’t fret.”

Keeping that in the back of her mind, Mariah waited until study hall to ask Dan what he knew. He could not answer, so he asked Erik. Erik, looking less then pleased, turned fully around and began the story.

“Mandria was born on a farm somewhere and lived with her mother, Maggie, and Sandra. Yes, they were lesbians. Mandria got worked really hard for a child. Her mothers weren’t exactly… kind, either. She finally had enough and ran away. Mandria went out and, after a lengthy search, found her father, Frank. He was, Ryan says, the best friend and most loving father to ever be. He was a roadie for Ryan’s previous band. Mandria’s father was the reason she’s here now. He wanted her to finish school. Unfortunately, he died last year. There was something strange with the way he died though. Anyway, that was a few months before Mandria met Angie. Angie did volunteer work outside of Mandria’s school for a week. During said week, they met and Mandria ran away with her. Ryan was devastated. They had a gorgeous romance, Mandria told us later, until the day when Angie was killed, shot to death. Mandria went back to Ryan in pieces, and he’s still trying to fix her.”

“What was Angie’s real name?” Mariah’s eyes grew with realization.

“Dana,” Erik smiled at her familiarity, “Dana Dominica Angelus Batíst.”

“No way,” Mariah was aghast.

“Yeah, Mandria loved her harshly at times,” Erik smiled, “but Angie was good to her. She was considering giving up her career for her…”

“Yeah, I heard that!” Mariah was shocked. “Dana Batíst? You’re sure?”

“Look it up,” Dan smiled, “you’ll see.”

Mariah got a pass from her study hall teacher to go to the library. She searched Mandria’s past relationship and found hundreds of pictures, though she only looked at a few. Some of them were artistic and posed. Most of them were candid, paparazzi-style. They were very different, Mandria and Dana. Dana was tall and athletic; Mandria was small and extremely feminine. Dana wore bright colours, and Mandria wore black. Mariah sighed at them. They looked happy. She noticed a link on the side of the screen and clicked on it. It led to a website for a band she’d never heard of. She wrote “dead-cold CORPSE” on her notebook. She went back to study hall and sat behind Erik again. She passed him her note. He smiled and scrolled through his mp3 player, looking for a song. Once he found it, Mariah was introduced to dead-cold CORPSE. She recognized Mandria’s voice instantly as they were in choir together. She was classically trained (by Ryan and her father, no doubt), but her range was enormous. Mariah was a bit horrified at the death rock-style in which the song was composed, but the sweetness in Mandria’s voice made it easier to take. Erik put on a music video next. It took place in a hospital. There were four members to the band: Mandria, two men (one was Ryan), and one androgynous person Mariah was half-sure was female. She looked closer and remembered her as Faye. Nearing the end of the video, Mandria smashed a guitar in a rent-a-cop’s face to escape the corrupt hospital. And Ryan, the guitarist, was waiting in a Porsche outside and they peeled off into the night. Mariah smiled.

“I like it,” she said.

“Really?” Erik was moderately surprised.

“Yeah.”

“You like CORPSE?” Dan asked.

“What’s wrong with that?” Mariah asked.

“It’s not… too… dark?”

“No…”

“What did you play?” Dan began scrolling through the playlist.

“‘Comfortable Coffin,’” Erik said, “and ‘You Call This a Cure?’”

“And it didn’t scare you?”

“Not really,” Mariah shrugged, “only the breathing in the background was mildly distressing…”

“What!?” Erik and Dan listened hard. Their faces brightened.

“That’s awesome, you heard it the first time. I never noticed.”

“Yeah,” Mariah said, “but it doesn’t sound female at all.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Dan whispered, “it’s about two men.”

“What?!” Mariah laughed.

“Yeah, it’s true. CORPSE is full of drug-addicted, gender-bending rejects,” Erik said, “and that’s why it works. Oh, I love her…”

“I want to see them,” Mariah stated, “if I could…? Someday?”

“Don’t ask me, talk to Mandria,” Erik turned back to his notes.

Mariah watched his back. The way his shoulders were reminded her of one of the pictures she’d seen. She noticed Erik’s camera bag next to his feet. She wondered if he had been their photographer. But it wasn’t a question worth asking as the answer would probably be yes.

“Mariah!”

She opened her eyes and, seeing it was 1 am, groaned. There were rocks flying at her window. Mariah crossed the room angrily, and threw open the curtains. She lifted the window. Ryan and Clarisse were standing on the lawn.

“Come on!” they beckoned her.

Mandria was asleep in the back seat. She did not wake up when Ryan reclaimed his seat beside her. He carelessly spread his coat over her. The driver waved to Mariah.

“I’m Emmett,” he whispered. “You’ve met Faye.”

“Yes, sort of,” Mariah smiled at the woman in the back seat. She glared back. “I’m Mariah.”

“I know, Mandria talks about you.”

It was a long drive, but a pleasant one. Emmett asked Mariah to read directions to him. She did, with difficulty.

“You’ll have to excuse the writing,” Emmett said, “Mandria wrote it drunk.”

“Well, that explains it,” Mariah nodded.

Ryan smiled at her.

With a finally turn, they went up a hill and parked under a tree. Its leaves were all gone. Ryan gently woke Mandria. She was already awake, staring at the cottage a few yards away.

“Welcome home,” Emmett got out of the car.

“I have not been here since January,” Mandria whispered to herself. “Holy God…”

“I thought it would be appropriate,” Ryan said, “to go back on your birthday.”

“Yes, I guess so,” Mandria nodded.

She pulled on the chain around her neck and held the skeleton key tightly. It was large and ornate. Mandria took Mariah’s hand for comfort as she went to the door. It unlocked easily, but opening it took a bit of the brutality Mariah had heard so much about. With a rusty snap, the oak door swung open. Cobwebs few and dust swirled in the petite entry. Mandria sniffed and stepped inside. She lit the candles the minimalist décor provided. It seemed exactly to her taste. There were black suitcases on the stairs. A small plaque near the handle of each one read ‘D.B.’ Mandria tenderly brushed at the dust. Up the spiral staircase was the bedroom, a bathroom and a little nook for ‘whatever Mandria fancied,’ or so the sign there read. In the bedroom was a white envelope on the black cloth. Mandria hoped to herself that it was a bill of some sort. It was heavy. And it was a letter. As it was opened a ring tumbled out on to the dusty duvet. She read the letter first:

Baby Rio,

Surprise! It’s been decorated. If you don’t like it, we can fix it. But, please, be honest. The designer used the word ‘crypt’ so I’m a little hesitant to love it. You like though, don’t you, tainted angel of mine?

I love you!

Your Angie

The letter had been dated July 15. Mandria picked up the ring. It was made of hematite, Mandria’s favourite stone. It was set with tiny diamonds gradually leading to an opal, cut to resemble a diamond. She slipped it on to her engagement ring finger, the only one it fit on. Mandria sat heavily on the bed, making the dust billow. Mariah knocked lightly on the door. She and Ryan entered. Ryan asked if she was okay, Mandria began laughing and crying.

“Yes, I’m alright,” she nodded, “I just miss her.”

She gave the letter to him. It made him laugh. Mandria jumped on the bed, commenting on the squishiness of it. She was wearing a flimsy grey, silk dress that fluttered when she moved. Emmett asked her about the ring. Mandria did not reply. She examined her hand and then thought of something. She rushed to the bureau and found it full of clothes. Mandria squealed with delight, crying even harder. On top of the bureau was a music box that played Mandria’s favourite song when she opened it. There were dozens of rings inside.

“Angie brought me rings from all over the world,” Mandria said, “and when we got to see eachother, she told me stories about them and where they came from…”

She spotted paper at the bottom of the music box.

“’Did you find it? Or were you too stoned to notice the painfully obvious white envelope on the bed?!’” Mandria read, smiling, “’I had it made for Christmas, but it was too big. So then it was for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t ready in time. So now, it’s a welcome home present; unless we don’t get back here until November. Then it’s for your 19th birthday. Love, Angie,’ Aw, snuggle! That’s so like her too.”

Emmett told her that kitchen was full of packages. Mandria jumped on his back and shouted directions at him. Emmett neighed and attempted a gallop.

“Ryan,” Mariah tapped him, “What’s going on?”

“Do you keep up with celebrities?”

“Sort of, Jania tells me,” she said, “is this about Dana?”

“We called her Angie,” Ryan nodded. “I only got to meet her once, but I liked her. She called Mandria ‘Baby Rio.’ This was to be their house. Yeah, they were planning on getting married…”

“Oh dear God!” Mandria exclaimed from the kitchen. Such a cry was accompanied by whistles and clapping. Ryan and Mariah walked in to face a massive print of Mandria pole dancing in military garb. The real Mandria was laughing, “What an asshole…” Most of the packages were similar in nature. All of the photos were in unfinished wooden frames of all sizes. Some were paintings, but most were photographs, including a print of the Venus de Milo. One of the parcels was marked “LAST.” Mandria hesitantly opened it to fined a print of Angie dressed as a faerie, looking into a pool. There were trees and mosses and vines and flowers surrounding her. Mandria gasped and stood back a little. She sat on the floor against the cabinets, observing it.

“I told her that it was my favourite,” she fanned her face, trying not to cry, “she didn’t know they’d started the shoot yet…”

“Mandria!” someone called from the dining room, “there’s another one.”

“I can’t take much more of this,” she said. Ryan held her hand.

It was labeled “REALLY last” and was moderately sized. Mandria pulled off the brown paper. It was an acrylic painting of two women kissing in a sunset. Their features were the darkest great on the black or their silhouettes. ‘My favourite’ was written in pencil on the back of the canvas.

“Is this…?” Faye gaped.

“Yeah,” Mandria hid in Ryan’s shoulder, “it was a concept thing I did for a class… why did she keep it?”

Mandria walked over to a table, burying her face in her arms. She tensed up all of her muscles and made a high-pitched screech. After a moment she relaxed. She wiped her eyes.

“Okay,” she stated, “I’m good now. Did we find everything?”

Another hour of searching went by. They found hundreds of presents, some big, some tiny. Mandria had run out of tears and could only laugh at each delightful object. Her favourite was a pair of recipe boxes. One said ‘Vegan Approved’ and the other said ‘Everything Else…’ And Erik discovered something fantastic in the garden shed: A box full of individually-wrapped quads of weed. He set it reverently at Mandria’s feet.

“Now that’s a damn good gift.”

“Hell, yes, it is…” Mandria said. “Shut the windows. We’re baking.”

“Right,” Erik saluted, “Dan, go with Faye; and… here’s… your… list… And, you, gather all the chairs… we’ll set up in the living room. Emmett, if you wouldn’t mind, would you help me out?”

“Certainly,” he sat down at the low coffee table. Together they began slitting open the plastic parcels. The edges had been melted shut. A sweet, herbal scent drifted through the air. Erik began rolling a joint. He always took at least ten minutes, but if was worth the wait because they never went out. Emmett crumbled cannabis into a pile for Erik to roll into joints. He inspected it thoroughly for seeds and stems, which he saved in a tiny box in his pocket.

“This is an excellent stash,” Emmett mused.

“Um… yeah, it is!” Ryan smiled broadly. “There’s about two kilos here!”

“More.”

“What?” Ryan turned to him.

“I said, ‘more.’”

“This is not a stash,” Mandria stated, bringing forth a bong at least a meter tall, “it’s a supply.”

“I concur,” Emmett stated happily. His face didn’t change. Ever. But his voice gave away his emotions left and right.

“Kiss me,” Mandria leaned over the drummer.

Emmett kissed her upside down and asked her if she wanted to make brownies. “There’s a bit of hash in the bottom of the box.”

“Oh, Angie…” Mandria smiled, “yeah, let’s make brownies.”

Mandria read off brownie ingredients from a vegan recipe card to Faye over the phone. She then employed Mariah to help her hang pictures all over the house. Mariah went along with it; she had nothing better to do. Once they were finished, it was a very artistic crypt. Mandria said she’d need glass in some of them as she’d be licking them often. The pictures all hung, Mariah stepped outside for a moment of solitude. She was feeling obscenely jealous. She found herself hating Angie and the way she’d loved Mandria. Even the way Mandria loved her post-mortem made her upset.

“This is disgusting,” Mariah ran her fingers through her hair.

Dan and Faye returned with bags, bottles, and an old woman. She was dressed like a gypsy. Like a real gypsy. She walked quickly enough, leaning heavily on Dan’s arm. She looked straight at Mariah and called her over.

“You, there,” she rasped, “Mariah…”

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Mariah felt chills down her spine.

“…come to me, child…”

Obediently Mariah trudged across the gravel driveway toward her. The woman began looking about her head. Mariah stood perfectly still. Dan seemed fine with the situation. That relaxed her a little more.

“You… need not be afraid…” the old lady closed her grey eyes, “your life will not be hard… you will love many people, but your true love…”

“What?” Mariah was impatient.

“…She…”

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Mariah thought again.

“…is not in your life… right now… but she is connected to it,” the grey eyes opened again, “Mariah.”

Her name was Feefi. Angie’s grandmother, a psychic from France. She’d felt energies moving her to go to America, or so she claimed. She thought Angie had something to say. Mandria was happy to see her. Feefi sat her down quickly, staring deeply into her eyes. She placed a single finger on her forehead.

“You have been doing it again.”

“What?” Mandria’s face paled.

“The heroin…”

Ryan stormed out of the room, enraged. Emmett went after him.

“…Angie says to stop,” Feefi continued.

“Is she here?” Mandria whispered.

“Always. She’s is always with you,” she murmured, “when you feel someone watching you in class. When suddenly you are happy. When suddenly you are sad… Angie is there. She gave me a message for you… ‘I am happy so don’t be sad. I loved you, love you, and will still love you until you’re here with me. My lawyer has our baby. He finished the paperwork… so it is all yours now, enjoy it.’ That’s all.”

There was no emotion on Mandria’s face. She sat still with Feefi holding her hands. The old woman wiped flesh-tone makeup from Mandria’s arm and exposed the healing bruises to the smoky air.

“She is worried about you,” Feefi pressed her forehead against Mandria’s. “She does not want you to be foolish anymore.”

“But it hurts so badly,” Mandria said, “I need… something…”

“She knows,” Feefi nodded, “she says… used the pain in your art…”

“Of course,” Mandria smiled, “that’s her solution to everything.”

“It would be wise, my darling,” Feefi kissed her forehead and both cheeks tenderly, “But I must be going.”

“So soon?” Mandria asked.

“It is better to leave you without answers to questions you will soon consider.”

And with that, Feefi was gone. She walked out of the door and down the gravel path on her silver snake-cane. Mandria smiled at nothing in particular. She simply packed the bong and turned it toward Mariah.

“Would you like greens, hun?”

Mariah soon regretted taking them. The entire night and following day became a blur of colours and sounds. Erik commanded her to stay longer when she asked how she was going to get home. He was right. After all, she would not want her parents to see her so… inebriated. Mandria seemed fine. Mariah did not understand how she could be after such a memory-jog. She’d placed a call the previous night to Angie’s lawyer who was not excited to hear from her. Mandria explained how he’d always referred to her as ‘that bitch,’ even in legal matters until Angie corrected him with her fist. The lawyer sent a crate expressly to the house on the hill. It arrived at noon the following day. Mandria knew what was inside and therefore asked Faye to open it. She jumped away screaming ‘bitch’ at Mandria. Mandria just laughed and whistled at the crate. Out crawled a pug puppy. She whimpered over to where Mandria knelt.

“Sh, it’s okay, Pussy-Cat,” she picked her up and hugged her, “Mandria’s going to love you forever.”

The little dog barked. She sounded like a cat and her name made more sense. Mariah went over to pet the hyper little thing in Mandria’s arms.

“Would you like to go on a walk, sweetie?”

The dog stared blankly at her.

“Oh, you’re so stupid!” Mandria nuzzled her wrinkly head.

The new addition to Mandria’s family of friends was a welcome one. Pussy-Cat was in a word: Mandria. She liked the smell of weed and drank bong-water if it was left unattended. Erik and Dan were horrified. So were others, but the boyfriends were the only ones that said anything.

“Isn’t that poisonous?”

“No,” Mandria stroked her puppy.

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Not too badly…”

“Mandria!” they chided her.

“What?” she laughed. “We took her to the vet the first time it happened. The vet laughed and said to keep a closer eye on her.”

“If it happens again,” Erik growled, “I will fuck your face up.”

“Okay, fine,” Mandria nodded.

Erik glared at her harmlessly and took Pussy-Cat for a walk. Dan returned his gaze to Mandria after Erik had gone. She nodded slowly.

“You think it’s hilarious, don’t you?” she accused him.

“Psh, yeah!” he smiled. “But Erik’s kind of sensitive, so yeah…”

“I know,” Mandria said, “I’ll be more careful.”

About a week after Mandria’s birthday, Mariah was still feeling guilty. She did not want to be a member of the Let’s Get High Club. And part of her still refused to admit she had liked it. Such things filled her mind daily, but her grades did not suffer as prior rumors and pamphlets had reiterated. She was still 4.5, headed towards Ivy League. Mandria endlessly offered to take her out, but Mariah often refused the invitations. She claimed to need to study, though she knew the information very well already. Mandria was insatiable. Mariah knew she would have to surrender someday. She knew the day had come when the invitation was too beautiful to resist. The paper was ivory and jagged around the edges. Written on the pale paper in frail, black calligraphy were only a few words:

dead-cold CORPSE

052 South Avenue

9 o’clock this Friday

The rose at the bottom of the invitation had been painted in acrylic. Mariah smiled, closing her locker.

“Mandria…” she said.

She stepped into class to find a rose of the reddest sort lying on her desk. Her classmates were whispering. It was the most obvious ‘please?’ she had ever encountered. Of course, Mariah had already (against her better judgment) decided to go. The rose only succeeded in making her extremely nervous. This budding fear led her to consult Clarrise at lunch. Before Clarrise read the invitation, the tell-tale paper made her shriek with delight.

“You got invited to the CORPSE concert!” she hissed excitedly. “You have to take me with you.”

“But…” Mariah tried to reclaim her treasure and found that rather impossible. Soon Janet and Jania were also begging to go. Erik smiled privately at Dan who understood, nodding. Mariah looked bewildered. Dan knew why, so did Erik. Their collective intuition made it obvious that she wanted their help. Even if she did not yet know it herself.

“Mariah,” Dan said, “do you want to go shopp--?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Okay,” he smiled. Erik pulled out his monthly copy of some counter-culture magazine, “Have a look and we’ll meet you after sixth period, ’kay?”

“Okay…” she tentatively opened the magazine. It was full of damaging visuals that left her head spinning. It was delightful, actually. Mariah smirked during lunch, learning more then school could teach. The fashion was darker then she was accustomed to, but even so, it was intriguing. It looked like… what Jania wore. She tried to formulate a theory for perusing this new… scene. All she could come up with was “wear more black.” No doubt Erik would be able to guide her better. He’d taken Dan from a preppy jock to a well-dressed… whatever he was in a few months. Turning him had been difficult, but Dan was becoming nearly as indie as his boyfriend. And the boys certainly could dress. Slowly, Mariah was realizing just how much of a god Erik was.

“What?” Mariah noticed Erik staring.

“Can I dye your hair?” he swiveled around in his chair.

“What!”

“I think darker, Dan says lighter, with blue in it…” Erik smiled and spun the swizzly chair again.

“Uh…” a picture caught her eye. “Erik, can you do my hair like that?”

“Oh, Mariah!” he said, “I could cry. Thank you for being awesome.”

The next period, clothing, Mariah flipping through the magazine time and time again absorbing everything. She looked up. Josh, from choir, was watching her. He nodded at the magazine open on her lap. She blushing, turning the page.

The final bell of the day was a welcome sound. Mariah was first to exit and found Erik standing outside of her classroom. Mariah was glad they had early dismissal. There were few perks to being a senior, but that one was best. He took her gently by the hand and they went running through the hallway. Along the way, Mariah snatched Julia, who took Jania’s hand too. Mandria blew them all kisses as they wound past. She looked deeply into Mariah’s eyes, her own were burning with excitement. Mariah nearly toppled over.

“Erik,” she said as they jumped into her car, “you can definitely dye my hair.”

“Sweet.”

Unfortunately, the mall was the same as it had ever been. Erik said he’d only go with Mariah to ‘the mall’ if they went on his terms. She reluctantly agreed. Erik was full of surprises so his terms were a constant worry. Erik led the girls past their familiar stores into the unknown and ferociously wild part of the building they never, ever went to. They’d been warned not to go in there. Not that they would have, anyway, it was dark. People nodded to Erik as he passed by, with girls fairly dripping off of his arms. Everyone seemed to know him. Mariah smiled, feeling kind of proud to be seen with someone so… famous.

“Infamous,” he corrected her with his Erik-smirk.

A familiar man with electric blue-spiked hair marched right up to Erik. Erik let go of his decadence-challenged friends just in time to be dipped into a lengthy kiss. He released Erik with extreme casualness. They parted ways with a simple “Erik” and “Alyx.” Jania spotted Dan approaching with Clarrise. Dan kissed Erik, of course, not with so much revenge as with ‘I’m better and I’ll prove it.’ Erik melted, letting his arms fall from Dan’s chest. His boyfriend’s arms flexed to support him… Mariah felt odd for admitting that it was completely adorable. Then wondered why it was that she felt unclean. ‘I’ve kissed a girl,’ she reminded herself. ‘It’s nothing to be asha-- wait. I am ashamed of that.’ Mariah decided she’d devote more time to that philosophy later.

“…God damn…” Erik played with his hair.

“Like he’s that good,” Jania muttered.

“Oh, he is…” Erik said euphorically.

Dan nodded vigorously. He’d known since middle school that he was a good kisser. It was a lovely gift to hide. Once Erik was lucid again and wrapped in Dan’s massive arm, they continued into the darkness that was the edge of the teenage-frontier. Lots of the clothing, well, mostly all of the clothing had some black in it. Mariah let Erik dress her, starting with her skin. He made tribal henna patterns on her hand. She sat in the lounge in the back of one of the stores. With a girl. A bubbly, pink and black, voluptuous girl. She was sixteen and weighed at least two-hundred pounds. As Mariah sat, waiting for the henna paste to finish up, Sally-Chan, her new pink friend, dyed her hair, cut her hair, applied her makeup, and talked to her. Mariah found her amusingly sweet.

“Lots of people,” she gushed, “always think that I’m shy and self-conscious because of my weight… but they’re wrong. I like the way I look. I’ve got a killer rack and I like my legs a lot. What else matters but that you like yourself the way you are?”

“Do other people understand your point of view?” Mariah said under a mascara wand.

“Oh, sure, definitely,” Sally smiled, “Guess how many boyfriends I have.”

“Three?”

“Nope. Fifteen,” Sally smiled.

“What?” Mariah opened one eye at her.

“Yeah, they’re deep enough to appreciate the gorgeous me,” she sighed, “so I reward them.”

“…okay,” Mariah closed her eye again.

Erik returned with clothes. Her told Mariah it was alright to wash her hand off. She did, finding the burnished patterns underneath the green paste. The brown lines crossed her hand like lace. Erik undressed her completely. Completely. Mariah did not mind too much, until he tried to dress her like a doll. Then she protested. Sally-Chan laughed. When she did her bright pink pigtails and razorblade earrings shook. Mariah thought more about what Sally-Chan had said. She was not sure she agreed with it, but she liked the fact that she had a positive outlook on life and love. So did others that she’d recently met, as Mariah pondered further. They’d thought about their lives, loves, happinesses, and come up with philosophies for only themselves. Mariah saw how each was unique to its creator in ways no-one else could understand. She decided to begin her own philosophy.

“Finished,” Erik turned her around to the mirror.

Mariah looked into the glass at the new person before her. She liked the deep, sapphire blue of the brocade corset Erik had chosen for her. He paired it with a black skirt. He placed her in knee-high black vinyl boot even though Mariah protested. Mariah finally consented after much nagging and did feel fabulous. She had never worn vinyl before. They rejoined Dan, Clarrise and the twins to get food before the concert. On their way to the city, Erik drove with Mariah and Clarrise. They went through the forest preserve, not because it was the fastest, but because they could travel the fastest through it. Erik requested Mariah to drive alongside Jania. There was no oncoming traffic and it was a long road, so she did. The fields whipped by them. Erik leaned out the back window and knocked on the next car. Dan gave him a strange look, but he put out his cigarette and went out to join him. They held on to eachother for balance and shared a sweet, four-second kiss before sliding back inside. They drove through a fastfood restaurant because they were running short on time. Erik read off directions to Mariah. She turned down the most terrifying street she ever seen and locked the doors. The streetlights were just starting to flicker on in the moody twilight. Erik paused the directions to take a picture of a fire escape. Once they arrived at the warehouse, Erik took them up a crumbling staircase and through dilapidated hallways. Light shone in at uneven angles, often blinking out at inopportune moments. But Erik knew where he was going. He led them down a staircase made of grates to an illuminated doorway. There was a black drape across it, but pale un-yellow light came from around it. From the shadows of the landing, a man appeared and picked Erik up. He struggled a little until a deep, happy voice accompanied the hug.

“It’s little Erik!” the dark shape rocked him back and forth.

“Hi, Kye,” Erik breathed.

“Mmm… I have missed you!” Kye set Erik back on the landing. Dan snatched his hand and pulled him closer.

“How are you, Kye?” Erik fixed his hair.

“I’ve never been better,” he had a South African accent, “but let us not keep Isis waiting.”

“Right, ‘Isis,’” Erik smiled at Mariah.

Kye drew back the curtain and they each ducked inside. The room beyond the black velvet was high and long. It was lit with chandeliers. In the center of the room was a sunken lounge. Mandria was sitting with Ryan. She jumped up when she saw Mariah and the others walking in. Mandria skipped over, the air around her electrified. She sweetly kissed Mariah's cheeks.

"I am glad you came," she smiled, "come, sit with us."

She swayed seductively back into the lounge. The guitarist passed his cigarette to her. After a long drag, Mandria began playing with his hair. She straightened it and carefully spiked it. Ryan picked up an acoustic guitar. Mariah watched his long, tough fingers picking at the strings. Another man walked in. Clarrise gasped and ran to him. She grasped him around his waist. Between her shrieks and swears of eternal love, the man tried to ask her name. Mandria smiled, French inhaling, and informally introduced Mariah.

“You have met the band, yes?” she pointed, “the one being mounted, Emmett, Faye is over there, and this is my fabulous, sensuous Ryan. And, of course, you already know Erik.”

“Erik is in your band?” Julia was surprised.

“No, he manages us, promotes us, books us, and,” Mandria stroked his arm, “updates our websites. Practically family.”

Erik hid modestly behind Dan who laughed. His powerful body wrapped around the diminutive emo boy. Even though Erik was nearly a head taller, shrinking into Dan was not difficult. Erik played sweetly with his hair, completely awkward. Taking compliments was not something he knew how to do.

“What the hell, Erik!” Julia screeched. “Way to inform the masses.”

“That was the point,” he countered.

Mariah turned her attention back to the woman undressing beside her. While Mariah’s corset was for fashion, Mandria’s served a purpose. It was burgundy velvet, matching her modest, tight underwear. Emmett handed her a plasticy dress on a hanger. Mandria slipped her arms inside and braced herself for the zipping of the black second skin. Ryan tooled her inside, fingering her all the way up. After that came a little, crinolined black skirt. Mariah thought she looked rather ravishing and told her so.

“Oh, thank you,” she preened ineffectively.

Mariah took her face in her hands, pulling Mandria to her body’s hungriest part. Their lips rested on eachother’s for only an instant.

“Excuse me.”

Faye was standing over them looking angry. She snatched Mandria’s hand and led her away. Mandria looked irritated and looked back at Mariah apologetically. Mariah could still see them where they stood somewhat behind a curtain. Faie was talking harshly at the other girl. She seemed to be yelling in Swedish… or Dutch… some language that suited her height and pale skin. Mandria’s tone was quiet, rational. She turned her cheek to Faye’s mouth only further offending her. She tried to leave, but Mandria followed her.

“We’ve been over this before,” she said. “Why don’t you understand?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Erik said from the floor where he was intently preparing his second or third escape. The razor made little tapping noises against the glass table. “Faie has a problem with Mandria’s relationships… Mandria will fuck anything biologically human. And Faye is hardcore monogamous. They are not right for eachother. She likes you though…”

“Faye or Mandria?”

“Mandria.”

Dan had finished playing with his hair in the oversized mirrors of differing magnification. There wasn’t much hair to play with, but it was necessary. He looked back to where he had left Erik. The little pile of cocaine flattened as the razor chopped back and forth through it. In two strides Dan was back at his side shaking him.

“Erik… Erik!” he shook harder.

His focus broke. The bedazzled addict languidly peered up at Dan.

“Wow,” Dan took the razor from him and looked at his eyes. “What else are you on?”

“Nothing, man,” he grinned, “I’m off everything.”

“Oh, hell, no…”

“It feels good… it just feels so right,” Erik’s hands pushed the cocaine into a line. Not a tidy line, but a relatively straight one. He insufflated it twice. “This is right, I know it’s right. You know? I’ve just felt like… I’m a… uh… numb… oh, fuck—”

“Awesome,” Dan sounded troubled. “Mariah, promise me you won’t ever do this?”

“Yes, I promise,” she watched tremors starting in Erik’s legs.

He smiled back at her and was about to say something…

“Dan?” Erik whispered.

“What is it?” he replied.

He crawled dizzily over to Dan. “You’re pretty as fuck…” he whispered into his ear. Erik smiled a cock-eyed smirk. Dan shook his head at Erik but hugged him anyway. What else could he do? Dan set the razor he had confiscated on the table. Erik peered over at it then seemed to recall suddenly what he had just done. He began apologizing and crying and trying to get away from himself. He settled for a fetal position on the floor. Shaking, Erik curled up and hid from Dan’s sympathetic sight. He could not resist.

“No, I’m not mad,” he sighed. “Why the hell are you so cute?”

He peeked out from his ball innocently. Dan picked him up easily and held him on the couch. Erik meekly put his head in his lap. Dan lit cigarettes simultaneously and passed one to Erik. Dan exhaled thoughtfully. Mariah asked if Erik would be alright.

“Probably,” he mused, “Erik, how much did you take?”

“All of it.”

“How much was there?”

“…all of it…”

“Who did you did it from?”

“…Ryan…”

“One second,” Dan said to Mariah, slipping his cigarette into her fingers. He returned with Ryan moments later to find Erik making out with Emmett, who looked frightened. Mariah giggled. Dan pried his boyfriend off the drummer.

“Come on, let’s go,” he and Ryan took him away.

“Where…?”

“You’re going back to rehab,” Ryan stated.

“Wha-what…? Dan? No!” he squirmed out of their grasp, “No, please, no! I’ll be good. I swear, I’ll be good. Dan… please? Please? Don’t make me go!”

Ryan looked at him like a pestilent child. Dan was kinder.

“Okay. Where are your meds?” he said.

Erik drew a pill bottle from somewhere. He set it on his boyfriend’s palm. His hands were shaking appallingly. Dan gave it to Ryan who inspected its contents. He nodded.

“Take them,” Dan looked tired of fighting, the battle nearly over.

“…no.”

“Excuse me?”

“No… I don’t feel…” Erik’s head snapped back, “… f-…”

“Oh…” Dan dragged the limp, unconscious body up. “That’s new.”

“He may be overdosing, Daniel,” Ryan said on seeing Erik’s face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dan said to himself, “I… don’t… want… to do this!”

“Right,” Ryan hit him on the back, “just go to the ER. He’ll be fine. No worries. We might want to think about sending him to rehab though…”

“When was he in rehab…?”

“Right after he met you,” Ryan smoked with him towards the exit. “The last day at Maple, remember? Yeah, that was his last day of freedom. His parents gave him a day to do whatever, then they shipped him off. Two weeks later, Erik conned his way out and was clean for a few months. Obviously, that’s in the past.”

“But that day was not… it consisted of me going to school and getting coffee after,” Dan said, hoisting Erik again.

“He’d said he just wanted time with you.”

A trip to the ER was familiar but frightening nonetheless. Mandria watched them go and made a silent “wow.” Mariah was horrified at what had just gone down. She wanted to go with Dan, but that would not help matters much. Mandria squeezed her friend to her bountiful chest and assured her that Erik had been through worse. Faye gave her a long dark cloak, distributing the others soon after. They each slipped it on and went below the stage. They all appeared reclining in different chairs as a platform lifted them to stage level. The lights made patterns of blue and green in the billowing fog. They were each holding a long black candle. They set the candles in holders resting on the stage. Once the candles were secured, they lifted into the air above the stage. A screen behind them began playing one of their songs. At the first chord, the four of them stood up and threw off the black robes. It didn’t matter, they were wearing black anyway. They ran around doing their sound-checks and mic checks and tuning their seven million instruments. Mandria started vocalizing at one end of the stage, Ryan was at the other. They sang opposite directions down and up the scales. Faye tuned her guitars, electric and acoustic. Emmett tuned the sitar in addition to making sure his drums were set up the way he desired. The video kept rolling on the screen above the glorious cacophony. The song it was accompanied by was hard and dark. Mariah liked it immediately. The lyrics were poetic, but also just like a stream of consciousness. Mariah decided she liked CORPSE already.

Mandria swung a guitar around her torso, waiting for Ryan to be ready. She lit a cigarette and waited more. Ryan stared at her, shaking his head.

“I’ve finished, Mandria,” he covered his mic.

“Awesome, let’s party,” she winked. “Faye, Emmett, we good?”

They pointed their thumbs up.

“Okay,” Mandria turned back to the wild, excited audience, “so, how goes it?”

They didn’t wait for an answer. Mandria raised the neck of her guitar, lowering it forcefully as she began to play. Sound burst through the hall like a typhoon. The audience screamed hysterically. Lights spun everywhere, in yellows and pinks and oranges. The sound was like nothing Mandria had every heard before. It was like rock… but bitter-sweetly flowing. It was like… a waterfall of red wine. And Mandria’s voice… purely angelic. Mariah sat down and watched. Her senses were aflame. She watched Mandria’s face for the most part. It was tranquil, contemplative. Sometimes it crinkled with angst, as if the topic she sang was difficult for her. Which it very well may have been. Mariah knew very little about Mandria’s life, but she could hear bit and pieces of it in the songs CORPSE played. Mariah’s favourite part of the concert was when Mandria slipped on a harness and sailed over the crowd, still playing her black guitar. Adoring fans reached up to her as she flew past.

After an hour and twenty minutes of ceaseless beauty, dead-cold CORPSE exited their third encore. Mandria was laughing. She spotted Mariah and skipped over to her.

“Did you like?” she panted.

“Loved is more accurate.”

“Oh, good!” Mandria started to hug her. “You know what? I am covered in concert…”

“Rain-check hug?”

“Rain-check hug, yes!” Mandria was delighted. “But we should go… limo’s waiting!”

Mariah had never been in a limo before. Naturally, her ears perked up.

“Did you say…?”

“Yes, welcome to high class,” Mandria sighed, “I hate this, but hey, got to keep up appearances.”

“…are you… serious?” Mariah was confused.

She winked, “Come on, after-parties are my favourite...”

“Pass that back, I need a hit,” Ryan slurred at Emmett. Emmett pulled a joint out from behind his ear. He set it between Ryan’s lips and lit it. Ryan inhaled deeply, blowing rings of cannabis smoke at the ceiling. The room was rapidly clam-baking. Mandria slipped into the room. She knelt at the table to twirl the sticks of incense.

“Damn…” Emmett paused.

“What?” Mandria looked up.

“Nothing… you just look extraordinary,” he smiled.

She looked like an urban angel, fresh from the street. Her makeup was faded, she wore a long, satin gown.

“Thank you…” she smiled, taking up a bowl and a lighter.

Dan and Erik walked in then. Dan had his arm around Erik. He was paler then normal. Dan was gentle with him.

“How are you feeling?” Mandria took a hit.

“Good,” Erik sat down beside Mandria. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” Erik shook his head, “I already promised Daniel.”

“He did,” Dan nodded, lighting a cigarette.

“Okay,” Mandria coughed slightly, “wow. Um, there’s an empty room for you two down the hall, if you want it.”

She gave them a key with a number dangling from it. Dan took it from her slowly. He looked over at Erik who was declining the offered bowl. Dan was glad he did. Instead, Erik reached out and Dan pulled him to his feet. They walked off together, not very subtly. Dan unlocked the door to the large room. It was very European and modern, the floor was granite. The walls were white with bright paintings. All of the light fixtures were round.

“Kiss me.”

“Kiss you?” Dan smiled, lowering his boyfriend on to the bed.

“Yes,” he said. “Or don’t you love me anymore?”

“I do love you,” Dan lay under Erik.

Erik’s thin, supple hand slid up Dan’s side, under his shirt, as his tongue passed Dan’s parted lips. A great deal of licking and biting always proceeded their actual kissing. Dan’s hair stood on end, Erik’s teeth locked on his neck. His hand plunged into Erik’s long, dark hair, playing with it. Erik dug his short, yet effective nails into Dan’s back. Dan’s personality and appearance often made him look hardened and mean, when in truth he was possibly more effeminate then his boyfriend. Erik laughed in shock as Dan flipped him on to his back and nuzzled into his neck.

Mariah, sitting in the next room, could hear them. She giggled into her martini. Jania had fallen asleep in her lap. Clarisse had run into a bedroom with a very naked Ryan. Mandria’s delicate fingers were gingerly untying Mariah’s corset. Breath rushed back into her body as the brocade fell away from her skin. Mandria held Jania’s head so Mariah could escape. They, together, walked across the hall. Faye watched them from the balcony where she was baking. Mariah went with Mandria into her room. Mandria slid quickly out of Ryan’s shirt. She held Mariah’s arms against the door to kiss her. Mandria was not using much force, but Mariah struggled anyhow. She felt logical and ashamed all of the sudden, and turned her head.

“Mandria,” she said.

“What is it, honey?”

“I’m… a virgin,” Mariah’s face vibrantly flushed, “I’m pretty sure I’m more virginal then you ever were. And…”

“Oh, is that what’s bothering you?” Mandria sat her down in a chair and knelt in front of her. “Don’t think you have to make love to me just to stay close to me…”

“No!” Mariah ejaculated, “That’s not… well? Um, yes… thank you for saying that… it’s reassuring.”

“You’re welcome.”

“…but I’m more nervous about…”

“I don’t have any STDs…”

“Oh, dear God!” Mariah laughed nervously, “I was going to say that I’m afraid I’ll be bad at… it.”

Mandria nodded, understanding. She had been through that as well. “Lovey, sex is not a sport. You are not required to win every game, orgasm every time, or blow someone’s mind every time. Like kissing and hugging, sex is just an expression of love. I fuck Ryan because I love him. People use sex for revenge and to wound, but that’s only because… this world is fallen. Only have sex with me if you want to,” she smiled, “if you love me. That’s the only type of sex I accept.”

“Mandria, I do…” Mariah was shushed.

“You don’t need to tell me, baby, I know,” Mandria stood up.

She ate a chocolate-covered strawberry from the dish next to Mariah.

“I am going to take a shower,” she informed her. “Make yourself at home.”

The water ran for about ten minutes, during which it smelled like honey and chamomile. Mandria had left the door open in an inviting fashion. Mariah realized at that moment how she must appear. Mandria was uninhibited and Mariah was so shy, and naïve. She was not pretending to like Mandria, she actually did. Quite a lot. Girls were much more allotting then men. A man, Mariah believed, would have made her feel guilty for not closing the deal. Mandria was kind. She’d left the door open, literally, after all. Mariah decided to ask the Bohemian Goddess if she was angry anyhow.

“Mandria?”

“…and when my song begins…” she continued singing Phantom of the Opera, “I always find…”

“Mandria?”

“…inside my—yes, Mariah?”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Why? What did you do?”

“…um, about before…”

“Oh! That?” she finished her shower, “No, not at all!”

Mariah watched her drying her curvy body with a black towel. Mariah did not feel as uncomfortable around nudity as she once did. In fact, watch was beginning to grow accustomed to seeing people unclothe around her in non-sexual ways. There was nothing to be ashamed of in this reality, and Mandria was an example of that. She was, indeed, human. There were deep, numerous scars on her wrists and ankles, some darker then others. Even some more recent then others. Her beautiful body was littered with scars of differing shapes and sizes. Some were professional, as from surgery; some had been made herself. Mandria had several tattoos but none that pretended to cover her scars. She was like… a fighter of some sort. One who had healed and had aged well. She displayed her bravery proudly… well, maybe not proudly, but she was not ashamed. Mandria caught her watching.

“Surprise!” she said, “I have flaws.”

“Um, sorry…”

“No worries,” she shrugged. “But you, Mariah… are positively divine.”

Mariah fingered a long, jagged line on her friend’s back. She found herself saying, “I kind of like them.”

“I’m a collection short stories.”

There was a very faint one on the side of her lip when she smiled. Mariah looked down. Mandria slid into her nightgown again and sat on the couch. She had Chinese food out from about an hour ago. She half-heartedly picked up the bits of tofu. Mariah came and sat with her.

“What is it?”

“I think you’re upset,” Mariah said.

“No,” Mandria shrugged, “it’s just different. I’m highly physical, the people around me are as well. But you’re not there yet… that has not happened since… Dana…”

Mandria stabbed another piece of tofu maliciously with a chopstick.

“She made me abstain for a while to prove that it was deeper then that,” Mandria pointed at Mariah with the utensil. “I was able to, but it was very hard. You’re very much like her, you know. It’s a little frightening sometimes. Are you going to do that as well? You want me to wait?”

Mariah sat at her feet, looking up into her eyes. They were green that day. For the first of many times, Mariah looked at her for who she was. Mandria’s story was the chief shaping-factor. She was a child. She had many childlike qualities, and she seemed okay with that. All she wanted was to be loved by someone she loved back. Mariah saw pain in her eyes. It wasn’t a crippling pain, because most of the time, Mandria was ignoring it. She was scared to be alone. She was… just scared. She had strength, but that strength could not make her move on. Mariah saw love there too. Mandria loved her, she was certain.

“Mandria,” Mariah said gently, “I love you.”

She bent down and kissed the top of her thigh.

“…thank you,” Mandria smiled, petting her friend’s long hair.

They were lying in the dark in silence. Erik wasn’t sleeping. Dan was weary, but not asleep either. Erik turned over and faced him.

“Dan?”

“…hmm…?

“…I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Will… you forgive me?” Erik felt like crying.

“I already forgave you,” Dan yawned, throwing an arm around Erik.

“Alright,” Erik leaned against boyfriend’s chest. After a minute, “I need to tell you something…”

Dan didn’t say anything. He usually didn’t when those words emerged. But his silence said, “Tell me.”

“Um… sorry, I…” Erik played with his hair. “In, uh… in middle school… I—”

He stopped trying. Dan didn’t say anything. He had somewhat fallen asleep. Waiting for anything, Erik tried to become invisible. Dan’s breathing finalized his choice of wording.

“Yeah,” Erik said softly, “I’m not ready.”

“Hm? That’s okay,” Dan kissed the top of his head.

“Dan?”

“What is it, Erik?” he sighed.

“Kiss me?”

Dan kissed him. Erik curled closer to him and fell asleep. He would have to tell him soon, but not yet. It was not the right moment… well, it never would be the right moment. But Erik was still hoping he was wrong.

If there was anything Emmett loved, it was a decent rave. He loved everything about them. The smells. The lights. The costumes. The glowsticking. The subwoofer. The heat… he just liked raves. And to commemorate the 100th rave, Emmett asked Mandria to find him a local place. She loved a challenge and before long found a zombie rave. Emmett accepted with great anticipation, which for him meant a tiny smile.

“There’s a rave tomorrow,” Mandria sat at the lunch table. “It’s a zombie rave so dressing up is important. It’s Emmett’s 100th rave, and it needs to be special.”

Mariah nodded, agreeing to go. She did not especially know what a rave was… but she was open to trying it. Because Mandria had asked her too. It sickened her a little when she admitted that, but then she didn’t care anymore.

“…I’ll only go if you’re going,” Mandria held Mariah’s hand.

She nodded vigorously.

“Good,” Mandria smiled, “then come to my house at nine tomorrow night, dressed up and ready to party.”

“Will you help me dress?” Mariah asked with feigned coyness.

“Of course I will, sweetie!” Mandria smiled and danced off to her next class.

Mandria smeared white stage makeup across Mariah's face. She made her look dead. Really dead. Mariah felt ridiculous. Zombies? Why would anyone dress like a zombie? They looked…obscene.

"You're a pretty zombie," Mandria said.

"Would you ever want to be a zombie, Mandria?" Mariah smiled.

"No," she shook her glorious head. "Dead girls don't paint."

“Adorable,” Mariah rolled her eyes.

They met up with their zombie friends and drove to the forest preserve. Mandria told them that it was perfectly legal, producing the invitation. That was all it took for the excitement to mount. Mariah and Mandria held hands as they made their way through the woods. Cops were stationed along the path, checking invitations. Once they arrived at the designated coordinates, Emmett said to stop. He looked around and saw the cave.

“A cave? A rave inside a cave?” he looked over at Mandria.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “Rave in a cave.”

Mariah had not attended such an event before. There were zombies dancing everywhere. Even the DJ was decked out. The scent of artificial fog and humans wafted through the air. Emmett observed for an instant and then moon-walked away. He produced two huge green glowsticks and cleared a ten foot radius for himself.

“And there he goes,” Mandria smiled. “Come on, Mariah!”

Lights were twirling all over the high ceiling. They moved and changed and swirled in time with the music. Mariah did not enjoy dancing usually, but the atmosphere was more relaxing in the cave. She danced with countless people to hundreds of songs. Mandria dodged in and out, making sure she was okay. Near four am, Mariah decided she really wanted a cigarette. She stepped outside with Mandria. Mandria produced a pack of her long, black cigarettes.

“So do you want to stay longer?”

“Oh, it’s over in about half an hour,” Mandria informed her. “Better hurry up and get those phone numbers.”

“You’re funny,” Mariah glared.

“Sorry. You’re staying over right?”

“Sure… why not?”

Mariah woke up with Mandria’s body curled on top of her’s. She smiled and looked at the clock. It claimed that three-thirty was the time. Mariah closed her eyes and went back to sleep. When she woke up again, Mandria was not there but steam was pouring out of the bathroom where someone was singing Evita in the shower.

“Mandria?” Mariah tried to say, her voice did not want to work.

The shower turned off and Mandria danced into the bedroom. She waved to Mariah, still singing some Latin song. She pulled on a floaty white dress and hopped on to the bed. She was still singing. Her shoulders moved in time with the music in her head. Mariah could barely hear her.

“Mandria?”

“What?” Mandria hollered, smiling.

“What?”

“What?”

“What?”

Mariah concluded neither of them could hear currently. She wrote down “Good afternoon! !” Mandria brushed an imaginary tear and wrote “Hungry?” Mariah nodded. They went downstairs, threw on coats and gloves and hats, and walked into the small uptown area to a café. She asked for the back room.

“This place is non-smoking until six,” Mandria wrote down.

They sat in the well-decorated back room, smoking. After an hour or so, their hearing began to return. Mandria ordered crepes for both of them and twin lattes. As soon as the waiter left, Erik and Dan came in.

“Yay! Boys!” Mandria sprang up to hug them.

“Good mo—afternoon, ladies.”

They all had breakfast even though it was nearly four. After breakfast, Mandria and Mariah decided to go for a walk.

“Okay, see you later,” Erik reached for the bill.

“No, I’ll get it,” Mandria said. “I want to.”

“Fine,” Erik surrendered.

Mandria paid the bill at the register and then went strolling off through the autumny leaves with Mariah. The splashed through the patchwork trees on its way to the ground. Mandria kicked at the leaves, walking close to the river. She was holding Mariah’s hand.