My body trembled at the question.
"Do you like me?" He asks curiously.
I stood there, frozen stiff. As much as I wanted to say something, anything. Nothing would exit my mouth.
What kind of question was that? Why did he want to know so badly?
But then, something pushed all of my additional thoughts aside.
Do I like him?
Instead of giving a direct answer, I shake my head slowly. "Y-Yes?" I say, a sweat drop rolling down my face. "We're friends right?"
Pete releases his grip from my shoulders. "Friends?"
"Well, yeah." I respond. "Are goths allowed to make friends?"
He shrugs. "I guess."
We continued walking, remaining silent. Pete didn't seem to happy, for some reason. I didn't want to question it, but hopefully it wasn't because I asked him to be friends. Maybe it was kind of conformist of me.
We walked until I could see my house in the distance.
I walk up the steps of my porch. "Um- See you next week." I say, not bothering to look back at him.
I didn't hear Pete respond.
-
As I enter my house, I realize that nobody was home except for me. Once more, my dad was nowhere to be found.
Stepping into my room, I let out a large sigh. What was I supposed to do for the next 2 days?
Pete was acting really strange today, but I hope that he'll feel a lot better when we perform at the talent show.
All I can do now, is hope.
-
2 days pass, and I have been doing nothing other than staring at my wall and dissociating. I didn't even realize it was Monday morning, until the school alarm on my phone rang.
"Shit." I mutter, stumbling out of bed, knowing damn well that I didn't obtain any sleep.
Today was the day of the talent show.
I made sure to wear something extremely Gothic. I scrapped a tight lace top with holes layered over a black tank top, dark jeans, platform shoes, and a pair of fishnet gloves. I even made sure to apply eyeliner.
I looked in the mirror, scanning my outfit. It seemed appealing enough.
I layer on a light leather black jacket and carry my backpack before I left my residence.
Walking to the bus stop, I notice the 4 boys that don't acknowledge my existence. They seemed to not be discussing anything.
Suddenly, without warning, the chubby boy turns around to face me. "Oh my God, guys, look, it's one of those goth creeps." He rolls his eyes, snickering to himself.
The remainder of the boys just stare at me, without any expression written on their faces.
"Dude, chill." Says the boy with the blue hat.
"Yeah Cartman, just leave them alone." Comments the boy with the green hat.
The boy with the orange parka had probably stated something too, but it wasn't audible enough to hear. All I heard was quiet muffles.
I remain silent, lowering my gaze to the ground. I was pretty surprised that 3/4 of these boys had at least some form of common sense.
The so-called 'Cartman' sighs, placing a hand on the boy with the blue hat's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Stan!" He exclaims, with an obvious sarcastic tone. "I'm sorry for offending your culture, please, I'll never do it again! Take off your pants so I can lick your balls, Stan!" He begs.
'Stan' scowls at him, swatting Cartman's hand off his shoulder. "O-Okay shut up, that was a one-time thing." He backs up, attempting to stray father away from his sight. "Look man, I'm not goth anymore."
"Sure." Cartman retorts.
That boy was apart of the goths? But he seemed so.... Average.
Without another word, the school bus pulls up to the stop. We walked in one by one, after the door opened. As usual, I pick my seat at the very back.
The bus begins moving forward, and I sigh in relief. I couldn't wait to get this day over with.
-
While proceeding to skip first period to chill with the goths, a question stood still in my head. What exactly happened to that kid at my bus stop? Why wasn't he with the goths anymore? Did they kick him out?
Many thoughts occupied my mind, but I decided to shake it off and label it as overthinking. Maybe I'll mention it to the group later.
I walk along the school wall, until I made it to the goths' hiding spot.
"Oh, hey (Y/N)." Michael greets me from the stairs.
Henrietta puffs her smoke into the air, scanning me up and down. "Nice outfit."
"Oh, thanks." I reply, sitting myself on the final stair. "Wow, looks like the talent show is after this period." I start, attempting to start conversation.
"Don't worry, we've got this. Those posers won't see what's coming." Pete comments, taking a drag on his cigarette. He seemed a lot more interactive this morning, which was a good sign.
A few minutes of silence passed by, and I figured this would be the perfect time to ask.
"So, I was wondering-" I say, cracking my knuckles nervously. "Do you guys know some kid named Stan?"
They all perked up to the sound of his name, glaring at me intensely.
"Rave- I mean, Stan Marsh?" Michael stammers, dropping his cigarette to the floor. "That jock imposter?"
I nod my head slowly. "Yes? He goes to my bus stop. He mentioned something to his friends about not being apart of your group anymore. Any info on that?" I raise an eyebrow.
Henrietta sighs. "In short, he joined our group after he found out that his preppy girlfriend dumped him. Then he left because he found out that 'living life' was better than hating it." She scowls. "Fucking conformist." She mutters quietly.
"Yeah." We all say in unison.
"I mean, we still keep in touch and stuff, so it's not like we're enemies or anything." Pete states, flipping his hair. "It was his choice to leave anyways."
I nod in agreement, before the sound of the school bell echoed through the atmosphere.
"Well, that's our cue." Michael says, as the rest of the goths began to stand up.
Honestly, I was kind of excited. I never performed in a talent show before, due to my obvious stage fright. But now, I'll finally be able to participate with these iconic goth kids.
We step into the crowded hallway, packed with kids of all ages. I had gotten used to the feeling of everyone's eyes gazed upon me.
Then, we finally make our way backstage, preparing the instruments and rehearsing silently a few times. In all honesty, I was a bit nervous. However, we were only set to perform for about 10 seconds anyways.
Waiting patiently backstage, we quietly watch the other performances. Most of them related to singing and performing music, and evidently, almost all of them were done very well; although there was a small blonde kid who peed his pants during his act.
The curtain closes, and we begin to set up our instruments on the stage floor. I helped Henrietta set up her synthesizer keyboard, and I made sure that Michael's mic was turned on.
The curtain suddenly opens, exposing ourselves to the school.
Henrietta lights her cigarette, and begins tapping some keys on her synthesizer keyboard. I follow her pattern. Firkle softly taps the drums with his tiny drumsticks, and Pete begins rocking out with his bass guitar. After a few seconds, Michael begins to sing.
"No no no no no," He sang softly. "I'm not gonna be in the talent show."
We back him up with more music.
"Oh no no no no no," He pauses. "I'll never be in your f*ggy talent show." Michael concludes, and we finish off our music on a clear note.
In general, I thought we sounded pretty decent. We received a brief applause, as we took our exit on stage left.
The talent show MC steps on stage. "Alright, that was the goth kids with 'Talent Shows are for F*gs'." They announce.
Firkle spins his drumsticks around, beaming with delight. "That was fucking sick, dude." He says.
"Good job with the keyboard." Henrietta compliments, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nod in a mutual approach.
Michael takes a deep breath. "That was so killer, we really showed them." He says proudly, as everyone else nods in agreement.
"I hope we win." Pete comments, flipping his hair. "I remembered them saying that the grand prize was a $100 gift certificate to the town's local mall."
I smile softy, gazing at the floor.
"Yeah." We all say in wholesome unison.