Rites of Spring Break (Part 1)
By Beryl Greenfield
Dana Diamond, a sheltered teenage homeschooler, is looking to experience "the real world" at a sleep-away debate camp. When he mistakenly boards a bus full of co-eds headed for spring break in Miami, he finds himself thrown across the gender divide and into the middle of a bacchanalia beyond his wildest imaginings.
-.-.-
This was it, Dana thought as he loaded his bag onto the bus. He was standing on the cusp of his first taste of real freedom, away from the watchful eyes of his parents. Two whole weeks at a debate camp in Little Rock, and a secular camp at that! Dana could hardly guess at the people he might meet there, the things he might learn... Of course, of course, he'd also enjoy improving his debate technique, and competing in the intra-camp tournament. In fact he'd been up half the night checking and rechecking all his notes on the sociopolitical ties between Lebanon, Syria and Iraq. But he was most looking forward to meeting new people.
Dana's social circle, if one could call it that, had been severely limited for as long as he could remember. When Dana was two, his father was struck by an epiphany, one he often recounted in rapturous detail. He accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior, taking up Evangelicism with a fervor common to converts the world over. So when the time came for kindergarten, Dana's father decided that the nearby schools were sorely deficient and a corrupting influence on Dana's young mind to boot, and that he should be homeschooled. Dana's mother privately doubted the corrupting power of local schools, but she conceded the point about their quality and agreed to take charge of Dana's education.
Having no siblings, then, Dana's only real peer group was the half-dozen kids around his age who went to the same church. They were all perfectly nice, (a few were even fun,) but, being homeschooled themselves, they were just as insulated from the outside world as he was. Dana had gleaned bits and pieces of life beyond the Gospel from his schoolwork, and from furtive internet research during his alotted study time, but it didn't add up to a complete picture. Dana respected his father's guidance, but still he yearned to know: what were they like? The unsaved, that is. He was now just a ten-hour bus ride from finding that out firsthand.
Suffice it to say, Dana had never felt more excited. He had never felt more nervous, never felt more determined, never felt more distracted, never felt... more like he needed to pee. Immediately, if not sooner. There was no way he could hold it 'til the next stop, he would just burst. The bus was scheduled to leave in five minutes. But the passengers had only just begun checking in with the driver and shuffling on board. If he made a mad dash for it, he could return quickly enough that they wouldn't have to wait up for him. Dana really didn't want to anger the bus driver or other passengers, but this was urgent.
The only problem with the plan, Dana realized as he rushed away from the bus, was that he had no idea where the nearest bathroom was. There wasn't one by the open-air bus terminal, and his knowledge of the town's layout was sketchy at best, so he had run off in a more or less random direction. Athens, Georgia was a solid half an hour away from the small town where Dana's family lived. Even though his father taught at the university there, Dana himself rarely set foot in Athens. His father held an even dimmer view of the college town's morals than he did those at the local K-12 schools. His mother took him there every now and again, usually when his father was away at a conference. But he had no mental map of the town whatsoever.
Dana might have appreciated his difficulties in finding a bathroom as funny in a farcical kind of way, were it not for his intense physical discomfort. The first two were singles with no sign of a vacancy anytime soon, the third was closed due to flooding, and the fourth had been converted into an installation art piece. When, at the very end of his rope, he entered a coffee shop whose bathroom was customers only, he considered pulling an example cup off the counter and letting loose. Instead he ordered, sure, whatever the daily special was, yes with milk, regular milk not soy, yes whipped cream, yes grande size, here's the money now give me the confounded key!
Dana's relief at emptying his bladder was almost matched by his relief upon returning to the terminal. Not only was the bus still parked there, but a few people were still lined up to get onto it. His frenzied search hadn't even slightly inconvenienced them! Granted, that meant either the driver was incompetent or some other hold-up had occurred, but Dana wasn't inclined to ask questions at this point. He hurried over to the line and waited for the others to board.
"Last name?" The bored-looking bus driver didn't even glance up from his clipboard.
"Um, Diamond."
"Mmmmmhm. There we go. That's everyone."
As Dana stepped on the bus, the adrenaline from the run started ebbing and his nerves started going into overdrive. What would all these strangers think of him? Dana knew he didn't cut a very confident figure, even when he wasn't sweaty and winded. Puberty had not yet made its presence felt – a few stray pubic hairs and his voice cracking every once in a blue moon gave him hope that it was in the offing, but he had a ways to go. Dana was just past five-foot-one and maybe topped a hundred pounds after Thanksgiving dinner. His musculature could be charitably described as 'developing': he still carried a bit of 'puppy fat' despite being fairly light. That was one reason Dana didn't much mind being homeschooled up through high school – he didn't relish the idea of gym classes with a bunch of boys who'd mostly sprouted up and bulked out already.
Dana was dressed with comfort in mind, knowing he'd spend most of the day on a bus, (not that he prided himself on being stylish anyway.) His orange Georgia hoodie, handed down from his father, was much too big for him, stopping about halfway down his thighs. He thought the hoodie helped make him look a little larger by a kind of transitive property, but in fact it only emphasized how small he was.
His favorite pair of jeans, on the contrary, were a bit small for him now, clinging to his calves and just barely making it down to his ankles. They were still supremely comfy, faded almost to white in some spots after years of constant wear. Dana didn't much care for his powder blue tennis shoes, but it was hard finding shoes he liked in his size. At least they fit well.
Really the only part of his appearance that Dana thought could be called "cool" was his hair. He had been growing it out for some time now in emulation of his favorite musician, John Lennon. His father had objected strenuously, both on the grounds of tidiness and of Lennon's status as a blasphemer and a heathen. Here was a sure sign, the household's over-permissiveness with regards to secular music was eroding Dana's moral fiber! But Dana's mother had supported him, quietly reminding his father of those two traveling preachers with their impressive discourse on Scripture. They both had hair well past their shoulders and it hadn't lessened their commitment to God's Word one whit. His father had begrudgingly allowed Dana to keep growing his hair out, so long as it was kept clean and pulled back.
After his parents dropped him off at the terminal, he'd let his hair fall free. Dana's straight, straw-blonde hair was just at his shoulders now. He hoped the rockstar-inspired look would help him seem like less of a dweeb. The rest of the bus probably wasn't fooled at all though, he bet they'd started judging him as soon as he stepped on board. Okay, okay, breathe, just have to keep calm and collected–
Just a few steps down the aisle, Dana was tripped up by a shoelace that had come loose while running. He only avoided falling flat on his face by catching himself on the shoulder of a tall red-headed girl.
"Watch it, bitch," she spat, then immediately turned back to chat with her neighbor. Dana stammered an apology, fumbled to retie his shoe and hurried toward the back of the bus. So much for calm and collected: his heart was beating out of his chest. At least the other passengers were mostly too preoccupied with conversations or their cell phones to notice him blushing. There was only one open seat left, nearly all the way back. He slid onto the firm but comfortable seat and glanced over at his neighbor by the window.
Dana barely suppressed a gasp at the sight of his seat-mate – in his eyes she was downright intimidating, easily the most secular-looking person he'd ever met. Her wavy black hair was cut into a choppy, asymmetrical bob and was dyed here and there with streaks of purple. She had steel 1/4" plugs stretching her ears, as well as a silver stud above one nostril. Her eyeliner was thick, dark and immaculately smudged. She wore a crimson hoodie with a grinning imp covered in tattoos on the front, a knee-length black skirt and tights patterned to resemble a rusty chain-link fence. She had her feet tucked under the seat as she leaned forward, tapping away intently on her phone.
Noticing Dana's arrival, she sped up her typing to finger-blurring speeds and after a few moments she stuck her phone in her purse. She turned to Dana with a smile so warm and open that it immediately set him at ease, despite his initial impression.
"Hmm, I don't think I know you... first-year, right? Are you one of Jill's friends?"
Dana was at a loss for words for a while. She'd expected to possibly know him? And she guessed this was his first year going to the debate camp? And she knew Jill? That couldn't all just be a coincidence: surely she, too, was going to the same camp! She seemed a few years older than him, but they had campers up through twelfth grade so that wasn't too surprising. Dana had hoped that there would be others on the bus heading to Little Rock for the same reason, if only as something to connect over once they arrived, but to end up by chance next to a fellow camper – that was a stroke of luck! Maybe he'd make a friend before he even got to camp. She seemed nice, even if she was lightyears more hip than he was.
"Uhhhhm, yes," he managed at last. "Well-uh, I used to be, until..."
Jill had been one of his closer friends from church, ever since they were little. But when Dana was ten, Jill's father had a heated falling-out with other prominent church members, Dana's father included. Jill's family had left the church and moved away. Dana hadn't heard from Jill since. But before he could come up with the words to explain, his neighbor had already cut in.
"Ahhh, say no more, say no more, I know exactly what that bitch is like. Fickle as fuck – you're her number-one chick one week and then like, she freezes you out the next over some trifling BS. I wasn't going to say anything, y'know, but no lost love between us, either. And the fucking rumors she's spread about some of my friends..."
His seat-mate went on to recount an expletive-laden list of all the various nastiness that Jill had instigated against her or her friends. Dana, feeling confused and not a little uncomfortable, could only nod quietly as she vented. He didn't understand half of what she was saying, but what he did catch didn't sound anything like Jill. Then again, he hadn't seen her in over five years, so who knew how she'd changed? At any rate, there was no way he was going to raise objections to his neighbor's take on Jill: the bad blood clearly ran deep.
"Anyway, fuck her, forget her. There's like, tons of chill people on the trip, we will have no problem steering clear of her and her fake clique." She let out a long breath, rolled her shoulders, and then broke into a easy grin. "Look at my dumb ass, haven't even introduced myself yet! I'm Celia, Celia Caine, but everyone calls me CeCe."
She put her hand up to shake, but it was at an odd angle Dana had never seen used before. Instead, he ended up grabbing her wrist. His face flushed a deep red, but CeCe just shrugged it off with a goodnatured laugh.
"Um, Dana, I'm um, Dana Diamond, nice-to-meet-you-Cece." He couldn't look her in the face, couldn't look at the rest of her body, so he just looked at the window past her shoulder.
"Ohhh my God, really? Like that is so funny! Dana Diamond: Dee Dee! This is like, seriously fated, I swear..." Without warning, CeCe went in for a hug. Feeling a little light-headed, Dana's arms hung awkwardly at his sides until she broke away.
"And I mean that, Dee Dee – do you mind if I call you Dee Dee? – I truly believe everything happens for a reason, y'know?" Dana nodded; he knew God's hand was behind all that transpired on Earth, though he couldn't begin to guess why He meant for Dana to meet CeCe. She was certainly one of the stranger agents of His Divine Will.
"See, like, one of my closest, closest friends in grade school and middle school was Beatrix Bamford – Bebe. Then she like had to move, we lost touch, y'know, all that, but I've always thought I'd meet her counterpart, right, on the flip side of my name? But I've never met a single Dee Dee in all the years since! And like, it's not that uncommon of a combination, right? And so when you sat down, something clicked, y'know? Like I'd already met you somehow. And like now I know why."
Dana was not following her line of reasoning at all, but she spoke with such breathless conviction that he couldn't help nodding in agreement.
"Oh! Oh! And I just had my tarot read last night, y'know, to see like what to watch out for on the trip, and it definitely mentioned encountering 'a kindred spirit.' I thought maybe that meant like, a guy kind of kindred spirit, hehe, but like now I think that must mean you, Dee Dee."
Wait, tarot? He'd suspected CeCe was 'unsaved,' but tarot was a whole other can of worms.
"Tarot is the devil's instrument," Dana said, almost automatically. But CeCe just giggled and punched Dana lightly on the shoulder.
"You are such a hoot! Yeah, I'm like, totally consorting with demons and vile spirits through the tarot. And Satan's writing my horoscope, too."
Dana was dead serious. But CeCe's amusement was so infectious, he cracked a smile in spite of himself.
"And wait, wait – your last name is Diamond? Are you like, related to Rosie Diamond by any chance? Cousins? You like, kinda look like her, now that I think of it..."
Dana shook his head firmly. His mother was an only child, and his father had only one sister, who had never married (much to his father's disapproval.)
"Hmm, well like maybe you're secret cousins somehow! Like someone was adopted or estranged or something. There's a really strong resemblance, y'know. Rosie and I are are super tight, y'know, like this..." CeCe gestured by crossing her index and middle finger together. "I should like, introduce you two when we get back, actually! Rosie is like, chiller than chill. She was like supposed to come with me on the trip, but like... she got mono. Ugggh, right?" Dana grimaced along with CeCe, even though he didn't know what mono was. It sounded bad, the way she said it.
"Yeahhh, she's been like, completely laid out lately, like she can barely leave her bed." CeCe pulled a slight smirk. "Not that she left her bed that much before, y'know?" She arched an eyebrow and looked at Dana meaningfully, clearly expecting some kind of response.
"Uhhm, you mean... she, um, sleeps around the clock?"
Dana must have said something right, because CeCe grinned and tapped his shoulder. "Yeah, riiight? She 'sleeps around' the calendar, too! Haha, I'm like such a bitch, I know – no though, I like, love that girl to death, really, she's such a sweetheart. It's just like – with all the spit and spunk she's swapping, she's lucky mono was all she got, y'know? No, but really-really, Rosie's the best, the absolute best, you have to meet her." CeCe put her hand against Dana's shoulder to reassure him, as he'd started to look totally lost.
Then CeCe cocked her head and smiled, in a way that reminded Dana a little of his mother. "So like, let me ask you, Dee Dee: what d'you want to get out of this trip?"
Here, finally, was a topic Dana had something of a grip upon. Still he fumbled a bit over his words as he replied, "Oh, well um, I guess just um, to learn and... grow a little, ya know? And uhhh, to meet people, I suppose, too. Ohh, and I'm excited about the tournament also, for sure..."
CeCe scrunched her face up some, then snapped her fingers. "Ohhh, you mean the Beirut tournament?" Dana nodded slowly. The debate tournament wasn't only about Lebanon, but he supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch to call it a Beirut tournament.
"Okay, okay – sorry, I just didn't peg you as into that kind of thing, y'know? Have you like, even been in that level of tournament before?" Dana shook his head ruefully. "No, that's totally cool – I think you could go on a serious hot streak, with a bit of beginner's luck! Just like, maybe I'll give you some pointers before, is all? Not to brag, but like, I've got more than a little experience in that area."
Dana flat out beamed at CeCe: he could barely believe he'd not only met someone going to the same camp on the bus, but also someone willing to coach him through his first serious debate tournament too!
"Haha, woah, you're really set on this tournament, huh? But it's not like, uh, that cool of a prize or anything... are you looking to impress someone, maybe, ehh?" CeCe quirked her eyebrow again and smirked at Dana. He turned his gaze toward the floor and blushed.
"Well um, no-one in particular..." Dana was sure his parents would be thrilled if he placed high in the tournament. And if some (pretty) girl found him cool too – CeCe, even? No, she was cute but seemed a little too wild for him to consider more than a friend – well, that would be icing on the cake.
"Right, so just like, whoever comes along then? Yeah, I see you, Dee Dee. I'm not looking to like tie myself down to anyone on this trip, y'know? But yeah, if you've got like a good eye, a good arm, then like, some guys are bound to wonder how good you are at like, other things, mmm?"
Dana was losing track of CeCe's train of thought again. He tried to smile and nod and seem like he knew what she was talking about, but she clearly wasn't convinced. CeCe didn't seem to mind, though. She just giggled and laid her hand back on Dana's shoulder.
"So Dee Dee, not to ride you or anything but like... you sorta look like shit, honey. Like did you sleep at all last night? The night before?"
Dana blinked and thought, Well... have I? He frowned a little and shook his head. He had caught a couple of hours of sleep two nights ago. But last night, he had been so jazzed that he had more or less been up the whole night, making sure he hadn't forgotten to pack anything and going over his notes for fresh angles on the debate topic. Dana felt tired down to the marrow of his bones, but between the rocky motion of the bus and the caffeine in that peppermint mocha from the coffee shop, there was no way he was getting to sleep anytime soon.
"Um, not really, no, but I can't get to–"
"Hold on: I have just the thing."
CeCe reached into her purse and quickly procured a small plastic baggie filled with blue-green capsules. She tapped one into her palm and held it out to Dana.
"Here, 10 migs of Sonata. You'll sleep like a fucking baby, no problem."
"Uhhhhhh... is it, um, safe?" Dana had very little experience with pills apart from the occasional aspirin. CeCe held it in her hand as though it were a breath mint.
She snorted in response to his question. "Sonata? Like, please. My kid sister's taken it. My 80 year-old granny's taken it. Ever had Nyquil?" Dana had, a few times. "This is like, just a step up from that."
Dana nodded and took the pill from CeCe. He tried swallowing it dry and failed miserably. Then he remembered there was still some peppermint mocha left, and used that to wash it down. CeCe resumed texting on her phone, continuing to chat with (well, more like talk at) Dana. After about fifteen minutes, Dana felt himself sinking into sleep.
-.-.-
"Dee Dee! DEE DEE! Dana? Mission control to Dee Dee: we have reached our destination. So like, wake the fuck up!"
Dana awoke to CeCe standing over him and lightly shaking him. Had he really slept through the whole ten-hour drive? It was dark out now and the bus was empty, so apparently he had. Oddly, he didn't feel all that refreshed. A thick, syrupy fog of drowsiness hung over his head, leaving him slow and confused.
"There you are, sleepyhead. Thought I'd lost you for a minute there! Now like, c'mon, chop chop, everyone else has already checked in and shit. Let's grab our stuff and go!"
Dana shambled off of the bus behind CeCe and went around to the luggage compartment. She pulled a duffel bag, an overstuffed backpack and two pieces of rolling luggage off the bus, then frowned and turned to Dana.
"Ummm, there aren't any more bags here, Dee Dee. You did bring a bag with you, right?" Dana nodded and stared at the empty compartment, baffled but strangely unconcerned. "Ugh, then one of those dumb bitches must have like took yours by mistake."
Dana shook his head slowly. "It um, had a patch with my name on it, big letters across the front. Hard to mistake it."
CeCe pulled a face and nodded. "Plus like, if they mistook your bag for theirs, they would have left their own bag here... fuck, did one of them straight up snatch it, then? Like I know there's some shady motherfuckers on this trip, but like, that's low even for them – or fuck, maybe some rando just walked up and and took it? I've been trying to get you up for like, at least ten minutes and like, it's not like the driver's been watching our shit... fuck! Did anyone mess with my shit?" CeCe zipped open her duffel bag and quickly rummaged through it, then did the same for her other luggage. She seemed satisfied that everything was still in place.
Neither CeCe nor Dana suspected that his bag was, in fact, on a nearly identical-looking bus in another city over a thousand miles away.
"I don't know what to tell you, Dee Dee: that sucks. Look, let me go check in, and then I'll check in with the other girls and see if like anyone saw anything, or like if they did anything. And like, if one of them took it, I will know, and I'll fuck them up, don't worry. But like yeah, my money's on some random jackass jacking your shit. Fuck, like, just chill here, okay? I'll be quick."
CeCe shouldered the backpack and duffel, grabbed one piece of rolling luggage in each hand and rushed into the hotel, (or perhaps convention center,) where Dana presumed the debate camp was being held. From what he could see of the lobby, the building was much glitzier than he'd expected, with a lot of mirrored sculptures and leather couches. But then, Dana hadn't had any experience with big city hotels, so what did he know?
Dana was still too foggy to take much interest in the bustling street around him – or, for that matter, the recent misfortune that had befallen him. The glare of the LED signs and the distant sound of sirens had the unreality of a dream. Maybe he'd wake up back at home, having not yet left for his trip.
The minutes crawled by. Soon enough, CeCe came back outside with just her oversize purse on her shoulder. She shrugged and said, "Yeah, no luck. No-one saw shit, and if any of them did take it, they're like, way too cold-blooded to admit it. Sorry, Dee Dee."
CeCe sighed, then abruptly drew in close and put her hand on Dana's shoulder. He flinched, but CeCe didn't seem to notice. "Look, we're gonna get through this, okay? Losing your shit sucks, but like... it's just things, y'know? Like, what you own doesn't define you as a person, right? It's just there to like help you along 'til it breaks or it's stolen or whatever, and like returns to the earth and decomposes and, y'know, gets swept back up into the universal circulation of energy and all that, you feel me, Dee Dee?" CeCe was starting to get very animated, gesticulating a lot. Dana nodded in agreement, although he was only half-following her.
"And plus really, y'know, if you think about it... this could actually be a good thing for you!" CeCe continued. "Like, now you don't have all that crap tying you to the past anymore – you're like, totally free to do whatever now, reinvent yourself, be reborn. And like this city is the perfect place to experiment, go wild, like there's all sorts of crazy shit going down, y'know?" Dana actually had been planning to go a little out of his comfort zone, but he was definitely not looking for the wholesale 'rebirth' CeCe had in mind. He had to admit though, she made it sound so breezy and natural.
"Oh, and plus: shopping! I was like going to go soon anyway, 'cause the clothes I brought aren't gonna last the whole break, but like now, why wait? I know this great mall, not super far from here, open late, and I swear..."
Dana zoned out completely as CeCe started extolling the mall's many virtues. Questions drifted through his fogged brain: did he have enough money to replace the clothes he lost? He had brought a good portion of his savings with him, a few hundred dollars in cash. There had to be a laundry service in the hotel, or a laundromat nearby, so he only needed a few outfits to make it through the two weeks. Dana puzzled over how CeCe could somehow not have enough clothes packed in her four full pieces of luggage, but he thought it best not to ask.
"... C'mon, let's catch a cab!" CeCe grabbed Dana's arm and pulled him toward the curb. No sooner had a cab pulled over than CeCe's purse began to buzz furiously. She pulled out her phone, flicked it on and let out a long, low breath. "Oh? Ohh. Fuck. Shitfuck. Okay." She waved away the cab. "Look, I'll be like right back, 'kay?" Without waiting for an answer, she dashed back into the hotel.
Five minutes later she returned, a little winded, and hailed another cab. "OK, so, like... something just came up. We... I've gotta meet with this guy like real quick, then we'll hit the mall, cool?"
"Uhhh, shouldn't I go check in with the–"
"Nah, I like already took care of that. You're in the clear, Dee Dee."
It seemed a little odd that the camp directors would let CeCe check Dana in for him, but as Dana was beginning to realize, she could be very persuasive when she wanted to. He nodded his assent and boarded the cab after CeCe.
CeCe gave some directions to the cab driver. He seemed instantly skeptical, expressing his reluctance in no uncertain terms, although because of his accent Dana could only pick up on the tone, not the content, of his response. CeCe fired back heatedly, soon switching to another language that Dana, if he had to guess, would say was Spanish. That would only be a lucky guess on his part, however, as he'd heard little apart from English in his life.
The cabbie remained dubious, but after a couple minutes of CeCe's tirade he threw up his hands and started to drive. Satisfied, CeCe began tapping away at her phone, leaving Dana to stare blankly out the window as the city passed by. The scene meant very little to him: cars going who knows where, people entering or leaving buildings, signs advertising this or that service, the occasional swarm of pigeons or rats. It was all very new and unusual, but Dana couldn't fit it into any kind of coherent picture.
The cars and the people grew sparser, the signs and streetlights grew dimmer, the storefronts grew shabbier and the rats grew bolder. Soon there was no-one around at all except for their cab. They stopped next to an apartment building flanked on both sides by trash-strewn lots.
CeCe asked the cabbie to keep the meter running while she went inside, which he flatly refused to do. She began haranguing him again, calling into question his intelligence, his courage and his mother's virtue, calling him every unpleasant word Dana knew and (presumably) many others he didn't know. But the cabbie was unmovable, coldly repeating his request for their fare. At last CeCe ran out of steam and gave up, handing over just enough to cover the fare. They stepped out into the humid night air.
"So um, Dee Dee: this guy I'm meeting, he's like, kind of private, like shy even, doesn't like to meet new people, y'know? So... just like chill out here while I talk to him and I'll be right back, okay?" Dana shrugged. The weather was nice enough, and even if there wasn't much to see around here, there was no doubt it was very different from his hometown. CeCe gave him a small smile, squeezed his arm, and entered the dilapidated building.
Dana hummed softly to himself as he waited: "All You Need Is Love" by the Beatles. It was one of the few songs by them that his father enjoyed hearing, so long as he reminded everyone that the 'love' in question was that of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. Dana agreed, of course, but he also just thought the melody was catchy.
"Nothing you can know that isn't known / Nothing you can see that isn't shown / Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be / It's easy..."
Dana was distracted by some movement in the corner of his eye. He turned to see that a figure had turned onto the block and was walking in his direction. More like weaving, really, shambling forward with a side-to-side kind of gait. Dana wondered if perhaps this person was also meeting the same guy as CeCe. He resumed humming. "Here Comes the Sun" now, a little ironic he supposed, since the sun had set a couple hours ago.
But the figure did not enter the apartment building. He, (for the figure was a man in a ratty tank-top,) walked right up to Dana and waved a knife in his face. "Gimme the bag, bitch. Now." His breath was the stale stench of malt liquor left to rot in the sun.
Dana didn't respond at first, unable to process what was happening to him. But the man prompted him with "You deaf, bitch? Need me to fix your ears for you?" and Dana pulled off his backpack and handed it over.
"Good bitch. Your phone? Wallet?"
"It's all – everything is in there. Okay?" Dana gestured at his pants pockets, which were too tight to fit anything comfortably and thus were empty. The man nodded and grunted. Then he took Dana roughly by the shoulder, jerked him around, and grabbed at his ass to check the back-pockets. Nothing there either.
"Lucky for you I don't fuck flat bitches. Have a pleasant motherfuckin' evening." And with that, the man stumbled away – with a little more pep in his step, Dana might have noted were he not in the throes of a panic attack.
The adrenaline rush from the robbery mixed with the Sonata hangover left Dana reeling. He lost all sense of time: was it an hour, or only five minutes, before CeCe exited the building to find him shivering in the sticky heat?
"All riiight, Dee Dee, just called us a cab, let's do this thing – what's wrong?"
".... I, I umm, I mean he, this guy um, he, he took my bag."
CeCe had come out of the apartment building with a loose, almost goofy grin on her face. But in an instant, her expression became the perfect picture of crestfallen empathy. She swept Dana up in a close embrace, murmuring softly and stroking the back of his head.
"Ohhh, honey, sweetie, Dee Dee... you got robbed? That's fucking terrible, I'm so sorry, you must be so scared right now, you're shaking like crazy... I am so sorry. You did the right thing, giving it up. It's just stuff, it's not worth your life–"
"But, but the, the bag had all my notes in it," Dana blurted out. He hadn't thought about it in the heat of the moment, but his big binder with all the debate notes for the tournament was in that backpack. It would take ages to replace all his notes, and even then he couldn't be sure he hadn't missed something.
"Notes? Like, school notes?" CeCe laughed in spite of herself, then pulled back some from Dana and kissed his forehead. "Honey.... I could tell you were a little uptight but like, you brought notes on the trip? Look, Dee Dee, when we get back I want you to teach me all your study secrets, 'cause like, clearly you've got that on lock, but right now? Forget your fucking notes, it's time to live, baby!"
CeCe winked and smiled at Dana, but quickly sombered up and pulled him in for another hug. She smelled different, something Dana couldn't quite place: a sort of skunky, smoky aroma.
"But still, ohhhhhh, what a way to start your break, huh? First your luggage gets jacked, then the rest of your stuff? Welcome to MIA, right, where all your shit goes MIA!" She laughed bitterly. "But seriously, this is all my fault. All my fucking fault. I'm such a dumbass! I should never have taken you here, I just thought – well, I wasn't thinking, clearly. Fuck me. I'm so, so, so, so sorry. I've got to be more on top of it."
She loosened the hug to look Dana straight in the face. Her eyes had a look of pure steel to them, filled with a determination little diminished, even enhanced, by how bloodshot they were. They were so red, Dana couldn't help but wonder if she was seriously ill, or perhaps possessed. But CeCe seemed completely calm and in control.
"Dee Dee. Listen to me. Don't worry. I'm gonna make this up to you, okay? And... and..." CeCe took a deep breath and laid her head on Dana's shoulder. Then she straightened up and looked him right in the eye again. "And I never do this – I mean, I've only ever done this when it's really, really, really important. Like... like when I would rather choke on my own tongue than break my word. Like then. Y'know?" Dana did not know. "I swear on the grave of my mother, Maria Camila Caine, I will never let anyone hurt you here. No-one."
A heavy silence hung in the air between them. Dana couldn't say how long they stood there looking at each other. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a black car rolled up in front of them.
"There's our ride! Let's go."
Still a little shaky, Dana climbed into the car after CeCe. She spoke with the driver about their route, then turned to Dana: "Maybe something to take the edge off, hmm? I've got just the thing!" She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a sizeable steel flask with a mash-up of the Venus symbol and the skull-and-crossbones engraved on the side. After taking a swig, she held it out to Dana. "Have as much as you like, I've got like, gallons more good shit back at the hotel."
Dana took the flask in hand and sniffed at it. "Um, what is this?"
"What, you were expecting the hard stuff? It's schnapps, Dee Dee! You like peppermint?" He nodded.
But what was schnapps? Some kind of soda? Dana didn't want to ask and risk her realizing how little he knew about the world. CeCe had vowed she wouldn't let any harm come to him, and she didn't seem like the type to break her word. So whatever schnapps was, it must be harmless, he reasoned.
Dana took a tentative sip from the flask. It wasn't soda, but it was a syrupy-sweet drink that tasted, as promised, of peppermint. It was actually really tasty! He took a bigger gulp of it, to wash away the bad taste the mugger had left in his mouth.
"Good, huh? – Wait, fuck, you slept through our lunch stop, right? You haven't had shit to eat all day, you must be fucking ravenous!"
"Yeah, um, I guess I am pretty hungry?" He took another slurp of the schnapps.
"Look, don't like drink too much of that on an empty stomach, unless the idea of candy-cane vomit appeals to you. Speaking from experience here." That made sense: too much sweet stuff and nothing else was bound to upset your stomach. "Well fuck, we've like gotta fix that then, huh? The food court at the mall kinda sucks ass – there's a great fucking pizza place not too far though. Does pizza sound good?" Dana nodded. "What toppings do you like? I'll have 'em deliver to the mall, we'll bring it in, no-one'll give a shit."
"Uhhh... sausage, spinach and onion, I guess." That was what his father always ordered when they had pizza.
"Nice picks! I'll call them up now."
-.-.-
An hour later, Dana was feeling much better. The pizza had been terrific, as promised, and nobody batted an eye about them bringing it into the mall. He found it remarkable how many people were still shopping at this hour, since it was almost 8 PM, but it was a Friday after all.
Dana had also made his way through half of the schnapps in the flask. CeCe had recommended mixing it into some cola, and he thought the two tastes did blend quite nicely. He was starting to feel a bit unusual: light-headed, warm and giddy. CeCe had been cracking a lot of jokes, half of which he didn't understand, but he'd laughed at them all anyway. Something about the way she told them was just hilarious. He kept fairly quiet otherwise, but that was fine by her.
"All right!" CeCe said, clapping her hands together. "You ready for some serious shopping, Dee Dee? I mean like, we can always shop more later, but like, let's not half-ass it, y'know? We're not leaving 'til we've got enough fly shit to turn heads and drop jaws for like, at least the next few days."
Dana wasn't sure he wanted any 'fly shit' at all. And turning heads and dropping jaws was more of CeCe's department: he just wanted clothes that would help him fit in with the other campers. "Um, I dunno, CeCe, I uh, just need like some basics to–"
CeCe put a finger up to his lips to shush him. "Dee Dee, listen to me. I get it, you're frugal, and like, I do like that in a friend, but now is like so not the time to be thinking like that. You want to impress people, you dress the part, no matter what your style is, y'know? You walk around in like, just the basics, that sensible safe shit, and like, they'll fuckin' eat you alive out there. I mean, haters gonna hate no matter what, but like, if you're really rocking it and feeling yourself, you're untouchable, y'know? And plus, like, in this town? Just like, strike the word 'basics' from your vocabulary, people don't play like that here. Understand?"
As happened so often when CeCe was making a speech, Dana did not understand. Or rather, he was unable to break her argument down into its component parts and use logic to assess its validity, which was his accustomed mode of understanding. However, the passion behind her words was perfectly clear to him, so in a different sense he did understand her.
"Oh and like, also remember, this is all me, 'kay? I'm the dumbass who let your shit get jacked, so I'm taking care of it. And like, not to be gross about it but like, money is so not even a thing for me right now. I've got stacks for days, you feel me, Dee Dee? So like, don't even look at the price-tag, y'know, if you like it you take it." Dana was glad he wouldn't be a burden on CeCe, but he was also resolved not to take advantage of her generosity.
"Shit, I'm like, such a fucking flake, I just realized: you should cancel your cards like, yesterday, that fucker's probably burning through them like, as we speak. Fuck, did you have a debit card on you?"
"I uh, I don't have any. Cards, I mean, um, credit, debit..." The discussion of credit cards had never even been raised at his house. Dana had never really felt the need: he didn't shop much.
CeCe looked a little taken aback. "So then like, um, you were just gonna use your ATM card to get cash when you needed it?"
Dana shook his head. "My bank's too small to have ATMs in other places."
Now CeCe was the one shaking her head, in disbelief. "That means... you just rolled up here with cash? Straight-up cash. How much?"
"Uhhh, three-hundred twenty-five dollars. And um, fifty cents."
"In bills. Three hundo in bills, and no cards." CeCe threw up her hands and chuckled. "I mean, fuck me, like I'm one to talk, I've got some pants-shitting paper in my purse like right now, but I've also got a fucking g– I mean, I've got a back-up plan, y'know? You were just like, planning to walk around with only cash, for any jackass to snatch?" She let out a long breath. "Stick close to me, 'kay Dee Dee? Like, as you've already seen, this city can be an absolute motherfucker."
CeCe drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. "Okay, no cards then. I'll give you one of mine, for when we split up – hopefully not too often, eh Dee Dee? You'll also need a new phone. There's a good place for them here, like I think they can even switch your number over right in store."
"I... um..." Dana hesitated. "Yeah... uhh, I um..." He knew CeCe would think less of him for this, but he couldn't let her replace a phone he didn't have to begin with. "I didn't, uh, I mean I, I don't own, um, a cell phone."
CeCe made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. "Really? No cell? You're not like, fucking with me right now, right? 'Cause you don't sound like you're fucking with me." Dana shook his head and started blushing. "Okay, okay, like chill out though Dee Dee, no judgment here, y'know... but really? Not even like, one of those dinky flip ones? Okay. Sorry, but like I just have to ask: are you Amish? Or like, an anarcho-primitivist or some shit like that? Like, am I breaking your sacred vows by taking you to the mall right now?"
Dana blushed even harder and stared at the table. "Ummm, no, I'm not Amish, but... um, Jesus did say to 'be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of one's possessions.'" That was a passage his father often quoted in arguments about money with his mother.
"Yeah no, like, Jesus sounds like he knew his shit, and like, I totally respect him on that. But," and here CeCe reached out and lifted Dana's chin to look him dead in the eye, "respect me on this: I'm buying you a fucking phone. This is so not up for debate, don't even start, 'kay? It's not about covetousness, it's about safety. Like, what if we get separated or you get lost or something, hmm? Would Jesus want you getting like, dismembered and buried in five different parks? No? Then we're agreed, great!"
CeCe let out a long, slow breath. Then she retrieved the flask from her purse and nonchalantly took a long pull from it. Smacking her lips, she said, "Alright, let's spend some fucking money! One of my favorite spots is like, right over there."
The woman working the register had aquamarine hair and enough metal in her face to fill a shotglass. She gave them the faintest of nods as they entered, then continued fiddling with her phone. Skittering synths and a pulsing beat filled the room, as did racks upon racks of what Dana could only describe as "cool clothes." Too cool for him, really... but there did seem to be some relatively "normal" stuff on the men's side toward the back, hoodies and t-shirts and what looked to be cargo pants. CeCe was busy browsing a jewelry display near the front, so Dana slipped away to that section.
Dana had only just begun considering a couple of t-shirts (one with an angry owl saying "I don't give a hoot," and another with a spikey blue cartoon character he didn't recognize,) when CeCe appeared by his side, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Yeahhh uhh, Dee Dee, I don't know, I mean, like, you do you, right, but like, the whole 'ironic middle-school boy' thing is like, really some next-level shit, y'know, like not that you couldn't rock it but like, I don't know if the rest of the world is really ready, like, you feel me?" She had a somewhat pained expression, so Dana just nodded blankly to reassure her. "Plus like, I mean, like as you obviously, like, know, everything in this stretch of the store is kinda, like, y'know... butch?" Dana wasn't familiar with the term. But it had to mean something serious for CeCe, who used the words "fuck" and "shit" like "the" and "is," to say it so reluctantly.
CeCe's eyes widened and she began gesturing wildly. "Which, oh wait shit, are you gay? I mean, fuck, no like, that's like, totally cool with me, like haha, I like really really so don't even care, like I'm not like, a homophobe or anything, y'know, like, nooo, like I totally know tons of gay people, it's like, not even like a thing for me, it's just, like, umm, like I just umm, didn't think you were like that, y'know?"
Dana felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to his face. CeCe thought he was gay? He had only been looking at some shirts! He was a God-fearing, girl-loving, totally normal American teen. Did his fashion sense seem gay somehow? He didn't even know what gay fashion was – or what fashion was, period, for that matter. Without making eye contact, he stammered out a response: "W-what? Me, g-g-gay? N-no, no, I am not gay, absolutely not. I uhh, I don't even know why you – I just, it's like..." He knew he couldn't say that his mother was still responsible for most of his wardrobe. "I just, uhh, I don't buy many clothes, okay? I don't, uhh, know what's cool, or whatever, that's all..."
He mustered up the courage to look up at CeCe. She looked immensely relieved. Reaching out to pat him on the shoulder, she said, "No like, look, it's okay, Dee Dee. I get it, I totally get it, and you like, so do not need to feel bad about it. Really it's me who, well... I umm, I'm sorry I freaked out on you a little there. I just jumped to conclusions and uh... I was just surprised, y'know? Like, it's like this: I can kinda feel people's auras, right, when I'm around them enough I can like, synch up to their wavelength, catch the vibrations they're giving off, y'know? And so part of that is, like, I have really good gaydar, like I'm basically never wrong. And so, uh, I felt like, totally synched up to you, but I didn't get that vibe from you at all. So I'm like, definitely definitely not homophobic, okay, it's just that I was confused." Dana was confused by the discussion of auras, but he was too relieved that she believed him to ask her about it.
"Love the sinner, hate the sin," he murmured softly. It was a phrase his mother often brought up when his father started ranting about the degeneracy of the modern age.
"Um, yeah! Like Jesus was uh, all about tolerance and shit, right, even if um, certain stuff makes you a little uncomfortable, it's just like, live and let live, y'know?" CeCe sighed. "Glad that's out of the way. But..." Then very suddenly, she gripped Dana by both shoulders and looked at him with a firm gaze. "Dee Dee, you trust me, right?"
"Uh, yes." He trusted her more than he'd ever expected to trust someone he'd known for less than a day.
"You know I've got your back?"
"Yes."
"You know I don't play games?"
"Yes." Dana wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he went along with it.
"Then like, I think I have the answer to your fashion crisis. Which I mean, look, it's NBD, like you were probably too busy studying to go shopping, right, and I respect that, but – you remember what I was saying earlier, about everything happening for a reason, and about misfortune actually being like, an opportunity, and about this being a chance for rebirth?" Dana nodded, for once having an idea of where CeCe was headed. "Well, it's become like, totally obvious to me that we were meant to meet on the bus, and that other stuff that seemed fucking shitty was meant to happen too. I think, no, I know, I'm meant to be, like, the midwife to your rebirth, y'know?" Dana was a little worried by this talk of 'rebirth,' but CeCe was on a roll now, and he didn't see much hope of slowing her down.
"Like, okay, you see me on the street, right, and maybe you're like, I don't know, a fucking prep or a surfer or some shit, like you're not even 'bout that life, y'know, but the point is, you'd still say, 'That is one stylin'-ass bitch,' no question. And plus, okay, not to brag here Dee Dee, but back in the day I used to run this style blog with my bestie Eve – ummm, yeah, former bestie anyway, um, she, well, we –" CeCe cleared her throat and looked away from Dana.
"Anyway that's like really not relevant right now. The point is, we ran this blog, Back Alley Style Surgeons, aka BASS, natch, and it was big. Like, you wouldn't have heard of it, we were like underground, right, but we ran the underground. It's like, we were there before there was even there, you feel me?" Dana made an indistinct sound that CeCe chose to interpret as a sign of understanding.
"All this is to say, when it comes to style, I know my shit, okay? I could write a fucking book, and like, fuck, when I'm done with school I might!" CeCe chuckled, let go of Dana's shoulders, and softly patted him on the head. "So like, don't even stress about not knowing clothes, okay, just leave it all up to me, Dee Dee. I swear, like you won't even believe it's you by the time we're done, you'll be, like, sharp as a fucking razor, y'know?"
CeCe was clearly pleased as punch at the prospect of picking out clothes for Dana. He felt more than a little nervous at the idea – he couldn't look anywhere near as cool as CeCe, could he? Yet another part of him was hopeful, even excited. Maybe it was her enthusiasm rubbing off, (and though he didn't realize it, also the schnapps,) but he felt like everything was going to turn out all right in the end. Besides, he'd already shown himself to be hopeless when it came to choosing clothes, so what better choice did he have?
"Okay, CeCe, I trust you. Um, I leave myself in your hands."
CeCe enveloped Dana in a breath-takingly tight hug. "Yay! Ohh, Dee Dee, I promise you, this is going to be like, so much fucking fun." Dana began to sweat a little, as he couldn't help becoming aware of CeCe's breasts pressing against him. With difficulty, he willed himself to think of anything else. He saw now why his church forbade any contact beyond a handshake between unmarried people of the opposite sex.
Mercifully, the hug soon ended. CeCe stepped back and pursed her lips, giving Dana a close examination. "All right, like we'll deal with your hair first, definitely, like everything sorta has to follow from that. You've got mad split ends, Dee Dee, it's clearly been a while since you've had a trim." This was true; he hadn't had his hair cut since he started growing it out, over a year ago.
"Okay, sure, but um, I don't want it short, y'know?"
"Yeah, not to worry, I'm thinking like, some super minor changes, just enough to make it pop, y'know? A couple inches to even it out, a little shaping and styling and such and, like, some highlights here and there to turn things up a notch, you feel me?" Dana wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but none of it sounded too drastic, so he deferred to her expertise.
"Great! And the salon on the second floor is the fucking bomb, trust me. If we're lucky, my two favorite chicas in, like, this whole damn city are working tonight."
The salon matched up fairly well to the expectations of Dana, who'd never been in one: a row of chairs and mirrors flanking each side of the sleekly furnished room, and a desk up front with a waiting area. Two chairs were occupied on either side of the room, with three of the four customers getting their nails done and one getting her hair cut.
"And we are in luck!" CeCe effused. "They're the two working on the left side: the Twins. Doesn't look like they'll be tied up too long – I should be able to squeeze you in."
The 'Twins' were in many respects as dissimilar as you could expect two women to be. The one cutting hair was tall, approaching six feet, and lean, with sharply defined cheekbones. Her angular features were softened somewhat by her graceful movements and gentle self-assuredness. She looked as though she wouldn't even blink if a piano were to come crashing to the ground right in front of her. On the other hand, the one giving a manicure was a few inches shy of five feet and quite curvy, with a plump heart-shaped face. She regularly made sharp and sudden gestures as she worked and spoke, suggestive of a restless energy looking to vent itself. Her resting facial expression was the perfect blend of distaste and dissatisfaction.
"But uhh, they don't look –"
"Anything alike? Haha, I know, right? They might be like, fraternal twins, though – or I guess it would be 'sororal' in their case? Anyway, that's like how they were introduced to me: 'Las Gemelas.' And that's what like everyone calls them. Who fucking knows, right? But like, they are the best at what they do, like I'm talking miracle workers, I shit you not."
"What umm... what are their names?" Dana didn't feel comfortable calling them the Twins.
"Thing is, I still don't fucking know. The girl at the desk calls them the Twins, or like, just points at them. And whenever I've spoken with them – 'cause I run into them in like, the strangest fucking places, and like we've had some legit conversations – they've never offered their names. Totally weird, right? I probably could find out but like, I kinda like the mystery, y'know? Anyway, like, in my head the tall one is Una and the short one is Otra, but that's not to their faces, 'kay? Regardless, Dee Dee, I don't think you'll be talking with them much. They're not super chatty when they work, especially if they don't know you." CeCe paused and put a hand on Dana's shoulder. "So like, yeah... at first the Twins may seem a little spooky, but like trust me, they are mega cool people and they know what they're doing. Just relax and let them do their thing." She patted his shoulder and went to talk to the receptionist.
Dana didn't think he would have any trouble relaxing. For some reason, he felt more relaxed and loose than he could ever recall being in the past. Almost too loose, in fact. He was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet, so he sat down in the waiting area.
CeCe spoke with the receptionist for a little while, then pulled a rubber-banded roll of bills from her purse and passed it to her. By this time Una had finished with the haircut, so CeCe ambled over to talk with her. They shook hands, then CeCe started speaking rapid-fire at Una, who nodded thoughtfully. She said a few words to CeCe, evoking a big grin and a tight hug that Una took with equanimity. CeCe rushed back to Dana.
"Yeah it's like, all set up, Dee Dee! You're in good hands, like, literally: I'm having them give you the works, and Otra's massages are un-fucking-believable, like, wow. You're in for a treat. So like, anyway, this all will take a while. I'm gonna go for a walk and burn some spliffs, 'kay? With fashion, like, I work better when I'm kinda lifted, y'know? Okay, I think they're ready for you, see ya!" She leaned over and gave Dana a peck on the forehead before leaving.
Una motioned to Dana for him to follow her. She led him into a smaller backroom with a massage table, a curtained booth, and some supply cabinets.
"Strip, please."
"Uhhhh..." Did he really need to strip down for a massage?
"Strip." This was Otra, who had come in after Dana and prodded him roughly in the middle of the back. Una smiled and gestured to the booth. Dana sighed and entered the booth, stripping down to his boxers and socks.
"Those too."
Dana slowly pulled off his socks. Then, a little helplessly, he said, "Umm, I... I can't..." Exposing himself to these women was surely sinful, even if they asked him to do it. Not to mention embarassing.
The Twins looked at each other and smiled knowingly. Una retrieved something small and black from a cabinet and handed it to Dana. It was underwear, similar to briefs but stretchier and smaller. "Wear this. For–" here she gestured at his crotch, "modesty. To conceal." She gave him an encouraging nod.
Dana went back into the booth and turned the garment over in his hands. Why was this okay but the boxers weren't? His confusion was compounded by his overall feeling of wooziness. Well, the Twins weren't going to continue with his boxers on, and this thing was better than nothing, so he might as well. He shed his boxers and slid the black underwear up his legs. Wow, these were really tight! Painfully so, even, especially around his genitals. Having not hit puberty, his stuff was still quite small, but even so... There was no way these were the right size.
"Umm, the, I mean, they don't fit," he called from the booth.
"Pull it back, between the legs, then put them on," Una replied.
Dana blushed from her indirect reference to his package. Trying to do as she instructed, he managed to get the underwear on with everything tucked away. It was no longer outright painful to wear, but still very uncomfortable. He looked down at his now-smooth crotch and felt a little odd, though he couldn't say why.
He stepped out of the booth and made a face. "It's, it's still..."
Una nodded. "It pinches, yes. Give it time, soon you won't notice."
Otra tsked and patted the massage table. "Up you go, come now." Avoiding their eyes, Dana walked over and laid down on the table. He'd expected to feel cold, wearing so little, but while the rest of the mall was heavily air-conditioned, the backroom was not. The pleasant humidity made him feel even drowsier. The Twins murmured to each other in Spanish as Otra began the massage.
Having never been given a massage, Dana had no expectations for it. Had he had any, however, Otra would surely have exceeded them. Tension he didn't even know he had melted away at her touch. It was as though she were kneading out all his worries and concerns – untethering him from the world, in a way.
He gradually became aware of a low, melodic hum coming from somewhere above him. The hum was too sustained and too even in tone for a person to make, but also too beautiful and too meaningful to be the incidental product of a machine. Where was the hum coming from? Dana decided it didn't matter.
Warmth started to spread from his ankles up to his thighs. He thought it was just his body responding to the massage until Una ripped the first strip of wax off.
"Aaaugh, what the heck! What–"
"Shhhh. Over very soon." Tearing strips off one after the other, Una removed all the wax in the span of a minute that felt more like an hour. Otra continued the massage as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His legs felt on fire, but Una rubbed a soothing balm onto them that helped a little.
After a while, Otra prodded Dana, saying, "Get up now." Dazed, he rose and donned the white robe that Una held out to him. Otra scooted him back into the main room and sat him down at a sink. She washed his hair like she was running it through a spin cycle. Then she stood him up and nudged him in the direction of Una, who was prepping her station.
"Have a seat." Dana did. As Una wrapped the plastic cape around him, she locked eyes with him through the mirror. "There is much to be done." Dana nodded, barely suppressing a yawn. Why was he feeling so drowsy all over again? He'd only been up for a few hours. "Would you like me to tell you a story while we work?"
Dana perked up a little. A story? "Umm, yes, um, I'd like that." Una smiled softly, then she began snipping away at his hair.
-.-.-
"There once lived a king who was the most powerful in all the land. Through shrewd bargaining, new trade agreements enlarged his coffers tenfold. With his prowess as a soldier and a general, his conquests expanded his lands tenfold. And by way of an intricate string of deceits, he managed to capture a dragon and free the beautiful princess that they had held prisoner.
"He chained the dragon in his castle's deepest dungeon and tortured them into revealing long-forgotten secrets, which he used to increase his wealth and influence another tenfold. The king took the princess as his queen. She bore him three healthy sons, but died after giving birth to the third. The next morning, the dragon had vanished from the dungeon.
"The king's power grew and grew, and the three princes all grew into capable young men. One day the king decided to settle the question of who was most worthy to succeed him. He declared that the princes would all undertake quests of their own devising. Whoever proved to the king's satisfaction that he was the best of the three would be named heir.
"The eldest son was a brilliant scholar. He decided to uncover the secret of turning lead into gold, so that the kingdom would never want for wealth. The prince scoured all the greatest libraries in the land, but every formula he found was a failure. He sought out wisemen, witches and oracles, but none of their guidance was of any help. Then he broke into ancient tombs and temples, hoping the knowledge was buried within, but all his efforts turned to dust. In desperation, he summoned vile spirits from beyond the pale, but they only gave him dead ends and tortuous paradoxes.
"In the third year of his quest, he collapsed and died in the streets of a foreign city. His body had been so prematurely aged and warped by all the dubious concoctions and foul magicks he had encountered, he was not recognized as the prince of a nearby kingdom. The city buried him in a beggar's grave.
"The middle son was a brave warrior. He chose to go into the foothills with a band of swordsmen, to exterminate the ogres there who stole livestock and menaced the countryside. They slew a dozen ogres every week for months, but there were always more to be found elsewhere. Winter arrived, but the prince resolved to stay put in the hills until every last ogre was dead. Many of his men fell ill and died. Those who remained grew ever more relentless and efficient in their pursuit of the ogres. Just as surely, the ogres who survived grew ever more desperate and inventive, setting traps and ambushes that diminished the prince's band even further. The prince and the ogres played a deadly game of cat and mouse across the foothills for six years, living off the land and scavenging weapons and armor from each other's fallen.
"In the sixth year, the prince's band had been reduced to one man, his closest companion since childhood. All year they roamed the foothills, and all year they found no ogres. Every ogre there had either died or fled deep into the forest beyond the hills. Satisfied that he had completed his quest, the prince and his companion hiked back to the capital. They arrived in the early twilight, their faces twisted with scars and their patchwork armor streaked with mud and gore. The guards atop the city wall believed them to be ogres. Fearing for their lives, they slew the pair with crossbows and left their bodies to the wolves.
"The youngest son was a beautiful singer and accomplished poet. When the king made his pronouncement, the youngest said nothing, but went to the highest room in the tallest tower of the castle and shut himself inside. He refused to see or speak with anyone, not even the one delivering his meals. The king and the rest of the court assumed that, given his natural talents, the prince had secluded himself in order to compose an epic ballad of some sort. But no singing was ever heard coming from the tower.
"After nine years, the king had given up hope of his first or second son ever returning. His kingdom continued to flourish, but he felt himself growing older and weaker. He decided at last to visit his youngest son in the tower to hear what he had composed. Even an unfinished ballad, if brilliant enough, would be enough to secure the prince's claim on the throne.
"The prince did not unlock the door or even respond when the king requested entry. So the king had to summon servants to batter down the door. He found no prince in the room. Instead there was a great serpent, scales encrusted with jewels all the colors of the rainbow. Though the serpent bore no resemblance to his youngest son, the king saw at once that this serpent was the third child of the queen.
"He just as soon realized that his youngest son was not in fact his son. The princess he rescued had not been the prisoner of the dragon, but their lover. The queen had found a way into the deepest dungeon to visit and comfort and make love to the dragon, and likely also to plot their escape. The third prince was the child of that union, but she had suppressed her true form all her life. After locking herself in the tower, however, she transformed into the serpent, knowing that at any moment her discovery could mean exile or death. The king was deeply moved by the serpent's courage and beauty."
-.-.-
A long silence followed. Una had wrapped parts of Dana's hair in foil, for reasons he couldn't begin to guess. Now she was unwrapping the foils. But he wasn't paying that much mind. He was eager to hear the rest of the story: surely that wasn't the end? Minutes ticked by, but Una showed no sign of continuing.
"So... um, then what? The king was so impressed, he made the serpent his heir? But–"
"No. The king could not deny that she had completed a daunting quest indeed. However, his admiration was soon swept away by a wave of shame and helpless rage at his long-dead wife's infidelity. He unsheathed his sword and fell upon it. Filled with guilt and grief, the serpent fled into the countryside. With no heir apparent, the kingdom descended into years of ruinous civil war."
Dana felt a sharp twist in his gut. "Uhhhh... um, really? That's, it's not a very, um, happy story, is it?"
"That was the story of a king's hubris, and such stories are rarely happy." Una caught Dana's eye through the mirror again. "But the serpent's story hasn't been finished." She finished removing the foils and fluffed out his hair with her fingers. "So, what do you think?" She held up a handmirror so that Dana could see his head from the back.
In truth, Dana didn't know what he thought of the haircut. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. As promised, Una had taken very little length off, his hair stopping a couple inches shy of his shoulders. But she nonetheless had managed to make it look remarkably different.
The most striking change was that he now had bangs, cutting straight across his forehead perhaps an inch above his eyebrows. In addition, the rest of his hair was subtly layered. The layers added a bit of volume, but more significantly they gave the hair a certain "floaty-ness." The slightest turn of his head sent his hair swishing around, giving off the impression that it wasn't growing out of his scalp at all, but instead was floating just above him and only loosely tethered in place. And finally, the difference that the highlights made was plenty dramatic in its own right. The color she'd chosen blended quite well with his natural color. However, the new highlights often took the place of what had previously been lowlights, such that his hair looked quite a bit lighter than before, more in the range of an ash blonde now.
In his inexpert opinion, Dana felt the overall effect was rather, well, girly. The bangs in particular were something he didn't think he'd ever seen on a man, certainly not his hometown. On the other hand, what little he'd dug up about contemporary rock bands and their followers in his covert internet searches suggested that there were plenty of men sporting some very androgynous hairstyles, so maybe that was the look CeCe was aiming for. At any rate, now that he'd entrusted himself to her fashion expertise there was little to do but see things through and hope for the best.
"It ummm... it looks nice. Very, uh, sleek, I guess?"
Una nodded and smiled a small smile that gave nothing of her thoughts or feelings. "It will grow on you, I think. But, now we must tend to the face. You have good skin, we need not do much – but you must try to exfoliate more." She scrubbed and scraped at his face for a while, then applied one lotion, then another. She told him, "Close your eyes," and rubbed some things onto his eyelids. Then she told him to hold still, and started plucking away at his eyebrows. At last she stopped, smudged a little something on his lips, and said with some finality, "Okay."
Taking a good look at himself, Dana saw that Una had done much more to his face than mere moisturizing. His skin tone had been evened out by some light foundation, accented with a hint of blush. His eyes looked larger and more defined thanks to eyeliner and ice-blue eyeshadow. His brows were much thinner, and arched so as to reinforce the look of shock that his transformation elicited. His lips were now glossy and tinged with pink.
The overall look of the make-up job was subtle and understated, especially when compared to someone like CeCe. All the same, it created the distinct impression of femininity upon the onlooker. Even Dana, who of course knew better, couldn't help but feel that a rather cute girl was staring back at him from the mirror.
Clearly, there had been some kind of terrible misunderstanding. Una must have mistaken him for a girl and thought that CeCe wanted her to give him all the salon's services for women. That would explain the waxing and all the rest. Given how he'd turned out, Dana could see why Una might have made that mistake. He knew he wasn't the most manly of guys but – it was unsettling how unmistakeably girly he looked now.
All the same, there was no way he was bringing the error to the Twins' attention. That would just be beyond embarassing to explain, especially since he hadn't said anything earlier. In fact he'd prefer to leave the salon before CeCe returned: she'd surely say something and he didn't want to cause an incident. Dana would wash off his face and they could have a good laugh about it in private. At least, he hoped so. If CeCe didn't take this mistaken makeover in stride, it would become even more humiliating than it already was.
"Your nails are dry now," Otra said. He had vaguely felt her working on his hands and feet as Una told her story, but he hadn't been paying any attention. His finger- and toenails were now white with a shimmering blue glaze on top. He had to admit they were beautifully done – but men weren't supposed to have beautifully done nails.
"Go and get changed." Dana staggered to the backroom and rushed to put on his clothes, not thinking to take off the underwear Una had given him. He mumbled a quick thanks to the Twins. Una smiled, Otra nodded and waved him away. "She's already paid." Relieved, he stepped out into the mall.
Dana's relief was short-lived, however, as he soon felt quite exposed standing out in the open. Any number of people were coming this way and that: what if one of them realized he was actually a boy, and how ridiculous and wrong his current appearance was? No-one passing by seemed to give him a second glance, but Dana was sure it was only a matter of time. He wanted to go hide somewhere, the bathroom maybe, heck, even a supply closet – just then, CeCe strolled up to him.
She didn't look at all confused or shocked by his feminine appearance: if anything she looked more at ease than usual. Dana was having a harder time reading her, though, due to her puzzling decision to put on sunglasses indoors at night.
"You look fucking perf, Dee Dee! The Twins did not disappoint, right, like I told you they know their shit. Like I swear, lesser beings could work the whole fucking night and not even manage half their results. But like of course, you were killing it before, like chicks like us are fucking flawless no matter what, like 'I woke up like dis,' riiight? But like, I'm always like, why just show up when you can turn up, you feel me?"
Dana mustered something halfway between a cough and a squeak. He was almost certain he heard her say 'chicks like us,' which was fairly unambiguous. But that meant...
"So like anyway, you turned out like exactly as I was hoping, except, like, even better, haha. So I think I'm gonna go with my initial idea for your look, like that first intuition is really vital, more 'of the world,' y'know? And, obvie, feel free to talk shit out or tweak things or whatever if you're not into it, but like, hear me out." She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm thinking something like, loosely inspired by Elsa – naturally not like, medieval garb or whatever, but your hair's kinda close to hers and you've for sure a winter with coloring and shit. But, but, that's all superficial shit, right? See, I think the affinity runs deeper though, to the level of personality and even like, philosophy maybe. And any style that's like really real, like reality real, it has to mesh with all that. So like, going back to auras: I do pick up a serious Elsa vibe from you. 'Conceal, don't feel,' all that shit – but like in a good way though, no offense..."
CeCe trailed off as she noticed Dana had no idea what she was talking about. "Elsa, Frozen? The movie, Frozen? Like, have you not seen it?" Dana shook his head. "Haha, no like, that's actually really cool, you're like, a Frozen virgin! Someday soon we absolutely have to get baked off our asses and watch it, like the visuals will blow your fucking mind.
"Anyway, okay, where to start, I don't want to like, spoil the movie for you or anything. Um, so think like, an ice queen, right, but not with those negative connotations, well like, okay, actually with those connotations but like, sorta made into positives? Like, she comes off as cold and distant but it's not because she's a heartless bitch, it's like she has all this wild energy and passion that she like has to keep bottled up because like, she's afraid if she lets it loose, she'll hurt someone, y'know? But like also, the aloofness is kinda justified because she is hot shit and could like, kill you with a thought. You following?"
Dana nodded distractedly. He understood her characterization, more or less, but couldn't see how it had any connection to him. He was more concerned, however, by a realization that was, to put it lightly, unpleasant. There could be no doubt now that the Twins weren't the only ones who had mistaken him for a girl. CeCe, his one friend in this town many miles from home, the person upon whom he was abjectly dependent for the time being, believed him to be a 'chick like her.' What would she say, what would she do if he told her the truth? Or worse, if she found out on her own? It was too terrible to even contemplate.
"So like, yeah, that's Elsa in a nutshell. And like to be totally clear, I'm not saying that's like your whole deal. But it seems like a good angle to play up for your aesthetic, y'know? Like, just in terms of playing to your strengths and like, setting yourself apart. I mean you've like, got to consider the mileu a little. This city is swarming with flirty beach-bunny bitches, especially right now–"
"Beach bunny?" Dana cut in. He was only half-listening, but the phrase struck him as odd. People didn't exactly flock to Little Rock for its beaches.
"Uhhh, yeah? Like as in, bronze as fuck, not wearing much, y'know, not looking for names or numbers? I mean like, I know you haven't been before but, hello? I say Miami, you say Beach, like what were you expecting?" Dana shrugged to keep from sinking into the floor. "Well, um, anyway–"
Dana found himself laughing harder than he'd ever laughed in his life, harder than he'd seen anyone else laugh, for that matter. He couldn't stop; he was laughing so hard that he began hiccuping and laughing at the same time. The laughter eventually subsided, but the hiccups persisted.
"Ohhhh-kay there, Dee Dee," said CeCe, shaking her head and patting him on the shoulder. "You're pretty sloppy right now, huh? It's cool, like, at least you're a happy drunk! And you're not too deep in it yet, really – still walking, still talking – at this hour, a lot of the other girls probably can't say the same. But like, note to self, kind of a lightweight. Not to worry though!" She grinned and squeezed his arm. "If shopping and drunk-sitting was a combo sport, I'd take the fucking gold. Like, just lean on me if you have to."
"Lead on hic, o fearless hic leader." Dana decided he was done thinking for the night. Let the chips fall where they may. If this mess was all a bad dream, it didn't matter what he did. If it wasn't, then he'd surely manage to make things even worse – if that was even possible.
-.-.-
Dana was certain CeCe would realize her mistake when she saw that he had no breasts. But then, he didn't have anything in the way of chest hair or muscle definition either. Also the Twins had seen him topless as well and they hadn't been tipped off. But then again, he had been sure Una referenced his package when he was struggling with the underwear. Did they know or didn't they? It just didn't make any sense: another point in favor of the "bad dream" hypothesis.
His confusion only deepened when CeCe led him back to the salon and spoke with Una again. She disappeared into the backroom and returned with a small cardboard box to give to CeCe. They shook hands for the second time that night, then Dana and CeCe left.
The box held two gel pads meant to boost the apparent size of someone's chest. CeCe reassured him that there was nothing wrong or shameful about being underdeveloped, but neither was it wrong to have a little help up top, and all things being equal it would be much easier to find clothes that hung right if they used the pads. Dana silently agreed that all body shapes were equal in the eyes of God. But in his case it certainly was wrong and shameful to use the pads for trying on bras at a lingerie outlet. He kept those objections to himself, however, and CeCe instead took his embarassment to be about his small-chestedness.
Then the real fun began. Although they had a good few hours before the mall closed, there was "a lot of [stuff] to take care of" and CeCe wasn't about to waste time. She shuttled Dana from store to store as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him.
The first shop was a marvel, a shrine to denim: jeans ranging across every cut, style and color imaginable. The variety made Dana's head swim, but CeCe seemed to know exactly what she wanted, plucking a few items here, a few items there, and pressing the pile into Dana's hands. There was no wait for a dressing room; CeCe reimmersed herself in her phone as he went to try on her selections.
If Dana thought his favorite jeans were snug, then some of these were positively a second skin. The first pair he shimmied into were dyed a deep blue as iridescent as a butterfly's wing. Yet, for all the care given to its coloring, the jeans' material had been treated quite cruelly: a zig-zag of gashes ran down the outside of each leg, exposing quite a lot of skin. Dana pinched and pulled at his boxers, but there was no hiding them. Either they spilled out of the uppermost gashes or they rode up over the waistline. Rueful but resigned, he balled up his boxers and abandoned his only piece of male underwear in the corner of the dressing room.
The rest of the night proceeded in like fashion. CeCe intuited which clothes would best suit 'the new Dana' from a panoply of exotic fashions, while Dana obligingly modeled them for her, letting his already attenuated sense of masculine pride slip further and further into oblivion. Somehow, CeCe found the time to gather a considerable heap of clothing for herself as well.
Dazed, half-asleep, Dana waited by the curb with CeCe for their cab. Only his sneakers remained from his original outfit. His top was now a curious kind of blouse – it hugged tight across his (false) chest but grew looser as it neared his waist. The blouse was patterned like a tie-dye shirt except in monochrome: swirling splotches of light blue, dark blue and black over a white base. In lieu of his old jeans, Dana wore a pair of very snug jean shorts. They stopped only a couple inches past his bottom, leaving exposed almost all of his smooth, slender legs. Although he was privately uncomfortable with how much skin they showed, (and they weren't even the most revealing item among the purchases!) Dana had to admit they made the muggy night air more tolerable.
A few choice accessories completed the ensemble. On his right wrist was a single silver bangle bracelet whose twin was on CeCe's left wrist. A small diamond-encrusted crucifix hung around his neck, to match the diamond studs in his newly pierced ears. ("You were born in April so like, diamonds are like doubly, triply your gem, for sure. But like, no need to overdo it though, right?") A black leather purse was slung over his shoulder, filled with a broad-ranging jumble of 'essentials.' Dana was vaguely troubled that he wasn't sure what half the items even were.
CeCe had chosen to remain dressed mostly as she was, only removing her hoodie. Underneath she wore a tight, acid-green t-shirt with "BITCH, PLEASE." upside down and backwards. She smoked a cigarette and hummed to herself while they waited.
"Just wait and see, Dee Dee – today's been like, fucking crazy, but tomorrow'll be chill as all chill, 'kay? We've got nowhere to go, no-one to see, so we can like, just lounge, get loose, you feel me? Don't even have to leave the hotel if we don't want." She nudged Dana's shoulder. "And there's our ride."
Back at the hotel, they found a pair of porters to help carry their purchases. As they waited by the elevator, CeCe explained, "Yeah, like, they couldn't find a room under your name so like, I guess it's under someone else's – Jill maybe? – but like anyway, I figured like why even bother with all that shit, y'know? Like, I was supposed to be sharing a room with Rosie but like, she's down for the count, so I mean why not just crash at my place, right? You cool with that?" Dana murmured his assent. Ordinarily he'd be horrified at the thought of sharing a room with a girl, but right now he didn't have much choice. And he was too out of it to care about much of anything.
As it turned out, the 'room' was actually a suite, and a cavernous one at that. A projector screen, a dancefloor, a long bar snaking around the kitchen – and was that a hot tub in the corner? CeCe let out a low whistle. Dana just shook his head and made a beeline for the nearer bedroom. "G'night!" he heard CeCe call from the other room as he flopped down on the massive bed and surrendered to sleep. His fitful dreams had no hope of topping the day he'd just had.
-.-.-
That same day in Little Rock, the debate camp director experienced a rude awakening in the form of a 5 AM raid and his indictment on thirty charges of possession of child pornography. In an attempt at damage control, the administrators decided the best course of action was to cancel the camp, refund the tuition and pay for everyone's transportation home. An email explaining this decision was hastily drafted and sent to all the campers' parents.
Dr. Diamond's spam filter, much like Dr. Diamond himself, could be not unfairly described as 'overzealous.' It decided the camp's email was suspicious and blocked it from entering his inbox.
Rites of Spring Break (Part 2)
By Beryl Greenfield
Dana Diamond, a sheltered teenage homeschooler, is looking to experience "the real world" at a sleep-away debate camp. When he mistakenly boards a bus full of co-eds headed for spring break in Miami, he finds himself thrown across the gender divide and into the middle of a bacchanalia beyond his wildest imaginings.
-.-.-
This was it, Dana thought as he lay half-awake on a massive bed in an unfamiliar room. His life was over. The events of yesterday were not, as he'd so desperately hoped, the product of some awful fever-dream. Instead of boarding a bus to his debate camp in Little Rock, he had taken one going to Miami. Within half an hour of arriving, he had lost all of his money (and his painstakingly-assembled debate notes) to a mugger. Worst of all, his would-be guardian angel, Celia "CeCe" Caine, thought that he was a girl – and she had treated him to a remarkably thorough makeover!
Indeed, Dana couldn't help but dwell on how feminine his appearance had become. The hotel had installed mirrors all over his room, including one (Why?) on the ceiling above the bed. Everywhere he turned, he saw glimpses of his swishing blonde bangs, his arched eyebrows, his smudged but distinctive makeup, his shiny blue fingernails – Dana could hear in his head what his father would say if he saw Dana now, as clearly as if Dr. Diamond were really there:
"Not a word out of you, now – what I see with my own two eyes tells me all I need to know. You've thrown in your lot with the most decadent and depraved that this world has to offer. All these years I've toiled away, trying to impart the Truth of the Gospel to you, and you go and toss it by the wayside like it was trash. Someday, I pray maybe someday you will get right with God again, but until that day I will not suffer a sodomite or an invert to live under my roof. Now go."
He knew his mother would say nothing, but her look of dismay would hurt worse than anything she could say. No, there was no way Dana could go back home looking as he did now. He needed some time to make things right, get back to normal. Cut his hair, clean off the makeup and nail polish, buy some boy clothes... there was so much to do.
But, oh heck, he'd pushed it out of his mind, he didn't have any time to spare: the camp must have called his parents when he didn't show, they must be out of their minds with worry right now, maybe they'd even filed a missing persons report! He had to call home right away to let them know he's okay. What would he say? What could he say? Dana couldn't lie to them – but he couldn't tell the whole truth, either. Okay, he would say that he'd gotten lost on his way there, but he'd found a place to stay. He was safe.
Dana dug through his purse (no, this wasn't his purse, boys didn't have purses, this was just a purse that CeCe had bought for him) and spilled a heap of random junk onto the bed. At last he found the iPhone in its silvery case.
His father insisted on an old-school rotary as the sole phone in the Diamond household. He called it a demonstration of humility and austerity, but it also helped him to further restrict and monitor the family's contact with the corrupt and sinful outside world. Consequently, Dana had little experience operating modern push-button phones, to say nothing of cell phones. But after a little fiddling around, he managed to figure things out.
He dialed home. An automated message told him the number could not be reached and reminded him to include an area code. Shoot! That's right, he was calling 'long distance.' He dialed again and listened nervously to the ring tone.
"Hello, this is the Diamond residence."
"Ummm, hello Mother."
"Oh, hello Dana! I wasn't expecting you to call at this hour. How are you? How is camp? Is everything all right?"
"Uhhhhhh..." His mother didn't sound at all worried – she thought he'd made it to camp! Somehow the camp hadn't informed his parents of his absence. In that case, maybe it was best not to worry her? He didn't have to lie. He would just avoid complicating things by explaining. "Uh, um, yes, I'm fine... um, a little homesick, I guess. Um, just calling to let you know I'm okay."
"That's good to hear! Everything is just fine here as well. I hope you enjoy yourself at camp, meet some nice people. Do make sure to call if anything's the matter."
"Yes, uh, I will. Thanks, Mother. Bye, I love you."
"I love you too, Dana. Bye now."
If his parents didn't think he was missing, then that changed everything. Maybe Dana could salvage this mess after all, so that they never had to learn how terribly he'd screwed things up at first. He could call the camp and explain that he'd gotten waylaid but was on his way. Then he could still make it there for the rest of camp.
That plan would require dealing with CeCe somehow, explaining that he had to leave immediately. Dana couldn't lie to her, either – but he dreaded the thought of revealing that he wasn't who she thought he was: not a fellow undergraduate, not even a fellow woman! If only there was some way to excuse himself without going into all the embarrassing details...
He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head. He couldn't think very clearly at all: he'd woken up with a throbbing headache. Dana went to the adjoined bathroom and scrubbed off the makeup as best he could. The cold water woke him up some, but the headache persisted. Surely CeCe had some aspirin he could take?
-.-.-
Stepping out into the suite, Dana was bombarded with sensations. Broad daylight streamed in from the windows, so he had to squint at first. The smell of bacon wafted over from the kitchen space. A go-cart racing game was projected onto the wall, and cheery chiptune music piped out of the speakers. Instead of CeCe alone, three other people were with her in the suite, everyone facing away from Dana. Two were on the couch, intent on the video game. The other was kneeling on a barstool, hunched over the bar. CeCe was in the kitchen, busying herself by the stove.
"–and I mean, if Dada's already gettin' dusted then why the fuck not, y'know?" Dana caught a snatch of conversation from one of the people on the couch.
The other person on the couch said something in reply but Dana missed it. The third stranger had his full attention now: she dismounted from the stool and stretched unhurriedly, tossing back her hair and shaking out her hips. She wore a black velvet dress that hid nothing of her generous figure and black leather boots that laced all the way up to her knees. Her hair was a violent magenta falling halfway down her back.
A Bible verse, one of his father's favorites, sprang to mind for Dana. "If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell." Hell had never felt closer to Dana than it did now, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away.
"Zenon, please, you know I must take sugar with my coffee! Haven't you seen me before in the most frightful states without it? Why, I become positively anemic at times." She sniffled as if she had a terrible cold, though her silky voice showed no signs of an illness. She rolled back her shoulders and turned around.
Her face was the very picture of ease and focus. She held the world as if it were a soap bubble in her hand, something she could explode at any time. Eyelids hooded, blackened and beglittered. Lips a bruised purple, quirked: probing, examining, evaluating. Her skin was as porcelain is, flawless and brittle. Her hair wasn't half what he'd expected, being almost fully shaved into an undercut on one side.
Her eyes were her eyes. They could be no-one else's; they were hers alone to claim. They were not all that dissimilar to black holes: once you crossed a certain line, not even the speed of light could save you. She was in every way perfect.
"Look what the cat dragged in," she said, sardonic and self-satisfied.
CeCe turned and broke into a grin as she saw Dana. "You're up!"
Dana nodded, his eyes fixed right around the stranger's collarbone. Hanging right above her cleavage was a golden emblem that Dana recognized as the Rod of Asceplius, a serpent entwined around a staff. A small ruby served as the snake's eye.
"Hope you slept well," CeCe continued. "I like just got up myself, so it's not like you've missed much, like I'm just starting breakfast now. You like pancakes? We got plain, blueberry, chocolate chip–" The third stranger sniffed emphatically and cleared her throat. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to get to introductions, hold onto your fucking high horse. Girls, this is Dee Dee; Dee Dee, these are my girls. The two losers over there are Zenon, Zee for short, and Exie–"
"E-X-E!"
"–right, EXE, Exie, Ex, E – or if you prefer, 'you humongous nerd' – she'll know who you're talking to. Exie's the blue cueball over there," one of the two had an extremely short buzz cut, dyed glow-stick blue, "while Zee is–"
"The one getting her fucking ass kicked in Kart!"
"–Zee is our resident redhead." The other of the two had her curly, coppery hair piled up in a high bun. She gave Dana a quick smile and a wave before turning back to the game.
"And then like, this impossible motherfucker over here is Dahlia, or Dolly or–"
"–No, Celia my dear, you can call me Dolly because I am, after all, just your plaything, to use and abuse as you please." She blew a smirking kiss to CeCe. "But this little one – come closer dear, so that I may have a better look – this darling child should show some respect for her elders." Dana stopped a few feet away from Dahlia, barely able to breathe. Even though he was still taller in his stocking feet than she was in her boots, he felt as though she was towering over him. "Dana dear, I expect you to call me Doctor Starr, or Doctor. Doc, perhaps, once we've gotten to know each other better, mmmkay? I will consider any other form of address to be most disrepectful. Understood?"
"Yes! Um, yes Doctor Starr."
Exie guffawed. "Come off it with that 'doctor' shit, dude: you don't even have your fucking bachelor's."
"Why, Liora my dear, you are the absolute last person I'd think would pay mind to silly little things like degrees or certificates! True, I may not be 'licensed to practice' in the strictest sense. But you cannot deny I know as much or more than most M.D.'s about the intricacies of psychopharmacology. I'd say I am exceptionally well-qualified to diagnose all sorts of imbalances of the body, mind and soul."
She turned back to Dana and pressed a gleaming black nail into the middle of his chest. He noticed that the gel pads were no longer sitting evenly within his bra, and he started to sweat. "For example, I can tell at a glance that our delicate Dana here is dangerously 'deflated.' She is suffering from a dire deficiency of 'bubbly.' If left untreated, Dee Dee runs the risk of becoming irreparably dour and dull."
Dahlia turned to the bar, picked up two glasses filled with orange juice and handed one to Dana. "I prescribe eight ounces of mimosa, to be adjusted at her physician's discretion." She clinked her glass against Dana's and raised it to her lips. "A toast, then! To Dom Pérignon, a man of God, a man of Science and, at the end of the day, a man of the Good Life."
After yesterday's schnapps debacle, Dana knew he should be careful about drinks he didn't know. But all he could think about was Dahlia's cocksure smile, her entrancing gaze. In all likelihood, he would have drained a cup of hemlock had she handed it to him.
The mimosa tasted like orange juice with fizz mixed in. Dahlia downed all of hers in one go. Dana took a bigger gulp than he meant to.
"Fuuuck, like at least when you're drinking you shut the fuck up for once in a while," said CeCe, getting chuckles out of Exie and Zee.
"If you don't like the sound of my voice, Celia dearest," Dahlia shot back, "you need only gag me, you know." CeCe let out a half-strangled laugh. All of a sudden there was a lot she needed to do with the pancakes.
In the blink of an eye, Dahlia mixed another mimosa as if out of muscle memory, or magical means. Then she began roving around the suite and gesturing demonstratively. "I will take that as permission to keep running my mouth, then. 'I shall begin with our ancestors...'"
It was remarkable to Dana how smoothly she could flow from one topic to the next, from the Peloponnesian War to the cultivation of olives to the global distribution of calcareous soil to the chemical composition and creation of pearls. She moved from one topic to the next with little outside prompting; the other three seemed to be only half-listening to Dahlia, talking amongst themselves and throwing a joke or a jab her way every couple minutes.
Even though Dahlia spoke with greater precision than CeCe, she was much more difficult for Dana to understand because of the sinuous and solipsistic bent of her musings. That didn't stop him from listening with rapt attention, of course.
"Breakfast, bitches!"
Zee and Exie finished their game and gathered at the bar to eat. Dahlia, however, was still on a roll. She swept into the kitchen area and swiped some pancakes straight off the griddle. CeCe swatted her on the bottom with the spatula, eliciting a yelp. Dahlia continued pacing around, rambling on, stopping now and then to stuff her face with pancakes. Her orbit looped back through the kitchen a few times to grab more pancakes and top off Dana's mimosa.
"Don't even fuckin' bother with Dada right now, dude," Zee told Dana. "When she's on a come-up, you can't tell her shit about shit."
Breakfast proved to be an effective distraction from Dahlia. The pancakes were a slice of heaven, fluffy and buttery and full of fresh blueberries. The bacon was as crisp as it can be without burning. CeCe accepted his praise graciously, saying, "It's NBD, Dee Dee. And there's like a lot more coming, so chow the fuck down! You're skinny as shit as it is."
Exie snickered. "You're like such a mom, CeCe-TV."
"Damn straight! And if you stay out past sunrise again, young lady, I will not hesitate to ground your ass."
"Aye aye, cap'n." A pause. "We are gonna get shit rolling tonight though, right? Start cracking the packs, all that?"
CeCe pursed her lips and glanced over at Dana. "Yeah... well like, I dunno, like I was thinking we'd have more of a low-key night to start, y'know?"
"There's no time but the present, if you ask me," interjected Dahlia.
"See but I didn't ask you, Dolly."
"It is Saturday, is it not?" Dahlia continued, undeterred. "When all the pretty party people are out and about? I simply cannot conceive of a night better suited to our purposes. Why, even if we kept strictly to best practices, we could easily clear a quarter of the–"
"–Dee Dee, honey, can you do me like, a mega huge favor?" CeCe broke in. "I like totally spaced on this, um, this letter I was supposed to give to someone. Can you take it over to him right now? Please please please? He's in the hotel, like it wouldn't take long." Dana nodded. "Great!" She pulled an envelope from a bookbag sitting on the counter and handed it to him. "He should be in room 237. His name's Ricky. And like, if he's not in, just come back, okay?"
"Okay!"
-.-.-
Dana knew that she was just trying to get him out of the room so she could speak to the others in private. He didn't mind it, though: after all, he had only just met CeCe yesterday, while the other three seemed to be good friends of hers. He wasn't sure why they needed their privacy. But if CeCe didn't want him listening in, then it would be rude (not to mention ungrateful) to pry.
Also, the errand gave him time to think about his own plans for the day. Dana realized he need to call the camp as soon as possible. Somehow, either they'd neglected to note his absence yesterday or they'd failed to communicate it to his parents. But now that camp was underway, they could realize their error at any time.
The camp calling his parents now would needlessly worry them: it would also tell his mother that he hadn't been entirely truthful in their recent conversation. He hadn't told her anything untrue – it was just a little lie of omission, really. He was only trying to protect her! Still, Dana felt a pit of discomfort growing in his stomach.
"You one of CeCe's girls?" The man answering the door was shirtless and shining with sweat. He was also at least two heads taller than Dana and built like a linebacker. Even though the man looked relaxed to the point of catatonia, Dana still felt intimidated.
"Ummmm, yes?" he squeaked. "Is, um, is Ricky here?"
"In the flesh. CeCe just called, said you got something for me? A 'letter,' maybe?"
"Uh, yes, here." Dana handed him the envelope.
"I got something for her also." Ricky gave him back a much thicker envelope. If this too was a letter, Ricky sure had a lot to say. "All right then. Thanks, babe; tell CeCe I say hey. See you around. Or not."
-.-.-
When Dana returned to the suite, whatever conversation they'd been having was over. CeCe was back cooking up a storm. Exie and Zee were deep in their video game. Dahlia stared out the window while she smoked a cigarette. As he entered, Dahlia turned and gave him the oddest smile. Dana blushed and looked away.
"So, um, Ricky says hey. And uh, he gave me this, for you."
CeCe gave Dana a bracingly tight hug. "Thank you so, so much Dee Dee! You've been such a huge help. There's loads more breakfast shit on the bar now, so have at it!"
The spread was so good, Dana almost forgot he had an important question for CeCe. "Umm, I was wondering if, uh, you knew somewhere I could access the Internet? I need to, um, look some things up."
"Well like, there is your phone, for one: I got you a data plan last night, remember? Though I guess you were, like, zoning pretty hard by then, hehe. And like, using the net on a cell fucking blows anyway, right? Can't see shit. But no, yeah, my laptop's like, on the bed in my room. I'll go log in, and then you can have at it."
-.-.-
Dana spaced on the name of the camp, but a search for "little rock debate camp" turned it up. Brightheart: Tomorrow's Leaders, Today. The flashy photo montage that usually opened their homepage had been replaced with an unadorned letter. "Dear Brightheart community..."
At the end of the letter, he wasn't sure if he was more shocked at the camp being abruptly shut down or at the director being "held under suspicion of the possession of improper materials." What did that even mean? The phrase was ominous but extraordinarily vague – Dana supposed it was the sort of euphemism he would have learned to use had he attended the camp.
Whatever it meant, it meant he couldn't slip away to Little Rock. Dana either had to return home or he had to stay with CeCe and her friends. He had nowhere else to go. And he couldn't go home as he was now, but he couldn't stay here as anything else.
Dana felt stuck, then, in what some of the unsaved might liken to Limbo. According to his father, the idea of a place in the afterlife in between Heaven and Hell was a Papist deceit, spread by the "Liar of Rome" to lead people away from salvation by faith in Christ alone. Either you lived with the Love of the Lord in your heart and ascended to Heaven, or you lived devoted to sin and fell into the fires of Hell, to be tormented for all eternity. There was no 'in-between.'
Dana knew that everything his father had taught him was drawn from the Word of God Himself and so was true and right. Nonetheless, Dana knew now that there was something to the notion of Limbo. He felt torn, neither here nor there.
He had surely strayed from the simple piety of his home life. Deuteronomy 22:5 minces no words: "A woman must not put on men's clothing, and a man must not wear women's clothing. Anyone who does this is detestable in the sight of the Lord our God."
Was he therefore utterly estranged from God's love and guidance? Dana held close the Word of the Lord in his head and his heart. So long as he can still turn to Christ for succor, was he truly bound for Hell – even among all these unsaved women? (Kind, thoughtful women, but unsaved nonetheless.)
Yes, he needed to go back home, but how? And when? The very thought of shopping for men's clothes or asking for a male haircut was daunting to say the least, looking as feminine as he did. And all of that would have to come after explaining his sudden departure to CeCe. There seemed to be no way to fix his predicament without revealing himself as abominable to someone he respected.
Truth be told, Dana didn't want to leave just yet. Was that so wrong, given all the obstacles in his path? And... he had only just met Dahlia, (or Doctor Starr, rather.) But he felt certain she had something to teach him, something he couldn't learn at home. The Lord chooses peculiar instruments, does He not? Was it really so queer to want to hear what she had to say?
"So yeah dude, we're packing a kief bong, y'know, if you want in," Exie announced, breaking Dana's reverie.
"Ummm, what?"
"If you wanna smoke? Or like, get knocked off your ass, I mean – not 'smoking' in the traditional sense of the term, TBH. But whatever, right?"
"Ohhh! Oh, uhh, no, um, I don't smoke. Um, sorry?"
"Haha, no, I feel you dude: shit can get intense, for sure. Carry on then." Dana followed Exie out anyway, since he no longer had any reason to stay in CeCe's room.
Everyone was sitting on the couch in front of the projector – everyone except CeCe. She was at the bar, smoking a cigarette with one hand and drumming her fingers on the counter with the other. Dana sat a few seats down from her to avoid the smoke.
"So, like, Dee Dee... we did collectively decide to go out clubbing tonight. Um, what d'you think?"
"Umm. What do I think about, uh, clubbing?" He pictured them all brandishing cudgels – no, that couldn't be what she meant.
"Yeah, like do you like to dance? Like, there's for sure some sweet spots, like some killer DJs and shit. They're not all gross, y'know, like we know where to go where it's more chill."
Dana watched as Dahlia held her lips up to a tower of ice and drew an immense white cloud into her lungs. Her look in her eyes as she sank back into the couch and exhaled was like nothing he'd ever seen.
"Uh-huh."
"You think so? Like no, I'd love to go out with you, for sure, er, like go out to party, I mean... so if you're down, then hell yeah!"
"Buuuuuut..." drawled Zee, who had been listening to the whole exchange.
"But like, yeah... like that just means we've got some other shit to do today, right? Like, fuck, I'm not hiding Dee Dee in my fucking purse, that's for fucking sure."
"Celia dear, you won't hide hardly anyone in your fucking purse – I think it's terribly unfair." Dahlia was sprawled over the couch, eyes closed. Exie, who had been nursing the bong for some time now, broke into a tremendous coughing fit. It sounded as though she were losing pieces of lung.
"Mmmmmhm. But like, for serious: Exie, you're gonna need to move your ass in the next couple hours. Like, you are our ID guy, right? Right?"
"Uhhhh? No, yeah, yeah Ce-D-Ce, you know it! I got IDs for days, dude. Eons, even."
"Okay, cool. Great. Fucking terrific. Like, fuck, you silly fucks have just smoked yourselves senseless so like, I won't even fucking bother. Dee Dee, you maybe wanna take a walk, to talk and shit?"
"Not at the same time, one would hope." This was from Dahlia.
"She's got jokes, ladies and gentlemen!" CeCe ground out her cigarette on the bar.
"Actually just ladies, right?" Exie.
"Eh, I wouldn't say we're all ladies, dude." Zee.
"Confirmed." Dahlia.
"Yeah, yeah, you're all blazed-out bitches, my fucking mistake. Dee Dee, if you want some air, I'm heading out."
-.-.-
Dana had never seen CeCe angry in the brief time he'd known her. He wouldn't call her mood wrathful, per se – she was nothing like his father on his bad days – but seeing her usual bubbliness replaced with prickliness was worrisome.
"I mean it's like, fuck, I don't give a shit if they wanna get blasted into space, or like, if she wants to stuff a brick up her nose or whatever, right, but like they also wanna go clubbing and work the –" CeCe paused to take a long drag from her hand-rolled 'cigarette.' "– And dance all night and shit? I mean, we do need some time to prep, right, all that? It's like, fuck, it's like herding kittens who like just ate a whole fucking bag of catnip, y'know?" CeCe blew a few globes of smoke into the air without breaking stride.
"Must be frustrating?"
"Yeah, no fucking kidding! But like still, I love my girls to death, like I'd take a bullet for any of them, real talk – they're just huge pains in the ass sometimes. And like no, they're all super loyal – which is so fucking rare – and like scary smart, too." She took another sharp pull from her spliff. "When they're not faded as fuck – which like, let's be honest, isn't gonna be too fucking often these next couple of weeks. Still, they've got good instincts even when they are fucked up – and like, that's also rare as all hell."
Dana nodded and murmured and commiserated with CeCe as she kept venting. She cooled off quickly, but a cloud of concern lingered over her features. All of a sudden her eyes flashed with recognition. She stopped and tugged on Dana's arm.
"Hey, Dee Dee, that is like my favorite store ever across the street there! Let's take a look at their shit, you feel me?" He shrugged and followed her into the store. "Apoplexia" was its name. Its window display featured a mannequin version of St. Sebastian, bound to a post and shot full of arrows. Instead of Sebastian's usual loincloth, the mannequin wore a gray sarong patterned with cat eyes.
The store's interior layout took after the window display's example. All throughout were platforms where mannequins suffered exquisite torments lifted from classical myths, Dante's Inferno, and the Inquisition. The displays were so realistic – well-defined muscles on the mannequins, fake blood seeping from their wounds – that Dana couldn't help but feel a little nauseated. CeCe, on the other hand, was in heaven, darting with glee from one display to the next.
"Ohhhh my god, I like have to have this!" The garment in question resembled a military jacket that had been savaged by wolves and then patched back together with a grab-bag of cloths, furs and leathers. The mannequin had its feet encased in a glass box filled with taxidermied rats. Dana couldn't judge the jacket's aesthetics, but it managed to look quite comfortable in spite of the mannequin's plight.
CeCe soon found a jacket in her size and had it boxed up. Then she turned to Dana with a gleam in her eye.
"So yeah, there's like gotta be something in here for you, am I right?"
"Umm, sure! But, uhh, I don't know... you um, you got me enough nice things already–"
"Dee Dee, you're a sweetheart, like really, but listen to me: a girl cannot have 'enough' clothes. Sorry, but that's the law. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them, and in this case that means you're walking out of here with something cute, 'kay?"
"Okay..." Dana wanted to avoid ending up with even more women's clothing. But CeCe was just now returning to her usual cheery self – he didn't want to stress her out by arguing. And to be honest, her tone of voice didn't suggest the possibility of an argument. "Umm, maybe something small, though?"
"If you'd prefer that, then like, sure – they've got tons of dope accessories and shit."
CeCe prowled around the store with Dana trailing behind. Suddenly she stopped by a mannequin hanging upside-down by one leg.
"Oh wow, like these socks would look fucking perf with that one skirt you got, right? The gray checked one?" Dana made a noncommittal noise, looking at the mannequin out of the corner of his eye. The thigh-high socks were pure white at the bottom, but a midnight-purple dye oozed down from the top. They looked as if a glistening ichor was leaking onto them. Since the mannequin was upside-down, the ichor appeared to defy gravity by flowing upward.
The stockings were certainly disturbing, but that wasn't why Dana was reluctant to give the mannequin a good look. Apart from the thigh-highs, all the mannequin wore was some very racy black lingerie. Dana recalled CeCe buying him some underwear last night that was scarcely more modest. He struggled to push the thought out of his head, only to find it replaced with an image of Dahlia in similar attire – even worse! He felt himself stirring in a place he knew he shouldn't be.
Dana was so preoccupied with the struggle for his soul that he raised little objection to CeCe's other 'must-have' discoveries. In addition to the stockings, Dana left the store with a pair of fingerless blue-velvet gloves and a headband sporting miniature goat horns. CeCe contented herself with the jacket and a necklace with a barbed-wire pentacle.
-.-.-
Back at the suite, the other three had put up a movie on the projector. Dana and CeCe entered just as Tommy Lee Jones was chasing Harrison Ford through a sewer and over a waterfall. Dana recognized neither actor, but the tension of the scene was clear enough. Nobody said a word as Harrison Ford plunged into the churning water below. Then Dahlia began laughing uproariously, and (Dana felt) rather inappropiately. A man's life was held in the balance, no? As it turned out, Harrison Ford survived his leap of faith to face further trials.
"Alright, y'all seem a little more focused," CeCe said as the credits rolled. "So like, maybe you can resolve this issue we have with an ID, EXE?"
Exie nodded in an almost mechanical way. "You're talking to an ID expert here, TL-CeCe. Like, dude, y'all need to step the fuck back while I get to work, all right?"
Zee and CeCe exchanged a look that Dana couldn't decipher. Then Zee pulled Exie up off the couch and led her over to CeCe.
"Okay, like Zee, I think we really need you to like, calibrate the lighting and shit for Dee Dee's photo? So like, just go along and help with that, 'kay?"
Zee gave CeCe a secret smile and prodded the other two out into the hallway. She acted as a sheepdog, guiding or goading Dana and Exie over to a different hotel room. As they entered the room, she placed a reassuring hand on Dana's shoulder.
-.-.-
"Okay! Okay dude, here's how it's gonna happen: you stand by that wall next to the TV, and I'll go get my camera. Cool?"
Dana didn't have time to nod; Exie had already disappeared into another room. Zee laughed as though an anticipated amusement had exceeded her expectations. Then she led Dana over to the space Exie had indicated.
"She's off an addy from that 'bathroom break,' so just humor her, 'kay? She gets kinda wired-up, but it's no big." Dana knew Zee was trying to set him at ease, but her unnaturally blasé tone of voice only set him on edge.
"All right, Dee: look at me like I'm a dead dog." Exie was pointing an alarmingly large camera at his face. "Or a dead cat, or a bird or lizard or like whatever. Just, just look at me like the whole world seems like kind of a shit proposition, okay? Okay? Got it?"
Ever since he'd woken up, Dana had been wondering whether the world wasn't all it's made out to be. Apparently his expression satisfied Exie, because she grinned while she snapped perhaps three dozen pictures of him in quick succession.
"Yeah no, that's it, fuck! Like... fuck! You're really fucking making me feel like I'm working at the DMV here, dude – this is truly some great shit right here." Exie turned and plugged the camera into her laptop. "Yeah, like I feel like I could fucking fuck around on the rest of the ID, like all these shots are institutional as shit! Like, shit!"
"All right now, dude, let's not liken Dee Dee to an inmate or anythin', y'know?" Zee said.
"Or like, a loon, or any number of things, really–"
"–Yeah, yeah, the mind boggles: let's get this fuckin' shit pressed and printed though, right?"
"Haha, like don't even worry, dude: the file's already sent. I'm a motherfucking pro, y'know?"
Suddenly Exie fixed Dana with a dead serious gaze. "And you're straight, right – like you don't strike me as a narc, y'know?"
"Ummmmm, no? No, I'm not, uh, I'm not a, um, a narc?"
"Narc? Like, you do know the term, dude? 'Federal narcotics agent?'"
"..."
"Or like, a snitch? Fuck. Like, fuck – Dee, let me put this real fucking plainly. Have you ever seen something that wasn't, like, strictly on the level?"
"..."
"As in: 'oh my, this is something a person could get arrested for!' An activity of that sort."
"..."
"Like no, of course not. I get it: you're a good, God-fearing Christian, like I can see that. But that doesn't mean that you have to talk when you don't have to talk, right? Like I mean, 'render unto Caesar,' all that shit?"
"..."
"My understanding has always been, like – there's a world of difference between heaven and earth, right? Anyone has to admit that."
"..." Dana agreed, but Exie seemed to be taking that fact in an unusual direction.
"Like okay, okay, look: you'll have to take my word for this, but – once upon a time, I was a very sweet, very respectable Jewish girl."
"... Jewish?" Exie hadn't seemed at all Jewish to Dana. But then, her blue buzz-cut had distracted from the rest of her features.
"Yeah, haha, like I was gonna meet a nice Jewish boy at college, a future doctor or lawyer of course, and I was gonna marry him, and I was gonna give birth to a buncha brilliant, beautiful Jewish babies." Zee was smiling and shaking her head.
"Ummm..."
"And then what happened? Well, Dee, then I met Zenon, and she introduced me to her two best friends."
"CeCe and Dahlia?"
"Haha, no – good guess though. We didn't meet 'til freshman year. No, I mean Mary Jane," here Exie mimed hitting a joint, "and Sappho!" and here Exie gestured by spreading her middle and ring fingers apart and licking her tongue through the space between them. Dana wasn't familiar with the gesture, but it did seem rather lewd.
"Ummm, like the poet?"
"Yeah, yeah, Sappho was a poet, dude – and what else?"
"Um. A teacher?"
"Aaaand..."
"Um. Uh. A corrupter of youth?"
Exie snorted and glanced over at Zee. "Haha, yeah, how does that shit sound on your headstone, ZeZe? 'Hottie, genius, corrupter of youth.' Not bad, right?" Zee looked to the floor and shook her head. "No, dude, like she taught me how to fuck, y'know?"
"... ... ... ... ... So, um. You're... uh, you're um, you're... gay?"
Exie shook her bright-blue, close-cropped head in disbelief. "Uhhh, yeah? Like uh, are you that kind of Christian? 'See no evil, speak no evil?'" Zee gave Exie a hard look. "Er, I mean, like, no, like whatever dude, it's whatever, like no – like I totally see why CeCe would be down with you." Zee gave Exie a look of pure ice. "No, I mean – um, no really, it's totally like, whatever. Really."
"... ... ... Um, so CeCe–"
"–No! No actually, like: look, dude, like we did not even talk about this, all right? We never in fact discussed anything of this sort. Like, for real, if you were to talk to CeCe right now, you would not mention the words 'gay' or 'homo' or, uh – 'lesbian,' 'dyke,' 'fag,' 'queer,' and so on, like any of those. Uh, that is unless you wanted shit to get real fucking uncomfortable." Exie had quickly closed the distance between her and Dana. Her breath was hot and dry on his face.
"... Yeah um, okay, sure, of course! Of course."
"Ex gets a little chatty when she's had her candy, but it doesn't really mean anythin', y'know?" Zee said in a chilly tone.
"Um, sure... I mean, I don't even know what you're talking about." Dana truly didn't, and now seemed like the right time to admit it. If they were as close to CeCe as he thought, wouldn't she already know they were gay? And hadn't CeCe told him yesterday that she wasn't homophobic? She had seemed a little flustered by the idea, but still... Dana couldn't make head or tail of the situation.
"Great! Like, what is love, really? I mean, fuck, forget it, your ID's on its way, so let's just drop it, right?" Exie squeezed Dana's shoulder pretty darn hard.
"Hey, it's almost 6:00 now – let's fuckin' eat, right?" said Zee. Just then, Exie's phone erupted into a ringtone that Dana failed to recognize as the Nyan Cat song.
"Yello? Yeah! No yeah dude, you know it: I'm the motherfucking man. Oh? Yeah, sure, see you there." Exie hung up the phone. "Lol, you and CeCe must be 'synced up,' dude: she just asked us to meet her at the hotel restaurant."
-.-.-
The dinner was mouth-watering, but Dana had a hard time enjoying it. After that talk with Exie, he was left with no illusions about his understanding of CeCe's circle: he didn't have a frickin' clue. They had their own private history, their own slang, their own in-jokes and their own unspoken rules. He was nothing but an interloper – and given his patchy knowledge of the secular world at large, he had about as much hope as a Martian of coming to understand them. Sitting at a table full of people talking and laughing, Dana felt hopelessly alone.
Dahlia had poured him a glass of red wine from one of the bottles at the table. He didn't want to put himself even more out of place by refusing the wine, so he just sipped at it while the others finished glass after glass. His church had already given him diluted wine for Communion, so he half-convinced himself that this wasn't too big of a transgression.
A question had been nagging at Dana for some time. When the dessert arrived, (a superb chocolate tiramisu,) there was enough of a break in the conversation for him to speak up.
"So, umm, about this ID...?"
"Oh, yeah dude: I never really explained, did I?" Exie grinned, then glanced over at CeCe. She shrugged, so Exie continued. "Yeah, so it's like, how do we get one printed so quick? Well, heh, you could say 'I got a guy.' Except I don't know if it's a guy, or a girl, or like even a dog or whatever. You know about the Deep Web?" Dana shook his head. "Haha, like that's kind of the point, right? Okay." She clasped her hands together.
"Like, think of the internet as an iceberg. You've got this little part poking out the top: that's the Surface Web, the shit anyone can see, the shit being indexed by Google and shit. But like then you have this huge chunk floating underneath: that's the Deep Web. No indexing, no nothing. That's where all the real juicy shit's going down. And a shit-ton of totally boring shit too but like, shit, that's life, y'know? You gotta have a buncha coal to make diamonds, or whatever." Exie paused to take a swig of her wine.
"Okay, so like I can see you wondering: how do you find any of this shit if it's not on Google? Well, there's like a buncha different approaches, but my personal favorite is..." Exie descended into a technical discussion that was way over Dana's head. He nodded and smiled as she rattled on; the other three seemed to be doing the same, also taking the opportunity to drink more or to swipe some of Exie's neglected tiramisu.
"... and so that's how it's delivered without any, like, 'actionable' paper trail tracing back to the printer or the purchaser." Exie took a deep breath. "Pretty fucking cool, right?"
"Uhhhh, yeah, yeah, sure! But... I was actually wondering more about why I need this ID than about how we're getting it." The rest of the table chuckled, Exie excepted.
"Ohhh... really though, dude? But that's like, a much shorter explanation. Shoulda just stopped me." Nobody believed that Exie could have been stopped once she'd gotten rolling, not even Exie herself. "Well, uh, anyway–" Exie finished her glass. "–to answer your actual question, it's like fairly straightforward: the clubs wanna cover their asses."
There was a long pause, as if Exie expected that to resolve the matter. Then, seeing that Dana still did not understand, she elaborated. "Like, okay, suppose that the authorities have arrived. Some illegal shit just went down, and the po-po are there to investigate. Or maybe they just felt like showing up. And like, now suppose a sizeable percentage of the clubgoers have no ID or like, fucking shamelessly bogus ID, or else ID that suggests they should not be on the premises at all. That's gonna look pretty fucking bad, right? Like, there's no amount of money you can hand off to make that go away." Exie filled up her glass again.
Dana wasn't sure he was following. "So then... you need to get an official club ID to get in?"
"Exactly, dude, it has to be super 'official.' Like it has to be 'club certified,' so to speak. It's not getting your ass on a plane, but like, it'll pass the sniff test, and it'll come fast if you've got the right connects."
"And who is Liora, if not Little Miss Connects?" Dahlia mused. "Why, they should call you 'Connect Wh–'" She was stifled by CeCe's hand over her mouth.
"You should chill on the wine for a while, don't you think, Dolly?"
Dahlia pouted theatrically, then nodded. "I do believe this one was something of an off-year for Bournogne, anyway." The rest of the dinner passed in relative quiet.
-.-.-
"If we're gonna go out tonight, we're doing it right, all right?" CeCe lit up a spliff as soon as she stepped in the suite. "By which I mean, doing it big, y'know? Like I know y'all are fierce as fuck every night of the fucking week, but like, I mean battlegear here, you feel me?"
"Loud and clear, CeCe," said Zee. Dahlia threw a mock salute. Exie just shrugged.
"'Kay, leave your bags with me, go get your shit sorted then head back here, right?" The three handed over their purses (or backpack, in Exie's case,) and left the suite. CeCe took the bags into her room.
"All right, Dee Dee, let's fucking do this thing!" She all but flew from her door over to where Dana was standing. Somehow she managed to finish, ash and dispose of her spliff in a baggie while in transit.
"Ummm, what thing?"
"Like, getting dressed to go out? I mean like, hehe, we didn't buy all that shit just to look at it, y'know?" CeCe took him by the arm and led him into his bedroom. Then she pulled open the walk-in closet where his wardrobe was stored.
"Ohh, of course, but um... isn't what I'm wearing now okay?" Dana knew that people got dressed up to go to parties and such, and he imagined 'clubbing' was much the same. But he was more than a little nervous about what CeCe might pull out of that closet.
"Dee Dee, honey, like no of course you look super cute as is, but like... okay, as your self-appointed stylist, it falls upon me to explain." She lit up another spliff; Dana didn't have the faintest clue where she'd pulled it from. "You can't wear just anything clubbing, right, like it's a different scene en-fucking-tirely than just wherever. If you don't come correct, you get wrecked, y'know? Or like, worst case is you don't even get in the fucking door."
Dana looked a little stricken, so CeCe put a hand on his shoulder. "But like no, if you and the club have an understanding, then like that's never a problem. And we do, so like don't even worry about that, Dee Dee. My point is, almost everyone else in the club did have to stand in line, knowing that they could get turned away. So like, everyone's game is turnt up way past maximum, y'know? Which means, if you wanna look like you fucking belong there, your style's gotta be lethal, you feel me? Like, 'the fuck is a warning shot, bitch?' That kinda look, right?"
Dana was losing track of her again. You had to dress intimidatingly stylish, was that it? He doubted he could intimidate a grade-schooler, to say nothing of a club full of ultra-hip people. CeCe did not seem concerned. "Look, Dee Dee, just chill, it's all gonna come together great. With all the sharp shit we got and your killer looks, like you're gonna be a motherfucking monster out there, trust me." She smiled at him, the same beatific grin that had set him so at ease when they'd first met on the bus. It didn't quite quell his worries now, but he felt compelled to smile back.
"All right, like my first instinct is we go in on one of the throwback dresses, y'know?" CeCe was on the hunt, pawing through the closet. She was also smoking her third or fourth spliff; Dana was starting to feel a little woozy from all the secondhand smoke. "Like, this one here would look fucking perf for a psycho-Lolita look, but like, at least for tonight we can't go that route."
She gave Dana's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't take this wrong way, Dee Dee, but like we're gonna need to bust our asses to age you up some, y'know? Like, again, the clubs will all know us so it's NBD, like really, don't worry, but like – if you don't even look legal, that kinda brings us some unwanted attention, you feel me?" CeCe took a long drag from her spliff, then looked Dana straight in the eye. "And like, it's not like I'm going to make this a thing or anything, but if you want to level with me, great. Dee Dee, are you eighteen?"
Dana was not. A couple months ago he'd reached his "Sweet Sixteen," though at the moment it was turning out to be anything but. "Ummmmmmm... no?" he whispered. He felt himself tearing up – this was the closest he'd come to admitting that he wasn't at all who she thought he was.
"Shhhh, shhh, honey it's okay," CeCe said, gently rubbing the back of his head. "I don't think any less of you just because you're a little younger, y'know? You're still like, really cool and really smart and all, okay Dee Dee? It's so not even a thing to me. Okay?"
Dana sniffled and nodded. He felt a little better, even though he knew she wouldn't be anywhere near as understanding if she found out he was also male.
"Like, that being said though, let's make one thing clear, 'kay?" CeCe gave him a kind but firm look. "I don't want to mom on you, but like, I'm gonna mom on you for this one thing: don't go chasing after boys tonight, all right?" Dana almost laughed aloud; chasing after boys was the absolute last thing on his mind. "I mean it! This is so not my joking face here." CeCe ditched her spliff and took hold of Dana by both shoulders. "Look: you remember last night, I swore I wouldn't let anyone hurt you? I was not fucking around then, Dee Dee. I will join my mother in the cold-fucking-ground before I see that happen to you. D'you see where I'm coming from now?"
Dana nodded, feeling terribly torn. On the one hand, he was moved far more than he could say that she would value his life before her own. On the other, did he even deserve such protection? She hardly knew him! And almost everything she thought she knew about him was a falsehood he hadn't had the courage to correct. He wasn't cool, or smart, or even a girl – he was just some stupid kid who had taken the wrong bus. If CeCe knew who he really was, she would turn him away in an instant. But so long as she didn't know, he knew he had nothing to say against what she felt.
"Okay then, we're understood. Like okay, I'm not saying don't dance, or don't have fun or whatever, but just like – keep it casual, y'know? Like the clubs are so not the place to be looking for like, an 'all right' guy, right? But also like, on the flip side of that – if a guy is creeping on you, come to me immediately. I will blow his fucking balls off." A pause. "Again, no jokes. I don't do jokes. And I mean, I'll be looking out for you anyway but like, please, you need to let me know when something's shady, okay?" She paused, then grinned. "Enough heavy shit though, right? Let's get you looking fucking fatal, you feel me?"
Dana had a boatload of feelings floating around, but chief among them was pleasing CeCe. If she liked how he looked, wouldn't that go a little ways toward repaying her for taking him under her wing? He would have to disillusion her soon enough, but maybe he could make her happy for just one night? (The smallest, worst part of him was curious to know how he might turn out. But of course, that played no role whatsoever in his decision to go along with her.)
-.-.-
"I think this might be the one." After five minutes of browsing the closet, after several dresses already considered and discarded, CeCe thought she had the one. 'The one' was a take-off on the archetypal '50s housewife dress. It was collared and polka-dotted, with buttons down the front and a flared skirt.
There the similarities ended, however. The dress was the murky, menacing blue of an ocean trench, polka-dotted black. The polka dots themselves appeared normal toward the middle of the dress, but the pattern started to glitch as it approached the hem and the neckline, fuzzing and smearing across the dress like a television set losing its signal. Nearing the edge, the very fabric of the dress began to dissolve, fraying from a solid cotton into a tangled lace, and from there into a ragged fringe of sheer muslin. It was as though the dress was being eaten alive from the outside.
"Um, okay?" Dana took the dress from CeCe and headed for the bathroom.
"Cool, but like, you don't have to go anywhere, right?" CeCe said, the slightest edge to her voice. "Like I mean, we're both chicks and we are both straight, so like we don't have make it weird if we see each other, y'know?" Oh no, Dana had completely forgotten! He was acting as though he were a heterosexual man with a heterosexual woman, as though he needed to guard both his dignity and her modesty. But as things stood between them, they were both heterosexual women. So in fact it was as natural as anything for them to change in front of each other. Even so... he wasn't sure he could keep up the pretense in such proximity.
"But wait, like... no, I mean it's whatever, right, like I don't give a shit! I was just saying you don't have to walk all that way, y'know, that's all I was saying. I mean, whatever, right?" CeCe had started by gesturing with emphasis, but she cooled off towards the end. Then she picked up again. "Ohhh, fuck, like I mean, of course – if you're self-conscious about your body or like, your–" here CeCe made a cupping gesture in front of her chest, to symbolize breasts. "–then like, don't be, honey! Like you're still super hot, right? I mean, hahaha, that's just my totally fucking disinterested straight girl assessment but like, yeahhh, any guy would be lucky to have you, y'know?" She blinked, chewed her bottom lip and continued. "Though like, not tonight, remember? No guys are getting at you 'cause like, that's gonna end up totally terrible, you hear me?"
Dana nodded. CeCe seemed to be getting a little agitated over this whole issue, so perhaps it would best if he did change in front of her. But if she noticed his, um, his thing, then it would be all over. What was he to do?
"Umm, yeah, no, uh, like it's no problem! But ummm, I do have to go use the bathroom, okay?"
"Oh! Yeah, sure, sure."
Dana left the dress on his bed and headed into the bathroom. He truly did have to pee, so he relieved himself. Now, he had a little work to do.
Okay, if he pulled his stuff all the way back like this, and pulled his underwear from the Twins all the way up like this, how did that look? Flat in front, good, good, and in back... um, not exactly right, but CeCe wouldn't be looking too close, would she? He didn't know how to do any better, so he pulled up his shorts and stepped out into the bedroom.
CeCe now had a glass of cranberry juice in one hand and yet another spliff in the other. "All right, Dee Dee, here's the thing – we should get your stuff sorted, um, up top, before we see how it looks, all right?" Dana looked at her blankly. "Yeah, like, all I'm saying is, um, like... if we want you looking legit, like as in, uh, legal, y'know, then like, ideally we want to show a little happening, um, up there, that's all." Dana looked at her blankly. "Okay, like: can we tape up your tits, is what I'm asking?"
"Ummmmm..." Dana looked at her blankly.
Dana had no idea that his boyish (read: soft) pectoral muscles could be drawn together to form something approaching a woman's cleavage. Then again, he had no idea he could be mistaken for a college girl and dragged into a drugged-out vacation, but that seemed to have happened despite all his expectations.
The dress fit him well, once the tape was secure and the gel pads were smooshed into place. Dana almost didn't recognize himself even as he was reflected through about a dozen mirrors. Was that him? 'Him' almost didn't make sense in this context. But in that case – well, no time to consider that now.
"I like think we have a winner!" CeCe had a look of absolute satisfaction on her face, one that Dana had rarely seen as of late. "There's like a lot more to do but like, we're definitely on the right fucking track, y'know?" It was all Dana could do to nod; CeCe was on her sixth or seventh spliff and her third glass of cranberry and vodka. He had the most remarkable headache.
"All right, like we should shower, then!" CeCe said. "Ummm, I mean like, you should shower, and like I'll go take care of my own shit or whatever."
Dana nodded. He hadn't showered all day, somehow: he was honestly disgusting, if he thought about it at all. All the smoke that had soaked into his skin wasn't helping matters. And he felt most peculiar in this dress. It would be easier to have it off for a while.
-.-.-
"Okay great, like just let your hair air-dry or whatever," CeCe said after wrangling his 'breasts' into place for the second time. "Okay, so like I left the tights and the shoes on the bed. The MJ's are really low, like two inches, so you'll be fine. Oh and um, Zenon'll come through soon to do make-up, and like, she is a fucking master – like, for real, like she's Michelangelo and your face is the Sistine Chapel, right? She will take it to that level, see if she doesn't. ...Ummm, no though, not to freak you out or anything, Dee Dee, just... let her work, y'know? She cannot underwhelm you."
-.-.-
"All right, I conferred with CeCe and I think we have it sorted," Zee said as she laid her palette out on the counter. "The guidin' light here is 'impersonal.' Imagine you've met an android, maybe a cyborg, y'know, some kind of human-robot amalgam. And this robot is super expressive by design, right, but due to the limits of technology they're also real stiff and eerie, y'know? So you can't tell from their expression whether they're a good robot there to serve your every whim, or a bad robot waitin' for you to let down your guard before they fuckin' end you. Basic 'Blade Runner' shit here. But the point beyond that is this: you don't even care if they're good or bad, you're too fascinated by this 'impersonal personality' on display, this person coated in impersonality – it's a persona that's foregroundin' the very act of impersonation, y'know?"
Dana had never heard Zenon speak more than two sentences at a stretch, so this geyser of words took him by surprise. He thought he understood the content of her words well enough: the purpose behind them, however, was way beyond his grasp.
"So then you're, um, making me up as a potentially killer robot?"
"Look at this way: anyone you've ever met could be holdin' a deadly grudge against you, right? So we're just bringin' that all-too-human reality to the surface with this face. And when you mix the self-cannibalizin' housewife motif into the equation, then we start to look toward a tragicomic readin' of the heteronormative script, and we start, uhh – I mean, fuck, you don't want to hear all this theory shit. I'll just sum it up, then? We're embracin' the inanimate, or rather the receptive, or rather, um, the tension between the 'settled' space of the make-up and the 'unsettled' space of the face. The powder stays in place or it doesn't, but the face is always already mobile, as in mobilizin' against itself. We're recognizin' the perpetual self-effacement of the face, you feel me?" She let out a sharp breath. "I mean, fuck it, forget it. I'm no good at explainin' myself."
Dana felt he was following the 'what' of her words. But the 'how' and 'why' still remained elusive. How was she translating all of that into the products she applied to his face? And why was that the appropriate theme for his make-up? And also, actually: what in good grace was the heteronormative script? Dana thought back to Una and her peculiar fairy tale. He concluded that cosmeticians were a curious breed, far beyond his comprehension.
"All right, gold." Zee appeared satisfied with Dana's face.
Dana stepped up to one of the room's many mirrors to get a better look. He supposed he saw how the make-up followed from all that abstract talk earlier. The impression it left on the viewer was certainly one of 'impersonality.' The foundation was very even and flat, with just a touch of plasticky sheen to it. The blush was flashy but unconvincing, trying and failing to inject warmth into an unfeeling surface. Similarly, the contouring around his cheeks and temples aimed to accentuate the humanity of his bone structure. But instead his face appeared hollow, as if it had pressed out of a mold. His eyes were sharply defined by a deep blue eyeshadow close to the color of the dress. The strategic application of white eyeliner helped to make his eyes 'pop,' quite literally – they looked as though they could be popped in and out of his sockets at will.
The overall feel of his face was very 'Uncanny Valley.' Dana resembled a sultry sexbot who might or might not be programmed with femme fatale protocols. His natural facial expressions were as genuine and open as ever, but that only served to heighten the viewer's sense of ambivalence. Dana felt a heady mixture of attraction and repulsion as he stared at his reflection.
"Okay... um, thanks?"
"Later, then." Zee was already ready to go out, Dana realized, with her darkly distinguished mouth and her iron throne of a dress.
All Dana had left was to don the tights and the shoes. Like the rest of his ensemble, the tights were unusual, though in a more understated way. They were transparent, so his legs looked almost bare. But they were shot through with a pattern of hairline cracks. His legs seemed to be threatening to shatter, like they could crumble to dust at any moment. It was a little touch and go pulling them on, but he'd gotten some practice last night. If he could do it sloshed beyond belief, he could do it (mostly) sober.
Dana wouldn't say he felt 'drunk' exactly. He'd had hardly a half glass of wine at dinner. But he couldn't say he felt altogether himself, either. Dana had dismissed it earlier as a headache from the smoke, but it was much more than that. He felt more alert, not in the sense of having more energy or focus, (as he did with caffeine,) but rather of being tuned into features of his environment that had escaped his notice before. Cross-sections of fabric patterns, the negative space between two pieces of furniture, the hollow of an abandoned glass: all these scenes had been before his eyes the whole time, but he had never paid them any mind. Now they felt essential to him.
The shoes were gleaming black Mary Janes with a silver buckle. With two-inch heels, they were reasonable by comparison to many other shoes, but that was little consolation to Dana. He was sure he'd soon fall and make a fool of himself. And what if he actually did adjust to the heels – wouldn't that be the final emasculating nail in the coffin of his manhood?
Even standing alone in his room, Dana could feel the heels changing the way he related to his body, shifting his center of gravity and altering his posture. Dressing like a woman was one thing, but holding himself like one and walking like one was another thing entirely. Could he ever get back to the way his life used to be? No, no, of course he could: none of this really meant anything. This outfit was just a surface appearance, after all; he was still a man underneath, right? (But what if the man that he'd thought he was was just a surface appearance as well, and what if nothing lay underneath? Woah.)
Surface appearance or no, it was undeniably effective. There was no trace of his former self in his reflection. Nothing hinting at masculinity, for one. He had also been 'aged up' rather well. The casual observer would suppose him to be at least eighteen or nineteen, though probably no older. "Dee Dee" was a youthful-looking late teen, trying for twenty-one but not quite getting there – but also trying for sexy and passing with flying colors.
The dress was not outrageously revealing, nor was it flaunting his curves. (Apart from his false chest, he didn't have any.) Its allure was due to its suggestiveness. Only a sliver of cleavage rose entirely over the neckline, but a good amount more was only half-concealed by the outer ring of irregular lace. The same principle held for his legs: the entire hem reached down to his knees, but the edge of the solid cotton stopped four inches farther up his thighs. Even more tantalizing was the dynamism created by the transition from cotton to lace to muslin. One could easily imagine that process continuing, the material dissolving from the outside-in until it was more a negligee than a dress, or until it disappeared all together.
Likewise, his make-up relied upon its ambiguous proposal to the viewer: Dee Dee might or might not be looking to snap your neck, but you were all but guaranteed a good time before that happened. And wouldn't it prove all the more satisfying if she had in fact been biding her time all the while, just waiting to seize the moment and your neck? In reality, of course Dana was as docile as a lamb, (a lamb with a contact high, at that,) but the onlooker had no reason to reach that conclusion.
All told, his ensemble took elements that were chaste and wholesome (the domesticity of the Stepford dress, the blandness of androids, Dana's chastity and wholesomeness) and twisted them into anything but. The outfit was less foward than many he would see throughout the night, but its intentions were clear enough all the same.
Dana could think of more than a few words that his father had for women dressed in a similar fashion, none of them pleasant.
But Dana hardly thought of his father. He was more concerned about the words that the others might have for him. Well, the words of one in particular: Dahli– Doctor. (Dana sensed he wasn't on familiar enough terms to call her Doc just yet.) How would she take his new look? Would she even notice him at all, or ignore him as she'd done for most of the day? What would he say to her? What if she asked him to dance? (People did that at parties, right?) He didn't know how to dance! And wearing these gosh-darned heels, he was sure to fall on his face as soon as he tried. Maybe they could just... stand near each other, instead?
-.-.-
When Dana finally mustered up the courage to come out, he found the others standing together on the suite's dancefloor. A large circle had been chalked onto the floor, circumscribing a five-pointed star. CeCe and the others each stood just inside the circle at one of the star's points.
Exie whistled. "Damn, dude. Killing it."
Dahlia gave him one of her cryptic smiles. "Indeed. Our dear demure Dee Dee looks quite the daredevil now." Dana shivered. Her smile was the absolute best he'd ever seen. Hands down, hers took the gold, no question.
Dahlia was a vision. A black latex dress clung to her body as though a machine had sealed it onto her. Her heels were impossible. Five or six inch stilettos? Standing in his Mary Janes, his knees felt weak just looking at them. Her face was a placid mask. Her eyes betrayed her intense focus, but the rest of her features suggested complete vacuity. It was an unsettling combination.
"Um, so what is all this?"
"Oh, Dana dear, this is just a lovely little team-building exercise our Celia likes to lead us through. Perfectly innocent, I assure you." Dahlia's face revealed nothing. Her eyes promised everything.
"Fuck, like if you're gonna sass me, Dolly, can it at least wait until after?" A pause. "See, Dee Dee, it's like this: I've got this quick, uh, this quick ritual I do before we go out, like, just to help keep us safe, y'know?"
"... ... Ritual? Um, like–"
"–She's a witch, dude." CeCe shot a sharp look over at Exie. "What? It's true!"
"She's a good witch though, Dana," Zee explained. "Only healin' and protection spells, none of that hexin' stuff."
"She has the only hex she'll ever need on her hip." Dahlia had a way of muttering that was easily understood by everyone in earshot.
"Dolly, hush!"
"Here's how I look at it, dude," Exie said, beckoning Dana closer. "If your Book's right, then this is all like a buncha bullshit and can't harm anything, right? And like, Jesus will be waiting to swoop down and drag your ass up to Heaven either way. But if there is something to all this Earth Mother shit, then like maybe you saved your ass big-time by going along with it. You feel me?"
"Pascal's Wager for witchcraft, essentially," Dahlia put in.
"Ummmm..."
The rest of the group had linked hands with each other. The point of the star where Dana was meant to step in was between Exie, linked with Zee, and Dahlia, linked with CeCe.
Was Dana going to pass on holding hands with Dahlia, no matter how blasphemous the occasion? No chance in hell.
-.-.-
CeCe beamed at him as he joined the circle. Then she began to recite a lengthy Latin passage from memory. Dana recognized it as Latin from his studies, but he couldn't translate it. His father had forbidden his mother from teaching him Latin, since it was almost exclusively the domain of pagans and Papists. He had however been given a good deal of Greek to aid in his Bible studies.
Dana's thoughts drifted over to the witch of the Odyssey, Circe. As the host and captor of the waylaid voyager Odysseus, she did everything in her power to lure him away from fealty to his wife and home life, without success. Of course, the comparison was silly – who could mistake CeCe for Circe? Although.... CeCe had twisted her bob into two blunt braids on either side of her head. So both CeCe and Circe could be fairly called "the nymph with lovely braids."
'Nymph' was perhaps pushing it for CeCe, now that he thought about it. She was no doubt captivating, but 'nymph' suggested a vulnerability that just wasn't there. CeCe was wearing the patchwork jacket she'd found at Apoplexia over a sleek black dress. A slit ran up most of one leg, the top of it obscured by the length of the jacket. She wore dark purple combat boots over torn-to-[frick] fishnets. Three chunky chains hung around her neck: one was the barbed wire pentacle, another was a silver triangle and the last was a golden circle. Her make-up was severe: a deathly pallor, heavy rims of black around her eyes and a lipstick the color of coagulating blood. Despite all the morbid signifiers, CeCe's face was so animated that there could be no doubt she was very much alive and ready to [mess stuff up.]
She wrapped up the recitation, nodded, and dropped her hands from Zee and Dahlia. The others did the same. What had all that been about, anyway? Dana looked closer at the center of the circle. Five crystals were gathered at the center, bound together by twine (or was that hair? Couldn't be.) They were each a different color: green, black, white, blue and red. How odd. However, as Exie had reminded him, it meant nothing in the end: no miracles could be performed without God's intervention.
Yet Dana couldn't deny that he'd felt a slight charge run through his body as CeCe finished with her ritual. He felt closer to the others, more 'in sync' somehow – that had to be just a trick of psychology, however.
CeCe looked over at Dana and smiled. "Yeah, um... like if you wanted to say a prayer or something, like ask Jesus to keep an eye out or whatever, that'd be totally fine too."
"Oh, umm, no... I don't make requests of God through prayer. My fath– erm, and that is because it's arrogant to presume to know how things should turn out. God's Will ensures that we live in the best of all possible worlds."
"Mmm, yes, that is a classic line of reasoning," Dahlia said, her eyes flashing with interest. "But are you familiar with Russell's critique of Leibniz, on the grounds of–"
"–Dada, are you fuckin' serious right now?" Zee cut her off. "We are not gettin' into a fuckin' theological debate: this is spring break, right, we're supposed to be havin' fun!"
"Oh, I find theological debates to be tremendous fun, Ze–"
"–Yeah but like, if you'd think about literally anybody besides yourself for once in your life, dude," Exie broke in, "there's fucking clearly a net loss on fun here."
"Sure, if you're using a crude utilitarian calc–"
"–Dolly. Shut. The fuck. Up." A pause. "Thank you. Then, if we're done here, I'd like to say a few words before we roll out." Another pause. "First off: for fuck's sake, pace yourselves. Like, there's loads of time to get blasted after you've seen who you have to see or whatever. And that goes for all of you but like, Dolly?" CeCe's eyes bored into the side of Dahlia's head. "Cuffs are like so not a cute look in this context, you feel me?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Dahlia's expression was indeciperable.
"Second, trust your fucking instincts. If you think something's shady, it's shady. Do not hesistate to come to me or text me, clear? Tonight's more low-key than usual, but like, that doesn't mean don't be careful."
"This ain't our first fucking run around the block, y'know, CeCe-CP?"
"But it bears repeating." A pause. "All right, that's all then. Let's fucking tear this city's shit apart."
-.-.-
Dana knew about limousines in the abstract, but he never expected to ride in one. He certainly never expected to ride in one sitting next to the most beautiful woman he'd ever met or hoped to meet. Doctor sat on one side between CeCe and Dana; Zee and Exie sat on the other. It was oddly quiet in the car, considering all the fuss earlier.
"Ohh, fuck dude, I almost forgot! This is for you." Exie pulled a small envelope from her backpack and handed it to Dana. Inside was an ID card with his face (well, Dee Dee's face) on it. The card resembled a New York driver's license. It gave his name as "Mary M. Davidson," his age as 21, his sex as "F," and his address as in some town he'd never heard of. All the other information was remarkably spot-on, given that Exie hadn't measured or weighed him.
"Ummmmm..." Dana now understood why Exie had been grilling him earlier: though the ID looked legitimate, it was a fake through and through – and that was wrong!
Then again, the same could be said of Dana himself right now. But, no, this was different: the ID was illegal! He was just, um, he was just "detestable in the sight of the Lord." Not to mention the source of utter shame and disgrace to his father and mother, should they ever find out about all this. The fake ID was starting to pale in comparison, the more he thought about it. Dana wanted nothing more than to stop thinking about it, but he couldn't. He was stuck in a spiral, imagining all the disgusted reactions of his parents, of people at his church, of people he didn't even know but had read about in books. He was a massive fraud and it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down on his head–
Dahlia put her hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Relax, Dana dear. You look great. No-one is going to question you."
All his stress and fear and worry drained away, as if she'd opened a valve in the back of his head. She thought he looked great? And no-one was going to question him? She really thought he looked great?
"Ummm, th-thank you." A pause. "Uhh, y-you look great t-t-too, umm, D-Doctor."
A small smile. "Thank you, dear."
"Yeah, so like, put it in your wallet and forget about it," Exie said. "Tonight most of the clubs probly won't even ask for it."
"Ah, and like we're here!"
-.-.-
Dana wondered if there was an adjective for something so gaudy that it wrapped back around and became classy again. He could think of no better descriptor for the club. It was a black building rimmed with fountains and decorative columns, with a massive slab of neon stacked on top. Four people who radiated wealth were the only others at this entrance. Dana saw there was another entrance farther down the street with a long queue in front of it.
The group ahead of them was escorted into the building by a flashily-dressed man. CeCe identified herself to the bouncer, showing him her driver's license. (Also a fake? Dana wasn't sure he wanted to know.) Finding her on the list, the bouncer nodded and waved them through. They were in.
Dana was in shock. If the exterior had been over-the-top, the interior was full-blown sensory overload. The club was cavernous, streaked with neon on every possible surface and filled to the brim with people dancing like their lives were at stake. Perhaps that wasn't far from the truth: the bass blasts shaking his bones felt life-threatening enough to Dana.
"Wild, huh?" CeCe spoke into his ear. "So like, you wanna go dance? Or um, like maybe just take it all in for a while?"
"Ummm, I don't want to dance, uh, right now." Dana had avoided any mishaps in his heels by walking slowly, but he didn't want to push his luck. He still might have considered dancing if Doctor Starr was nearby. But she, Exie and Zee had already disappeared into the crowds.
"Yeah no, like I'm not really there yet myself. I was gonna just chill at our table, okay?"
"Uhh, all right?"
Dana followed her up some stairs to a roped-off section overlooking the main dancefloor. CeCe flashed her ID at a second bouncer and swept past without waiting for him to confirm her identity. There was a good handful of open tables, but CeCe knew the one she wanted and made a beeline for it.
"What do you want to drink?" There were several bottles of alcohol chilling on ice on the table, as well as a cooler on the floor. CeCe poured herself a gin and tonic.
"Ohhh, um, I don't – I mean, I don't feel like drinking tonight, um... sorry?" He was going to say he didn't drink. But after the wine, the mimosa and the schnapps, CeCe would know that to be false.
"No, like I get it, Dee Dee, you did go pretty hard last night! You want a Coke or something, then? Like when I'm taking a break, I just sip on a chaser, no-one can tell the fucking difference, right?"
"Um... sure!"
Dana wasn't sure what you were supposed to do in a club if you weren't dancing. If CeCe and the other people in the VIP section were any indication, the answer was sit, drink and look out upon the people who were dancing. Conversation was hindered by having to shout everything you said, but some of the other tables were trying their best. Several groups of more or less inebriated men came by their table to make a pass, but CeCe had perfected a look that turned away even the most booze-befogged among them.
All except one, anyway. A man who could barely keep upright asked if he could watch while CeCe and Dana made out. She stood up and gave him a small but sincere shove on his shoulders. His friends decided to lead him back to their own table.
"Ughh, it's like always the same fucking shit with guys, like – if you're two chicks who don't want to hang with their sloppy asses, it like must be because you're huge homos, even if you're so obviously not, right?"
Dana nodded, feeling a little uneasy. He had told CeCe he wasn't gay, which was surely true. But he had no interest in men, and he was very much attracted to women. If you believed, (as CeCe did,) that he too was a woman, then that orientation would in fact qualify him as a 'huge homo.' But it wasn't like that, was it? He'd lived his whole life dedicated to the Word of God. Dana had no idea how he would even begin to explain all of this mess to CeCe.
Apart from the noise and the neon, this club was the perfect venue for people-watching, Dana realized. There was always someone new, some little scene to pick out of the writhing mass of bodies. While the view as a whole was chaotic, it was all unified in a different sense by the insistent thump of the beat.
Dana wouldn't have believed it when he first entered the club, but he started to feel numbed, aloof, almost lulled into a trance by all the over-stimulation. The world around him no longer registered as a series of moments filled with a set of objects; it all began to blur. One song flowed into the next, one arrangement of colors and shapes flowed into the next: there was nothing definite to single out any one part of the flow. It was almost peaceful, not despite but because of the great blooming, buzzing confusion before him.
-.-.-
All of a sudden Dahlia, Zee and Exie were at the table.
"We're cool?" CeCe asked. "No problems? All right, let's roll out then."
They were leaving the club already? It hadn't felt to Dana like they'd been there very long. Then again, he'd sort of lost track of time. Were they were going back to the hotel now?
No, now they were going to the next club. Dana wasn't sure what he'd expected when it came to "clubbing," but it wasn't this. The same routine was carried out at the next club: Dahlia, Exie and Zee dispersed into the crowds immediately, while CeCe sat with Dana in the VIP section and surveyed the scene. In under an hour, they were leaving the second club and onto the third. That process was repeated two more times – at each club they left two or three bottles of expensive liquor completely untouched. After the fourth club, CeCe decided they should head back to the hotel to freshen up. She and Dana weren't in need of any freshening, but the rest were a little worse for wear.
Back in their hotel room, Dana asked why they were rotating through these different clubs so quickly. CeCe explained that when the group felt like a club was "dead," it was time to move on. Dana asked what made a club "dead" but he couldn't follow CeCe's answer.
"Anyway, like with this last club we're for sure done driving around," CeCe added. "This place is always live as fuck, and the DJ tonight is like, absolutely bonkers. She's like savage, wild, I mean like axe-murderer levels of insanity here, you feel me?" Dana nodded, resisting the impulse to gulp.
"Oh, like a couple things before we go, right: these will like make dancing a little easier than in the MJ's." CeCe had a pair of black flats for him to put on. "And this will make dealing with guys a little easier." She slipped a ring onto his left ring finger. Dana's eyes widened over the size of the rock: it dwarfed the ones in his crucifix and studs. "Like, guys'll still try and shit, but if you wave this in their face most of 'em should fuck off."
"Umm... it's so big?"
"Haha, like yeah? It's supposed to catch the eye, like to convince guys they don't have a fucking chance with you. Oh! But like, it's zirconium, Dee Dee, it's like actually super cheap, so like don't even worry if you lose it or whatever. Just a decoy, right?" She gave his arm a squeeze.
-.-.-
Zee had changed both her dress and her shoes, Dahlia just her shoes and Exie, as best Dana could tell, had only put on sunglasses. No, she also carried a different bag, as did the other two. Her demeanor was different, too – making excited gestures, talking Zee's ear off. Zee for her part had gone the other direction. She moved little, spoke little, did little except nod. She had a smile on her face as if the whole world was giving her a hug.
Dana always had a hard time reading Doctor Starr. Now that she too had donned sunglasses, it was all but impossible to figure her out. She said nothing. Dana swore he heard her grinding her teeth, however. Was she angry, anxious maybe? Why?
The night's final club startled Dana by how subdued it looked. A stark fluorescent sign hung over the entrance. If not for that, the building could be mistaken for any old warehouse. Well, the waves of bass coming from within were also a tip-off.
The clubgoers in the queue more than off-set the club's drabness. People at the previous clubs had been well-dressed, but in a generically wealthy way. The people here were less wealthy but more resourceful. Or perhaps they were just as wealthy as those others, but they had adopted a style that appeared less wealthy and more resourceful – it's hard to say. They looked like creatures of the night who had crawled out of some niche of a fashion magazine.
There was only one entrance to the building. When CeCe stalked up to the bouncer, his face warmed with recognition. They greeted each other and shook hands, then he waved all of them through. Dana felt the bouncer was looking especially at him as they passed by, scrutinizing him for cracks in the facade, but nothing came of it.
The club was dark. The others had been soaked in neon; here it came in dabs and splashes. Miniature light shows appeared throughout the complex, but most of the ambient light came from the clubgoers themselves, whether with clothes, gloves, bracelets, or, in a few cases, hair dyed to react to blacklight. The lack of light only complicated an already irregular arrangement of walls – unless you left a trail of breadcrumbs, you would soon lose track of where you had entered the club. The DJ's mix was a spooked animal: its synths pristling to drive away a threat, baring its teeth with sampled screams echoing from every corner, all of it goaded forward by a rasping bassline.
Zee and Exie soon disappeared in the labyrinthine sub-segments of the club. Dahlia and Dana hung around CeCe, waiting to hear what she would do.
"Ehh, like I think this is still an opener – I dunno, I think maybe I'll drink more and then go out there."
"No objections," Dahlia said. They found the bar quickly within the twist of rooms. CeCe secured a table nearby by speaking with its previous occupants: Dana couldn't imagine what she could have said. She went to the bar and brought back a gin on the rocks for herself, a scotch neat for Dahlia and another cola for Dana.
-.-.-
"Of all the juke joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." The gravelly voice came from someone walking over from the bar. It belonged to a short fellow with a pondscum-green mohawk, a nose-ring and a bow-tie. CeCe's jaw dropped like a rock as she turned to look at him.
"Ohhhh my fucking god: Eve? Is that you?"
"Actually, I'm going by Adam." A beat. "Hah, just fucking with you. My name's Devon now." He walked up and held out his hand. "Really, CeCe, it's been a while: how've you been?"
CeCe leapt off her chair and swept Devon up in a close embrace. Then she felt self-conscious and stepped away. "Like, holy fucking fuck, I can't believe it's you! I mean, wow. You look, like, so different. Umm, like I mean, you look great!"
"Hah, I feel great! I've started lifting a little, y'know, now and again." A beat. "You look lovely as always."
"Hehe, well like, y'know, I've been holding it down. Going to school, getting it done, all that shit."
"Right, right, cool. And you've met someone nice, I suppose – someone to tame your wild side?"
"Ahhh, well... no, like there's no-one serious. Like there's some pretty boys and all, but they're all dumb as shit. It's just fuck 'em and dump 'em, pretty much."
"But of course! You would need a little more going on upstairs." A beat. "I myself have had a hard time finding someone who really gets me, y'know–" Dahlia burst into an awful coughing fit; Dana suspected it wasn't entirely genuine.
"Oh, like fuck, I'm sooo rude right now. Eve – um, I mean Devon, sorry: these are my girls, Dahlia and Dee Dee. Girls, this is Devon, an old friend of mine."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Devon pulled up Dahlia's hand to kiss it; Dahlia looked about ready to spit in his face. Then he did the same for Dana.
"So, Monsieur Devon, what is it you're doing these days?" Dahlia's silky voice sounded as though a tanker of crude oil had been spilled over it: toxically unctuous. Devon chuckled, cleared his throat, and leaned over toward CeCe. He whispered something in her ear.
"Um, yeahhh! Hey girls, like do you mind if E– uh, if Devon and I step out to somewhere more private? We've got a lot to catch up on."
"When Devon is such a catch, Celia dearest, how could we mind? Please, do go." Dana found even Doctor's normal tone of voice a little unnerving. But after hearing her like this, he was praying for a return to normalcy. Neither CeCe nor Devon took any notice, however. They each gave a quick wave and disappeared into the crowd.
"Ummmmmm..." Dana wanted to say something to calm Doctor Starr down, but nothing came to mind. He didn't even know why she was angry! She seemed to dislike this Devon guy (girl? guy.) But why? They had only just met, and he had been perfectly courteous to her – a little overfamiliar, perhaps. Whatever the reason, she was still livid even after Devon had left. Her knuckles were bone-white from gripping her glass; Dana was worried she would shatter it.
"Please, Dana, excuse me for a moment." Dahlia downed the rest of her drink and stalked over to the bar. She ordered three shots of whiskey and knocked them back in quick succession. When she returned to the table, she wore a fearsome smile. "I'm going to go powder my nose, dear: perhaps you'd like to join me?"
Why would Dana want to accompany Doctor to the restroom? He didn't have to go himself. Well, actually... maybe he did. Dana had been avoiding going to the restroom all night. He knew he looked unquestionably female right now, but still: what if someone found him out? A man in the women's restroom was an unforgivable offense, was it not? He could never live it down.
For the second time in two days, his bladder decided things for him. He hadn't relieved himself in hours, and if he didn't soon he would wet himself: arguably worse than being clocked as a man. Anyway, if he was quick, hardly anyone would see him, right? Dana followed Dahlia into the restroom.
Like the rest of the club, the restroom was dark and half-devoured. Graffiti sprawled over every surface; the sinks looked like they'd seen some [stuff.] Dana feared the toilets would be similarly abused. Instead they were unassuming and functional, and after a small struggle with his dress he got in and out of the stall with minimal fuss. He didn't have to think about sitting to pee – he always sat to pee, never supposing there was anything unusual about that.
When he went to wash his hands, he saw Dahlia had set a small mirror on the counter. She was chopping and scraping at a white powder on the mirror, straightening it into two clean lines. Then she pulled a dollar bill from her purse and, with the simplest flick of her fingers, rolled it into a tight tube. It took only a few more moments for her to lean over the mirror and vaccuum all of one line up her nose.
Dahlia sniffled, smiled and turned to Dana. "If you would?" she said, holding the rolled bill out to him.
"... ... ... No! No, no, um, no thank you, Doctor?"
She shrugged. "More for moi." She disposed of the other line just as easily.
Dana's mind was reeling. Doctor Starr was a cocaine user?! She couldn't be, she just couldn't – but the evidence was right before his eyes. It didn't make any sense! His father had shown him pictures of people who used cocaine: they were all wretched, hollow-eyed, emaciated ghouls. All it took was one hit and the drug became your life: nothing else was important but chasing the next high.
Doctor didn't look anything like the people in those pictures. She was far from skeletal, for one; she was also beyond beautiful. What's more, she was by all appearances living a life that wasn't only about cocaine. She had friends, she was going to college, she had hopes and dreams... The cognitive dissonance was almost more than Dana could bear. Could his father have lied to him about cocaine? Why? And if he had, what else might he have lied about?
Dana stood, stunned, in the restroom until Dahlia yanked him outside. Then she made a beeline for the dancefloor. Dana found that his mouth had been totally sapped of moisture. He returned to their table and drained the rest of his cola in one gulp.
-.-.-
The number one rule for clubbing or bar-hopping is never leave your drink unattended. This rule is important enough to bear repeating: whenever you go to a club or a bar, never leave your drink unattended, not even for a moment. If you do leave your drink unwatched by accident, throw it away. Do not drink it – dump it. The reason being, there are people in this world who believe they are entitled to the bodies of anyone they choose. They are willing to use any advantage to take what's "rightfully theirs." Until every last one of these evil fucks has been stomped into the dirt, it is not safe to leave your drink by itself.
Dana's neglecting to take that precaution did not make it his fault that he was dosed with rohypnol. Nor can we blame his parents, since they never expected him to be put in a situation where such a warning would be needed. CeCe and her girls knew Dana was something of an innocent when they took him clubbing, so they could be held partly responsible. Still, the rule is so fundamental that it's no surprise it escaped their mention. But in the end, the only person we can justly blame for the incident is the pathetic sack of shit who spiked Dana's drink. He will remain nameless.
-.-.-
Dana joined Dahlia on the dancefloor, shuffling awkwardly nearby while she flailed around and ground herself up against anyone and everyone except him. About twenty minutes after that, his memory faded to black.
-.-.-
-.-.-
-.-.-
Author's Note:
First, (though this should go without saying,) I'd like to reassure the reader – since Dana (Dee Dee) is explicitly underage, there will be no explicit content involving him (her.)
Second, for my own amusement I made a playlist for each member of CeCe's crew. I have posted them online at the following links.
CeCe: http://8tracks.com/beryl_greenfield/cece-s-fuck-off-rap-mix
Dahlia: http://8tracks.com/beryl_greenfield/dahlia-s-danse-macabre-mix
EXE: http://8tracks.com/beryl_greenfield/exe-s-aminals-mix
Zenon: http://8tracks.com/beryl_greenfield/zenon-s-wavecore-mix
Unless your musical taste happens to coincide with one or more of the characters, you won't find the playlists to be enjoyable in and of themselves. They might still be of interest as another way of getting into the characters' heads. (With the caveat that you learn nothing definite about people from the music they listen to.)