THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Four
By Christopher Leeson
The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Josette’s room, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. She lay in bed, her mind replaying the previous day’s adventure—the salon, the mall, the stares, the stumble. The memory of her humiliation still burned, but so did the thrill of being seen, of being someone entirely new. With a determined sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the phone.
By nine, she had secured an appointment at Serenity Couture for a full makeover. Her grandparents, busy tending to the garden, barely glanced up as she announced her plans to shop for school supplies in the city. They nodded absently, their trust in her unwavering.
Josette dressed modestly for their benefit—jeans and a loose top—but tucked a shopping bag with a mini dress and sexy undergarments into her car. At a rest stop, she transformed herself, shedding the country girl for the city sophisticate. The mini dress clung to her figure, the fabric whispering against her skin as she moved. She left her face bare, saving it for the experts at the salon.
The drive to Licksburg was a blur of anticipation. The city loomed ahead, its skyline a promise of anonymity and adventure. She parked at the mall and made her way to Serenity Couture, where the air smelled of lavender and citrus. The staff greeted her with smiles and soft voices, their hands already reaching to guide her to the plush massage chair.
Josette closed her eyes as they worked their magic. The stylist’s fingers massaged fragrant oils into her scalp, the manicurist’s touch was gentle yet precise, and the makeup artist consulted her on every detail. For the first time, Josette felt what it was like to be pampered, to be treated as someone special. She surrendered to the experience, letting herself drift on the waves of their attention.
When they finally led her to the full-length mirror, she gasped. The reflection staring back was a stranger—sleek, radiant. Her hair shimmered, her nails gleamed, and her makeup stressed her features with artful precision. She looked like the models from the men’s magazines she’d secretly admired.
“Wow,” she whispered, turning to admire herself from every angle. The stylist beamed, clearly pleased with her reaction.
The makeup artist handed her a card, saying, “Come back anytime.”
This confidence boost carried her into the T&B Shoe Store, where rows of high-heeled pumps beckoned like works of art. She hesitated, torn between admiration and dread. The shoes were beautiful, but she had practiced high-heel walking just enough to see them as instruments of torture. Maybe women were masochists. Still, she couldn’t resist trying on a pair.
The first step while wearing the store shoes was wobbly. She paused, lest she fall, and looked into the adjacent mirror. The heels elongated her legs, making her feel taller, and more commanding. Was this feeling of pride and power the reason that girls were always so bossy?
As she admired herself, a man’s voice broke into her reverie. “Those look great on you.”
She turned to see a guy in his early twenties, his gaze fixed on her legs. “Thanks,” she said warily.
“I could buy them for you,” he offered, his smile too eager.
Josette’s guard went up. “And what do you get in return?”
“Your company for lunch,” he said, his tone light but his eyes intense.
“Lunchtime is past,” she replied, her voice cool.
“We can call it a late lunch,” he persisted, his smile turning cocky.
“I don’t take gifts from strangers,” she said firmly, turning back toward the mirror. He lingered for a moment, then shrugged and walked away. Josette exhaled, her heart racing. The encounter left her feeling both flattered and uneasy.
She decided not to buy the shoes herself. It seemed like Josie had plenty of shoes back home. But even wearing shoes, she was familiar with her first couple of steps sent her sprawling on the sidewalk. Damn! She had torn one knee of her pantyhose!
Strangers hurried up and helped her to get back on her feet. With tears prickling the corners of her eyes, she hurried from the mall with as much dignity as possible. A block away, she sat down on a cement street bench, trying to forget her embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” a woman passerby asked.
Josette waved her off.
“Young lady, if you feel lost and alone, please come to our mission.” Josette looked up at the lady’s beatific smile. Without saying more, the strange lady gave her a departing nod and continued on her way.
One glance at the paper stung Josette like a hornet. It was from a religious order offering help and support for runaway girls and hookers! She didn’t think that she looked like a hooker. She knew what high school boys liked, and she had decked herself out to look like the date they all dreamed of! Was the woman honestly talking dumb, or had she been a practical joker?
But the encounter had shaken her confidence about her appearance. She ducked into the nearest fast-food place and ordered an orange juice. The boy at the counter wasn’t trying very hard to avoid staring at her cleavage.
She turned away, sipped her drink, and found herself the unmistakable center of the local male gaze. The crowd, mostly young men, were mostly zeroed in on her bare limbs. She straightened her posture, like a prisoner up before a firing squad. Was this what it felt like to be one of the prettier girls —constantly being looked at? Josette wasn’t sure if it was exhilarating or objectifying.
Her finished her drink double-quick and left the establishment. Being paranoid about being stared at, she entered the mall on the next block. Once inside the wide, open hall, she imagined herself walking past Loren’s friends in a Westbrook mall, making all their jaws dropping in longing. The fantasy brought a smile to her lips, but it faded as quickly. Would this fantasy come true when she returned to school as Josette? What would be feel like to be looked at not as a buddy, but as a…hot girl…whom they didn’t know? The thought made her cringe.
A glance back told her that two boys were following her. Memories of crime dramas flashed in her mind, and she ducked into the nearest store, her heart pounding. She hastened through the aisles, checking over her shoulder, and slipped out the back exit when no one was looking. She sighed with relief for having escaped, but her encounter with stalkers had left her shaken.
The girl from Westbrook wandered past an art museum. Its out-front statue of Prometheus and the vulture caught her eye. She’d seen before as Loren, but today it looked more like Hercules being attacked by a chicken. The absurdity of that take made her laugh, and she decided to go inside.
The exhibits inside were bathed in soft light. Josette pretended to study the objects of art but realized that -- to many of the patrons -- she had become the newest artistic display. She could almost feel male eyes burning her skin. Again, she was unsure whether she should be mortified or flattered.
Deciding on the former, she left the museum. Just having crossed the street, she nearly collided with a photographer exiting his studio. He took one look at the youthful svelte beauty and said, “You have the perfect look for my portfolio. I Can pay you by the hour to pose!”
Josette politely declined, unwilling to enter a dark room with a stranger. She walked away from him, thinking that being a beautiful girl in a city was like being a mouse in a house full of traps.
Her mind swirling, Josette went into a cafe, ready for lunch. She ordered a pasta dinner with a cup of tomato juice to go with it.
Leaving the counter with her tray, she stumbled into a server, and he bumped her elbow. The juice splashed her face and ran down her chest under her dress, while the sticky cheese and pasta decorated her from her diaphragm down her to her high-heeled shoes! Everyone turned to gawk.
Aghast, Josette fled toward the restroom. Being rattled, she barged into the men’s room! The men inside started adjusting their clothing rapidly. One clown told her she was the most convincing transvestite that he’d ever seen and promised to take her out if she got the “operation.”
Mortified, Josette bolted from the room, but her dress caught on the door handle, making a foot-long rip in one side of it. She dropped everything and with both hands held the fabric closed while retreating into the ladies’ room. One diner in it understood Josette’s appalling condition and promised to come back with something to cover herself with.
The lady quickly returned carrying a blue cleanup-crew jacket. Washing off the goop, Josette undid her entire makeover, except for her manicure. She became a mess, her makeup having gone down the drain with the tomato juice. She tossed her ruined, soiled dress into the wastebasket. Damn it! She’d looked so good wearing that hot little number!
The borrowed smock made her a pathetic sight. It rode even shorter on her thighs than the red dress had. She left the store, trying not to run, and hurried into a nearby family shop. The ill-dressed maid bought a cheap pair of pants and a shirt and put them on inside the changing room.
Afterward, Josette went back to the cafe, entering it like a fugitive from justice. She hung the borrowed smock from a steel chair and skulked from the premises, dead set against meeting anyone who had seen her earlier disgrace.
Frantic to get out of this cruel city, she went back to her car and drove to a mini-mall on the edge of town. Having ruined her meal, she went into the local Burger King to buy another lunch. She received her order as a tray holding a milkshake, burger and French fries. The dining room was crowded, but just then a party of diners were just leaving their booth.
She ate in solitude for a few minutes, an then a boy her age approached. Using the lack of seating as an excuse, he asked, “May I share you booth?”
She told him, “I was just about to leave, anyway.” Carried what was left of her food, she went back to her car to eat.
Afterward, disgruntled, the disheveled teen inserted the ignition key and started the engine. As drove, the day's unpleasantness kept running through her mind. When she got back to her grandparents’ house, she saw grandfather Joseph
pushing the lawn mower. He turned it off when he caught sight of her sticky hair and anguished look. She fibbed, telling him she had been soaked by a lawn sprinkler placed too close to the sidewalk. She didn’t want to enumerate the list of humiliations she had undergone.
For the next couple of days, Grandpa and Grandma guided Josette around to their favorite sites in the area. It was a dull tour, but being in adult company was a relief and she didn't feel like complaining.
After breakfast, Joseph took Grandma in for a check up, leaving Josette alone. She passed the empty hours of the day talking solitary country walks. There was a park with a public swimming pool and she vaguely thought she could go back to her room to fetch the bikini packed in her luggage, but didn’t feel in the mood to flash skin around. And another situation oppressed her. Tomorrow she would have to load the car and drive back to Westbrook.
School started on Monday and Josette wasn’t sure whether she should play sick or bite the bullet and attend orientation day as Josette Melford. She wondered what to do if she encountered Josie’s friends, who were strangers to her. If she flubbed at remembering their names, what would they think?
#
Josette arrived at Holend Street in Westbrook on Sunday evening. Her mother greeted her, but the teen shared few travel stories before going to bed. As an afterthought, Josette picked out slacks, socks, and a shirt, garments suitable to wear to school the next day. Many of the girls attending dressed hot, so maybe if she dressed plainly, she thought fewer people would pay attention to her.
Josette drove to school with her convertible top down, like a leper hiding behind a mask. She parked in the student lot and sat for a couple of minutes, fighting against the urge to leave again.
She learned that interacting with strangers could lead to bad experiences, but she feared it would be worse if embarrassing things happened in front of people she knew. She took a deep breath, left the Ford, and started walking toward the school’s double doors like a felon walking toward Boot Hill. The front hall was full of people and many a head turned her way.
She could guess why the boys were looking. Loren would have looked at a girl like Josette, too, but the interest of the girls mystified her. She supposed that girls were just snoopy. They treated everybody's business like it was their own. Josette could hardly remember why Loren had been so attracted to girls before -- for anything other than their good looks, that is.
But, even in her dismal state, she had to admit that some girls made good moms and grandmas.
A girl approached, and Josette remembered both her face and her name. She was Josie’s friend Amanda, wearing a loud tee shirt. Amanda drew nigh and smiled uncertainly. “Josie! How come you didn’t dress for the first day of school?”
Josette smiled uneasily. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Lots of girls came dressed this way today.”
“But we agreed weeks ago that when school opened, we’d steal all the attention by wearing the rocking best tees that we bought over the summer.”
“I forgot that. I’ve been out of town and I've been bombarded by all kinds of distractions.” When Amanda didn't press the matter, Josette walked past her with a parting nod.
Well, that meeting with one of her “old friends” hadn’t gone so badly, Josette thought. It has sure helped that she could address the girl by the right name.
For Orientation Day, the gymnasium was arrayed with teachers sitting at small tables hung with signs denoting the grade and the section of the classes for all the grades. The senior table was occupied by Mr. Bruno, a math teacher. He didn’t change his expression when he looked up at Josette. “Let’s see, you’re....”
“Josette Melford,” she clarified. “I was in Section A last year.”
The instructor took a manila envelope out of his file box and handed it to her. Josette stepped away and read it. She saw that her first class would be social studies. A minute later, the teen was out of the gym and walking down a terrazzo hall, making for room 207.
Only a few people were in the class ahead of her. At the door, a wave of anxiety came over Josette. It was creepy being among kids whom she knew. If anyone had shouted out the name of “Loren” then and there, she would have turned and run. Josie had no close friends in the under-filled social studies room and the only words spoken to her were “Hi, Josie.”
More classes followed, and no one paid special attention to her, except the boys bold enough, or desperate enough, to steal looks at her. Josette didn’t call anyone out for glancing; acting hypersensitive would only make her the center of attention.
At lunch, Josette hesitated, seeing several of Josie’s elite crowd at one table together. A couple looked her way as if to say, “Come on over!” But she was sour on the idea of joining those people. These were the smart, well-off kids who had always treated Loren like the Invisible Man. Their table looked no more welcoming than a pond of barracudas.
Josette had realize she could become one of the popular kids now, but how long would she stay popular with them after they found out that her ideas and interests had entirely changed? She looked around the room trying to spot someone whom she knew, very much like a castaway looking for a desert island.
She spotted Darrell Rivers sitting alone. She sauntered toward the boy, wanting to make a good impression in her girl persona, and so forced a bright smile onto her nervous lips.
Darrell looked up, bemused. “Hi, Darrell. Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Darrell’s eyes widened. Josette knew what was running through the guy's mind just then. Whenever an unpopular boy was accosted by a popular girl, it almost always meant trouble.
“No, not at all!” the boy said. He pulled his cup and lunch tray closer to himself so quickly that some of his chocolate milk sloshed.
Josette laughed lightly and took a napkin. Girls were supposed to be tidy, she knew. She wiped up the spill with a napkin from the dispenser. “I’m Josette. I’ve seen you around school last year quite a bit. Have we ever spoken before?” Josette honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.
“Um, nope, we haven’t.” Darrell frowned down at his tray.
“Well, you know, I’ve heard you’re one of the cool guys.” When the youth seemed too shocked to reply, she tilted her head and said, “Knock knock!”
Darrell’s face scrunched. Was this great-looking girl offering a joke? “Who’s there?” he tentatively replied.
“A broken pencil!” Josette grinned.
“A broken pencil who?” Darrell asked cautiously.
“Never mind, it’s pointless!” Josette surprised herself by giggling. Loren hadn’t been a giggler, so what gave? Were girls hard-wired to giggle? Bummer!
Darrell’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Good one!”
Her old friend went silent and went back to eating. But that wasn’t what Josette wanted out of this encounter.
“I’ve had a dull summer,” she said. “How was it with you?”
Darrell blinked with surprise that she was pushing for conversation.
“Uh, fine. I did a lot of reading. You...you don’t read science fiction, do you?” he asked.
“I love science fiction! I especially like the John Norman Gor stories.” She was being playful, wanting to shock her bud. He had probably had fantasies of meeting a pretty girl who like Gor. The book would sure have given a young couple something to talk about!
The youth looked agitated. “I enjoy hearing that. B--But I thought only boys read those stories.”
“I like a lot of the things that what boys read! They have great taste,” said the pert blonde. “But I thought everyone knew that Norman has a huge female following.”
“I’ve heard that, too, I could hardly believe it.”
“Well, girls are into relationships, and on Gor men and women get along so famously. On the planet Earth, nobody knows how to behave socially. How can they, with everything that's right today becoming wrong tomorrow. Is there any wonder why nobody can stay married?”
“That’s true,” Darrell replied in a low voice.
“Say, I saw a pretty great movie this summer. Top Gun: Maverick,” Josette said, changing the subject.
“I saw that, too,” said the boy. “It was great. If you want to get the news on what movies are worth going to, listen to that TV and movie critic on YouTube called Doomcock. He can tell a good movie from a stinker!”
“And if he doesn't know, Harvey Cthulhu will!" The both of them laughed.
They went on talking about movies until the clock warned them they had under ten minutes to get to their classes.
Josette abruptly asked, “Darrell, my cousin used to war game with friends in this town. He’s about our age. Do you remember anyone named Loren Melford?
“I don’t know any Melford except you.” He glanced at the clock again. “It’s time to get to go.”
“I’m glad we got the chance to talk,” said Josette. "I’ve heard you know more about popular culture than anyone else in school. There's nobody like you in the crowd I've been going with. See you around?” She made that statement sound like a question.
“Sure...” said Darrell.
“Maybe soon?”
“The sooner the better,” he said, but then winced. Boys were not allowed to sound to eager about anything.
“Yes, the sooner the better,” Josette affirmed.
Darrell smiled abashedly. “Well, I’m here every noon hour, usually alone,” he said.
Josette gave him a smile and a nod. As she headed for the exit, she could feel the warmth of his eyes staring at her back.
Their brief talk she’d had recharged her, and somehow she managed to hold herself together for the rest of the afternoon.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5
