The Dark of the Moon: Josette Story, Chapter 4

By Christopher Leeson

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Josette’s room, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. She lingered in bed, her mind replaying the previous day’s adventure—the salon, the mall, the stares, the stumble. The sting of humiliation persisted; however, so did the thrill of newfound visibility and admiration. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the phone.

By nine, Josette had secured an appointment at Serenity Couture for a full makeover. She wasn’t sure what a full makeover was, but she was feeling adventurous. 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, showing no distrust at all.

Josette dressed modestly for their benefit—jeans and a loose top—but tucked a shopping bag, already bulging with her mini dress and sexy undergarments, into her car. At a rest stop, she transformed herself, shedding her country girl garb for city sophistication. Clinging to her figure, the mini dress’s fabric whispered against her skin as she moved. Josie had filled her closet with tight dresses. Loren liked them, too, as long as the well-stacked girls were wearing them.

Lost in thought, Josette barely noticed the scenery until the city’s skyline loomed ahead. She parked, then took the elevator from the mall ramp to the entry. She bustled to Serenity Couture, where the air smelled of lavender and citrus. The staff in white coats greeted her amiably, eager to guide her into a curtained room where there was a fancy 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. Pampering was new to Josette; it made her feel valued. She let her attendants do what they wanted, experience, letting herself drift on the flattering waves of their attention.

When the beauticians helped her up and 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 a model from Maxim Magazine.

She rotated to admire herself from every angle, whispering, “Wow.” The stylist beamed with pride at that one-word statement of approval.
The makeup artist then handed Josette a business card, saying, “Come back anytime.”

While the others departed, she put on the shoes from home and returned to the mirror, admiring the class that high heels added to the long line of her legs.

Behind her, a voice exclaimed, “You look great!””

She looked back at a guy. He was in his early twenties and his eyes weren’t fixed on her makeup job, but on her legs. “Thanks,” she said warily.

“I think your outfit could use some sort of accessory,” he remarked, his smile too eager.
Josette’s guard went up. “And what do you get?” she asked.

“Your company for lunch,” he said, his tone light but his eyes intense.

“Lunchtime is past,” she reminded him.

“We can call it a late lunch,” the man persisted. He fixed her gaze with a cocky smile.

Josette firmly refused to take gifts from a stranger, then resumed admiring herself. The stranger paused briefly, then left. Josette felt jumpy. He had been trying to “pick her up.” That a college-age guy had the eye for Loren Meford was so ridiculous an idea that she almost laughed. Josette left the store, but because she wasn’t used to these shoes, the uneven texture of the sidewalk outside tripped her. She fell into the decorative bushes planted as a trim next to the curb.

Strangers hurried up and helped her to get back on her feet. Tears welled even while she tried to exit the mall with grace. 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, I think you could find a happier life if you visited our mission and talked to people. Others there have escaped lives like yours.

Josette looked up at the stranger’s beatific smile. Without saying more, the lady pushed a card into her hand. Then, with a parting smile, she turned away and continued her stroll. 

Josette read the card. It was issued by a religious mission offering help and support for runaway girls and hookers! Hookers? Was the woman unintelligent or merely playing a trick?

Josette suddenly decided to leave the street. She scurried into a fast-food place and ordered an orange juice. The boy who served her bother to conceal his fascination with her cleavage.

While sipping her juice while sitting in a lonely spot, she had a funny feeling. It was like box-elder bugs scurrying over her body. She was suddenly sure that people were staring at her. Onlookers, primarily young men, enjoyed the spectacle. She sat up, straightened, and decamped.

While fast-walking along the curve, her backward glance saw two boys walking behind her. She wondered if they had followed her out of the food joint. A mall entrance ahead offered refuge, and she hurried through its doors. She didn’t stay long, but quickly sought a back exit. Once outside, shame washed over her. What if being followed and watched were only her imagination?

Josette pressed ahead and paused in front of the city art museum. She would have recognized that statue of Prometheus, assailed by his vulture, anywhere. To Loren, it looked like Hercules was being attacked by a chicken. But today she wasn’t Loren and didn’t feel like smiling.

Indoors, the museum’s exhibits were bathed in soft light. Feeling better in the dim light, Josette suddenly became aware of people still staring at her. The crowd included men and boys, but they made themselves look sneaky when they glanced away, trying to make it seem they weren’t spying on her. Being unassuming, Loren rarely attracted notice. Girl-type beauty certainly came at a high price.

She left the museum without having seen much and stopped next at the Green Parrot Cafe. It was almost 1:00 pm, and she was ready for lunch. She ordered a pasta dinner with a cup of tomato juice to go with it.

But trying to navigate the crowd, she stumbled into a server who bumped her elbow. The juice splashed her face and dress, and sticky cheese and pasta crawled down to her ankles, covering everything that the juice had missed. Everyone around her turned her way to gawk. 

Josette fled into the restroom, but the men inside were startled and hurriedly adjusted their clothing. One clown called out that she was the most convincing transvestite he’d ever seen. “If you get the operation, look me up!” he joked.

Josette swung about and dashed away. Her dress caught on the door handle, and one side of her dress ripped open. She dropped everything and held the fabric closed with both hands. One diner called out, “Keep out of sight, miss! I’ll get you a cover-up!”

When the lady returned a minute later, she was carrying a jacket with the restaurant logos on it. Went to the sink to wash up. She was a mess, her makeover job going down the drain along with the tomato juice. She tossed her ruined dress into the wastebasket. Damn! she thought. That was the best dress that Josie owned!

Wearing the jacket, Josette left the store and headed for the family clothing shop nearby. She bought inexpensive clothes, changed, and left.

Afterward, Josette went back to the cafe and entered it shyly, like a fugitive from justice. She hung the borrowed smock over the back of a steel customer chair before fleeing.

Fed up with this cruel city, she fled to her car and drove to a mini-mall on the city’s fringe. Feeling weak from not eating, she slouched into the local Burger King. Prices had doubled compared to those of a few years prior. But all the fast-food places were price-gouging these days. Because she hadn’t bought shoes, she had enough money to purchase a milkshake, a burger, and French fries. The dining crowd was small, so she easily found a secluded booth.

A boy her age approached. “May I share your booth?” he asked.

Josette scowled. There was plenty of seating space available. She told the youth, “I was just about to leave, anyway.” Carrying the leftover food, she went back to her car and finished eating there. When finished, she took her car out to the highway.

When she reached her grandparents’ house, her grandfather was mowing the lawn. When he saw her sticky hair and anguished look, he switched off the machine. “What is it, honey?” he asked.

Josette fibbed, blaming her appearance on a lawn sprinkler. The blonde girl stayed near to the house for the next couple of days. Grandpa and Grandma took her around to see their favorite local spots. Despite a boring tour, the family's presence improved her spirits. The next morning, because of Grams having a doctor appointment, Josette was left alone. She passed the empty hours taking country walks. Mostly, she was thinking about school. She had to pose as Josette Melford. There, she would encounter strangers who would think she was their close friend. When they realized she didn’t know their names, what would they think?

#

Josette left her grandparents on Sunday morning and returned to Westbrook before dark. Her mother asked questions. Josette’s vacation trip must have sounded blank since she was leaving out all her humiliating experiences. Just before bedtime, Josette picked out the slacks, socks, and a shirt that she intended to wear to school the next day. Let the other girls dress hot; she didn’t feel like it.
 
Josette sat in the school parking lot for five minutes the next morning, dreading the idea of entering the school building. She felt unprepared to step into a familiar place as a stranger. With a deep breath, the girl left the car and walked through the school’s double doors as if she were approaching an execution chamber. People looked her way.

A girl approached, dressed in jeans and a fancy printed T-shit. Josette fortunately remembered her face and name from the yearbook. Amanda, drawing nigh, smiled uncertainly, “Josie? Why didn’t you wear your special clothes today?”

Josette sent back a false grin. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s so important about the first day of school?”

“The entire gang agreed we should wear our best new summer tees on opening day.”

“I forgot,” Josette said. Sorry. I’ve got to go get my class schedule at the gymnasium.

Amanda called after her. “Will I be able to catch you later?!”

“Maybe,” Josette mumbled.

Folding tables littered the gymnasium; teachers and administrators distributed first-semester schedules. Josette was given a folder with the name “Josette Medford” written on it. She nearly missed the English class bell. Fortunately, the teacher took names and afterward let everyone go. The less she had to do, the more she liked it.

Following English came Social Studies. That class comprised mostly males who stared at her. She wondered how many of these people she was supposed to know.

At lunch, someone called her name and waved her over to their table, where other strangers sat. These affluent, stylish kids habitually treated Loren as if he were invisible. Josette turned away. She was in the mood to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

Josette searched for familiar faces, like a castaway seeking fellow survivors.

Josette spotted Darrell Rivers lunching in a solitary spot. She sauntered toward the boy, steeling herself to make a good impression. She had to pretend that she didn’t know him.

Darrell looked up bemusedly when she asked, “Hi, Darrell. Mind if I join you?”

Josette could guess what was running through her friend’s mind. Whenever an unpopular boy was accosted by a popular girl, it almost always meant he was being drafted into a practical joke.

“No, not at all!” the boy said. He pulled his cup and lunch tray closer to himself to give her more room. His movement was so quick that some of his chocolate milk sloshed.

Josette laughed lightly and cleaned up the spill with a table napkin. “I don’t think we’ve spoken before. I’m Josette Melford,” she said.

“I’ve seen you around,” Darrell replied, staring perplexedly at his tray to avoid meeting her glance.

“I’ve heard you’re a cool guy,” the blonde said. Darrell looked up mutely, unable to fashion a reply. Noting that, she said, “Knock knock!”

Darrell’s face scrunched. Was she going to tell 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!”

Darrell’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Good one!” 

The youth then resumed eating.

Wanting to have a conversation, Josette said, “I’ve had a dull summer. How was yours?”

Her willingness to talk surprised Darrell.

“Uh, fine. I did a lot of reading. You...you don’t read science fiction, do you?” he asked.

“I love science fiction!” Josette answered emphatically. “I especially like John Norman’s Gor stories.”

She enjoyed seeing his agape expression. All the phony feminists thought it was cool to parrot the pack and declare they hated the sexist John Norma. But Josette had inside information that Darrell had read every one of the Gor books.

The youth’s puzzled face broke into a smile. “I thought it was only boys who read those stories.”

“Boys have great tastes,” said the pert blonde. “But you shouldn’t be surprised. Haven’t you heard Norman has a huge female following?”

That’s what I heard; however, I’m uncertain why.

“It’s the slave girl stuff!” Josette pronounced confidently. “Girls love all that harem stuff just as much as boys do.”

Darrell murmured, “I wouldn’t guess that from their conversation.”

Josette changed the subject. “Say, did you see _Top Gun: Maverick Two?”

“Yeah, I did!” said the boy.

“It was super great!

They talked about movies until the clock hands drew perilously close to 1:00.

When Josette stood up, she asked, “Darrell, my cousin used to play war games with guys in this town. He’s about our age. Do you remember meeting Loren Melford?” 

“I don’t know any Melford except you,” Darell said. He glanced at the clock. In five minutes, he had to be in class. “It’s been nice meeting you,” he said.

“I’m glad we’ve been able to talk,” she replied. “You’re interested in a lot of the same things I am.

Maybe we can talk again soon.”

Darrell looked dazed. “How soon will that be?”

She was enjoying his disbelief. “Faster is better.”

Darrell smiled abashedly. “I’m here every day,” he said.

Josette gave a departing smile and a nod. As she descended to the ground floor, she felt a world better.
 

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5