Josette's next awakening hit her like a blast of cold water. This wasn't a bad dream. It was reality. She was living the life of a blonde girl! When she looked at herself in the mirror, she reeled. The teen desperately hoped the next new moon would solve her problems. Otherwise, living out her life in girl shape would be a daunting challenge.

She thought that dealing with Josie’s friends would be her biggest problem. They recalled a nonexistent friend and therefore knew more about Josette Melford than she did! To fake her way through the long weeks, she had to learn everything she could about people’s expectations about Josie—a monumental task.

After showering in her pajamas, Josette stood dripping in front of Josie's closet, still wearing the dripping nightgown. Changing into Josie’s clothes felt like yielding to circumstances. With gritted teeth, she searched the closet and dresser drawers for jeans, plain shirts, and sneakers. But around Josie, such garments were as rare as gold nuggets.

Seemingly, Josie had the same sense of fashion as Tiffany Malloy from Unhappily Ever After. Why had her mom allowed her to go about like a sex bomb?

Josette leaned back against the wall and gave a moaning sigh. What else was in store for her while she lived this crazy life? According to the instruction sheet, a person who used the magic oil gained not only the appearance of his ideal girl, but would experience her tastes and feelings, too.

After donning the least feminine outfit she could scrounge together, Josette descended the stairs as if the electric chair were waiting for her in the living room. The fragrant smell of coffee and toast drifted in from the kitchen.

Josette's next awakening hit her like a blast of cold water. Sunlight streamed through unfamiliar curtains, and the reality crashed down on her—this wasn't a bad dream. She was living the life of a blonde girl she didn’t know! Could she go back to normal? Even if the enchantment ended after a month, over that time, she’d have to act differently from herself while keeping the truth hidden from everyone.

"How am I going to handle Josie's friends?" she asked her reflection. They’d have expectations, memories, and inside jokes that Josette couldn’t know. To succeed, she had to discover and memorize every aspect of Josie’s existence—a monumental task.

After forcing herself through a shower wearing her pajamas, Josette stood in front of the closet in her dripping nightgown. She needed real clothes, but voluntarily putting on girls’ clothes felt like surrendering to the situation. With gritted teeth, she started searching for the most gender-neutral items she could find—jeans, plain shirts, sneakers. But Josie's wardrobe had other ideas.

"Damn it," she muttered, pushing aside another ruffled top. Josie had the fashion sense of Tiffany Malloy from Unhappily Ever After—a super minx of calculated sex appeal and cunning manipulation.

What made everything worse was that, according to the instruction sheet, the oil user gained not only the appearance of a car-stopping girl, but her tastes and feelings too. And who knew what those were? After putting on the least flashy outfit she could assemble, Josette made her way downstairs. The smell of coffee and toast filled the kitchen, where her mother was already seated at the table, scrolling through her phone. Loren had learned that his mother was a busy person, so he had gotten used to serving himself at meals. Josette sat across from her parent with a fully laden plate.

“Are you feeling better?” Lynette Melford asked.

“Yeah, quite a bit. My appetite is coming back.”

“That’s good!”

Josette stirred her cereal absently.

“Why so glum?” her mother asked.

Josette made up a reason. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Dad. I have a brother and a sister, but I hardly know them.

"I’m sorry. You dad has a high-pressure job now, and it’s hard for him to take tended trips away from home. If you’re missing him, I wish you could have mentioned it. We could have arranged for you to visit, but now school is opening soon."

“I hadn’t considered it before now.”

“I’d love to chat more, sweetheart, but I’m busy with the church rummage sale committee tomorrow. You could come and help me if you wish to.”

"I don’t feel like learning new things,” Josette said, but then added quickly, "I've already started reading about meditation. Maybe that will help."

"Meditation?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "That's a new one for you. I'm sorry I've been keeping myself so busy. We need more time together."

"Yes, we do, Mom," Josette agreed. When her mom left, Josette welcomed the solitude. She needed to learn more about her new self, so revisited her room, approaching the large trunk she hadn’t bothered with before this. Inside, Josette discovered a treasure trove of Halloween-type outfits: Sexy Playboy Bunny, Sexy Princess Leia, Sexy Swashbuckler, and a Red Riding Hood outfit certified to pop the eyes out of any big, bad wolf.

Loren enjoyed seeing girls wearing fantasy costumes, but for Josette to get into a Leg Avenue outfit was a no-go. She ran her fingers over the fabric of the topmost costumes. For how many parties had Josie required all these outfits? Or did she just collect them, like some girls collected stuffed animals?

Having learned nothing from the trunk, Josette closed it and pulled out the magical instruction sheet again. She could only talk safely to persons similarly affected by the oil, it had stated. Fat chance of finding anyone else in that situation!

The only person she could usefully transform would be her mother, but the sheet had said that only boys could be transformed, not women. This meant she couldn’t transform her mother, so she could safely confide in her.

Josette flopped onto the bed, feeling more isolated than ever. The prospect of returning to school as a female filled her with dread. How could she maintain such an extreme deception for long?

“I’ll have to stay isolated,” she told herself. “And avoid Josie's social circle. They could trip me up in a thousand different ways.”

She picked up Josie's phone and turned it on to check past emails. Many of them were from someone named Leah.

The latest text said, "Why is your phone off? Are you dying or something? If you're still alive, please, please answer me!"

Josette typed out a response. "Sorry, Leah! Still feeling awful. Super-contagious foreign flu. Staying home. We'll see how I feel on Monday. Have fun without me!"

She again switched off her phone to avoid further contact. With luck, Leah would spread the word, and people would stop calling her.

The girl returned to studying the photos stored on the phone. Various faces appeared with Josie -- presumably her friends--but which one was Leah?

The high school yearbook provided answers. Josette paged through it until she found the only Leah in the junior class. The girl looked familiar. As Loren, she'd seen that face around school. Leah was one of those untouchable popular girls who brushed off any guy below varsity status. She always hung out with the letterman crowd. To be able to date cheerleaders always elevated a boy’s social standing, but that was a privilege unavailable to people called nerds.

When Josette felt hungry, she went to the kitchen and enjoyed a lunch of fried dough with butter and honey. Then, reluctantly, Josette went back to her studies.

The afternoon slipped away. Around five, footsteps sounded on the ground floor. Josette hurried downstairs, an idea taking shape.

"Mom!"

Lynette Melford was surprised by her daughter's enthusiastic tone. "What is it, honey?"

"I want to visit grandma and grandpa! Just until school starts. I can pack tonight and drive to Licksville tomorrow."

"What's the sudden rush?"

Josette kept her voice casual. “I’d enjoy a long, relaxing visit with the old folks before classes start up.

"What brought this on?"

"I'm just... tired of being at the beck and call of my Westbrook friends. They have no imagination, and their ideas are stale. I need a break from them."

“Stale? How?”

“They can't figure out what's cool! Talking about comics, games, and action movies only gets a person blank stares.”

“Do you like those topics?” asked her mother bemusedly.

“I’m just learning how much fun they can be.”

Her mother studied her daughter's face for a long moment. “Mom and Dad should be pleased you’re coming. I'll contact them to make sure this is a suitable visiting time for you.”

Josette fast-walked toward the stairs. "I'll start packing now!" she called back. Upstairs, she put her room into even more disorder while she packed. She selected mostly clothes, since Josie didn’t have the sci-fi books and comics that Loren liked to take on trips.

The drive provided Josette with considerable time to think. By the time she pulled into their gravel driveway, her hands on the steering wheel were trembling. She was suddenly afraid to show herself to her grandparents. Would the magic be consistent? Would they even know who she was? At that moment, her grandmother Emma came hurrying out the front door, arms outstretched.

"Josie! We're so happy to see you! Joe! Josie’s here!” she called over her shoulder.

Josette was relieved that her grandmother remembered her—or rather, she remembered Josie. Wherever that magic had come from, it was powerful! "H-Hi Grams," she managed to say, despite a catch in her voice.

"There's the princess who’s named after me!" Shouted her grandfather, Joseph, from the door. Grandpa would never admit that his granddaughter had not been named after him, but rather after a soap opera character. His bear hug lifted the much smaller girl off her feet. "Emma’s been cooking up a storm ever since your mom called."

The coziness of their home made Josette feel less exposed than she had at home. Her grandparents were effusive in their hospitality—fresh-baked cookies, cold milk, and rapid-fire updates about all the activities they had planned for her. Despite her anxiety, Josette relaxed.

That evening, after dinner, Emma showed Josette to the guest room. "We haven’t had to change anything in it since your last visit," she said. There are pajamas on the dresser. "Sleep well, pet."

Left alone, Josette donned a floral pair of pajamas with a shirt and pants. At least they weren’t a babydoll!

Josette stayed close to the house over the weekend. She had brought photos and the journal books from home and continued to memorize names and faces. Her grandparents showered her with attention, but they didn't press for engagement when she grew quiet or wished to retreat to her room. Early Monday morning, Grandpa took Grandma off to an appointment, leaving their granddaughter on her own recognizance.

As soon as their car disappeared, she went to check out the things she'd brought from home. Before Josette could stop herself, she was experimenting with lipstick and powder. After that, she slid into a party dress with a swishy skirt. Suddenly the idea of dressing up like one of the hot girls at school excited her.

She wanted to see if she could achieve the Tiffany Malloy. Loren had watched TV with eyes glued on every abbreviated outfit that Tiffany had worn. Now she found herself wondering if she could look as hot as actress Nikki Cox had looked. She had brought a couple alluring outfits from home, either one suitable for a town outing.

Wearing the shortest dress she had brought, Josette got ready and drove into Licksburg. In a public parking lot, she suddenly lost her nerve. She sat for ten minutes, debating whether to have a sexy excursion or to hurry back to the country house unseen.

Finally, she left the car, taking with her one of Josie’s purses, since her dress didn’t have any pockets. Wearing a short dress, she found, felt even cooler than Loren was used to when wearing trunks as a boy. Despite her pride in her appearance, being looked at by males on the street disconcerted her.

Part of her wanted to get out of sight and buy a pair of jeans, but another part of her felt delightfully wicked. She felt some kind of a charge from being able to make people turn and look.

Wherever that feeling came from, it was getting stronger. Some force compelled Josette to halt before the show window of Claudette’s Boudoir. Claudette’s was one of a new chain of lingerie shops that had stolen Victoria's Secret's thunder. The latter had given up on angels and started pushing merchandise to plus-size women and girls with knobby knees.

Josette felt a thrill. She now understood she could enter a place like that and stare to heart’s content at provocative clothing without coming off as a degenerate.

"Can I help you find anything?" The female sales clerk asked, smiling warmly.

“I’m just browsing,” Josette said. She hadn't been planning to buy anything, but with the salesgirl’s encouragement, consented to being tape-measured. By some strange alchemy, she the store an hour later, carrying a bag full of lacy, skimpy things. Josette had even bought a new pair of babydoll pajamas! Unbelievably, she was even looking forward to wearing them to bed that night.

But the teen felt a sudden jolt of fear. The sheet had warned that the magic could change a fellow’s likes and tastes. Josie’s collection of naughty fashions warned her that her alter ego had looked at young miss clothing that way.

But despite her misgivings, Josette felt exhilaration. Next, Miss Melford was ready for a café lunch. But crossing the dining area in two-inch heels tripped her up–literally. When she grabbed at a table to break her fall, it tipped over, and she smacked down on the tiles surrounded by chaos. Everyone looked at her sprawled there. Mortification made her face burn.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped to the staff as they rushed up to help. Despite her rescue by a kind, unbiased manager, the teen left the café unnoticed the first chance she got.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, Josette wandered into another boutique. A mannequin wearing a slinky, backless dress caught her eye. Lorne had always liked dresses that were tight, scoop-necked, and with sky-high hems. She was still admiring how provocative the dummy looked when a familiar voice coming from behind made her freeze.

"That dress would make you a killer, Josie. Are you going to try it on?"

The teen looked back and recognized the girl behind her. It was Amber Somethingorother from the cheer squad at Westbrook High. Josette’s face flushed hotly.

"Oh, I don’t know…." she stammered.

"Don't be shy!" Amber raised her hand to signal a salesgirl. "Try it on. I insist!"

Before Josette could protest coherently, she was wearing that hot black number, taking in her reflection in the boutique's three-way mirror. Amber bounced with enthusiasm. "Buy it!" the cheerleader urged.

Josette shook her head. “I’ve just started shopping. I’m not a money pit, and I might find something I like even better if I keep looking.”

Amber shrugged. "Suite yourself. Come on, I’m hungry. My favorite cafe is near here.”

“Do you come to Licksville often?” Josette asked to change the subject.

“My mother’s home office is here, and I sometimes travel with her. I like small cities better than large ones. Don’t you?”

“I guess I do,” said Josette.

Over yogurt and salads, Amber regaled Josette with horror stories about thoughtless boyfriends. Josette disliked her friends’ condescending attitude toward boys, but at least she was getting to lunch with an attractive girl. But Josette found Amber’s incessant girl-talk dull and difficult to engage with.

"Come out with me and Steve this weekend!" said Amber, leaning forward, her yogurt forgotten. "The gang on Friday night is hitting the rink. And Brad has been asking about you.”

“Brad?” The girl couldn’t imagine who that was.

“He likes you, as if you didn’t know!” She punctuated this statement with an exaggerated wink.

Josette managed a weak smile. The thought of being pawed by some handsy boy made her skin crawl. "I won’t be back in Westbrook until a couple of days before school starts, Amber. Anyway, my grandparents have something planned for us Friday night," she said carefully.

Soon after, Amber left to rejoin her mom, leaving Josette feeling grateful to be alone again.

That evening, back in the country home, Josette collapsed onto her bed. Despite having liked the more attentive treatment she'd received from business people, being viewed publicly as a girl and, especially, her public stumble at lunch, embarrassed her. But, overall, the wild and woolly ride had been interesting in a weird way.

Did being physically attractive alone explain the better reception she had received? She had now experienced firsthand the well-known truth that people treated girls differently than they treated boys. The thing that bothered her most, however, was the odd feelings she had felt while going about town as a girl. She was worried that the magic was doing things to her below the surface. If it was interfering with the way she thought, the way she reacted to things, that was worrisome.

Like, what if it zapped her into liking boys?

Before getting under the covers, Josette put on the sexy pajamas she had bought in town. She afterward lay on her side, studying her reflection in the mirror. Wearing those shortie, pastel-colored pajamas, she could almost imagine herself as being a worthy rival for Tiffany Malloy.

Before Josette knew it, she dropped off to sleep, her expression made sweet by a tiny smile on her bow-like lips.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FOUR

JOSETTE'S STORY: The Prequel to THE DARK OF THE MOON, Chapter 4

Author:

Christopher Leeson

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Magic

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Other Keywords:

The Mana Universe of Christopher Leeson

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Josette in red.jpg

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 had dressed modestly for their benefit—jeans and a loose top. But she had tucked a shopping bag, already bulging with her mini dress and sexy undergarments, into her car beforehand. At a rest stop, she transformed herself, shedding her country girl garb for city sophistication. The mini-dress clung to her figure, and the fabric whispered against her skin as she moved. Loren had appreciated good taste, and Josie had had gobs of good taste. She had filled her closet with tight dresses like this one. These were fashions that made well-stacked girls look like goddesses.

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 sat 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 as she experienced new sensations, 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. The reflected girl was the exact type that Loren would most like to have been seen with.

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

Once left alone in the booth, Josette put on the shoes from home and checked herself out in the mirror. A shiver ran through her when she saw how the high heels added to the long line of her already incredible legs.

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

She looked back and saw 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. "I'll buy you something cute, if you'd like."

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 was fixing her gaze with a cocky smile.

Josette shook her head, firmly refused to take gifts from a stranger. She then resumed admiring herself. The stranger hesitated briefly, then left. But the encounter had made Josette jumpy. A guy had actually tried to “pick her up.” That a college-age dude had the eye for Loren Meford was such a ridiculous idea that she almost laughed.

Then, taking a deep breath, Josette left the shop. 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 to assist her to her feet. Mortified, the girl thanked them and hurried away. 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 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 that clueless, or merely playing a trick?

Josette suddenly wanted to get out of people's sight for a while. She scurried into a fast-food place and ordered an orange juice. The boy who served her didn't bother to conceal admiration of 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