"This feels weird," Pamela Manson complained, poking the pile of black clothes.
"You promised," her daughter said. "If you want me to try that on—" Sam gestured at a bright dress laid over a chair, "then you get to have a taste of what it's like to be me."
Pam hemmed and hawed a bit, but she had promised. She and Sam took their respective outfits, heading somewhere private to change.
Sam's mom returned first, looking at herself in the mirror. Sam followed soon after. They stared, sizing each other up.
Pamela Manson looked different. Her daughter had provided a dark, silky dress that was made to shimmer. Pam's normal white gloves were gone, replaced with long leather ones; she even had a pair of stylized combat boots, with just enough of a platform heel to tower over all who would oppose her.
Sam stared, keeping herself from letting her jaw drop. Her mother looked good. She'd even found a black wig somewhere, pinned up in thick coils; a single red streak ran through it, like a swirl of blood into water.
"I thought you'd look—" she said, before she could stop herself.
As Sam hesitated, her mother smiled, took her by the shoulder, and led her in front of the mirror; and Sam saw herself.
She'd put on the dress, the color of a summer sunset. The gloves too, and the jewelry. Still… something was missing.
Pamela rooted around in a drawer and handed Sam an orange wig, the same color as Pam's own dyed hair.
Sam slipped it on, looked at her reflection, and immediately froze.
"Hi, Mom…" she sheepishly said to her mirror self. When Sam didn't get an answer back, she got bolder.
"Hey, Pammykins!" she said, glancing to where her mom stood in all her gothly glory. Sam gestured at herself. "We got you this dress, because we think you need to blend in with us forever."
"Ohhhh noooo!" Pam said, waving her hands. "But how will I ever shock my parents and all my friends by showing off how edgy I am?!" She bared her teeth; she was wearing vampire fangs. A set that Sam hadn't given her.
When did she get those? Sam wondered. They looked custom-fit. "Don't worry, Pammykins," Sam said, smiling to show off the fangs she'd brought and worn, "we're all vampires here."
Sam's mom stared at her for a few seconds, then cracked up laughing. Sam couldn't stop herself; a moment later, she was chuckling just as hard as her mother.
Pam folded her daughter in a hug; for once, Sam didn't struggle. Softly, Pamela said, "I'm sorry we've been… distant. Just remember: people present the images they do for a reason."
In the hug, Sam smiled.
"I will."
Halloween
Danny and Tucker, both resplendent in their costumes, stepped into the Manson mansion.
"I still don't get it," Tucker said. "How did Sam convince her parents to have a party here?"
Danny shrugged, pointing at the couple standing at the far end of the room. "Who cares? We're here, and Sam got it through somehow." He and Tucker waved, as the woman in the flowery dress came over to meet them.
"Hi, Mrs. Mans—"
Danny suddenly realized whose face was above the floral print.
"—Sam?!"
Danny and Tucker quickly huddled, whispering.
"—she's not possessed. I'm sure of it!"
"Then what? Has she been replaced by a space alien? A clone?"
"You read too many comic books—"
Sam Manson looked over at her mother, once again in vampiric splendor.
They smiled.