Red-eyed from holding back angry tears, Marlene slumped on a bench in the girl's locker room, furiously texting Becca on her hot-pink Swarovski crystal studded iPhone, the official Homecoming King having dumped her for Abbie Bominable less than an hour ago.
Via text.
In front of everyone.
Except for Becca. Instead of backing Marlene up, that bitch was home all coated with (eye roll here) over-the-counter acne cream, ignoring Marlene's texts – all because her stupid mom was paranoid about another shooting - some BFF!
Speaking of BFFs, Mindy, the fat cow, instead of supporting Marlene, was busy stuffing her face on cheap sugar cookies over by the punch bowl while Chet sucked face with RAD freak Abbie Bominable in the photo booth while Daddy and his entourage were off to one side ready to kiss ass and shake hands the second Homecoming crowns were placed on heads on CNN and FOX.
That is, whenever he wasn't checking his watch, kissing RAD ass, or accepting bribes or whatever it was that Daddy did.
Ugh!
Marlene paused mid-text to dab her eyes with a crumpled tissue. The disgusting display of her ex and Abbie Bominable all but mambo number fiving just outside the girl's locker room turned royal dressing room where Marlene could see EVERYTHING, was anything but coincidence.
It wasn't FAIR!
Oh no.
Oh no.
Oh, no, no, no, no… NO!
Marlene just caught a glimpse through the locker room door of Mr. Kujo, the biology teacher, stepping up to the tackily decorated podium. He tapped the mic before saying, "Students, it appears that the elected king is unable to accept his throne," He paused before adding, "So we'll be calling the runner-up to the stand."
Oh God, the runner up.
Marlene froze mid dab, terrified. She'd seen the other candidates for Homecoming King – all write-ins… by people who didn't recognize how important tonight was for her.
Not that they mattered, but their votes, their VOTES, did.
Was it Piss-topher? The shy little boy she used to make fun of in third grade who smelled like pee because of an untreated bladder infection?
It better not be.
Please, please! Don't let it be Beetlejooz, the gross skater kid with zero fashion sense who lived in the shadow of the municipal waste treatment plant… if Marlene didn't know any better, Cleo deNile's dropping out of the race for the Crown early was awfully suspicious.
What if it was that pot-head Narancia who used to live under a bridge or something… thank God he got himself in trouble so he couldn't even be here… but exceptions could be made – Marlene rose, gown rustling, and frantically made sure that the gross werewolf was nowhere to be seen. Beetlejooz, wearing a black and white striped tuxedo with a rumpled pink dress shirt and huge purple bow tie, stuck his head around the door frame and grinned hopefully at her with yellow-green snaggle teeth.
His pale stringy hair was crookedly parted down the middle and he was wearing ripped neon green Converse, and he definitely wasn't wearing socks.
He waggled his eyebrows, snickering.
Let's not talk about that nasty, pubic hair goatee…
Eyes closed, Marlene flopped back down on the bench.
Hard.
Cleo was behind this. She had to be!
Josie mingled with the crowd of partying kids in the gym, lights already too bright and music too loud. She pushed back out into the hallway and sat head down and hyperventilating on a random chair by one of the trophy cases.
She'd passed Clawdine, who looked fabulous but glum: Mista, her date, because he'd been a jackass along with Narancia the day Fugo and Mama got into it, wasn't allowed to attend the Homecoming dance.
Clawdine had been going steady with the big lug for over a month, saying she liked her guys big and hairy, like Aunt Raina when it came to Uncle Mike.
Ew. She could've lived without that information from her great aunt.
Josie didn't mind Clawdine having a boyfriend; she just felt bad her best friend and hair cousin didn't have a date for tonight – Clawdine had made Mista a tie and cummerbund that matched her dress, and now they were going to waste. Good thing Draculaura, who was dating Clawd, Clawdine's littermate, Maggie, Tina, Pink Yellow, and Frankie, who were all going solo, were there to keep Clawdine company while Cleo stood off to the side in an AMAZING gown with Deuce, her boyfriend in a tux, smiling like a cat that had not only eaten the canary, but also the entire pet shop. She expected Josie to stand with them to watch Marlene get crowned Homecoming Queen on big network news. Josie declined, feeling overwhelmed - like her head would explode.
Maybe she should call an uber to come take her home – only she'd forgot and left her phone on the kitchen table. Even though Uncle Mike was here, he was here as a cop. It wasn't like he could drop everything and take her home.
Anyway, Ubers were expensive. She might be able to call Aunt Raina to come rescue her. Only Aunt Raina was on standby for the night as only one of two air ambulance pilots who qualified for night flight. It wouldn't be fair if somebody had a bad car accident and she wasn't there to fly them to the hospital.
Josie would just have to wait it out.
Damn.
Josie leaned back against the wall of steel lockers, fluffy pink dress spread around her. It wasn't one she'd made but a passalong from Draculaura, who said she didn't like how the delicate pink fabric disappeared against her pale skin. However, Josie's medium dark skin positively GLOWED against the powdery gauze, making her look angelic.
Obviously the dress belonged to Josie; fashion never lies.
As for Josie, Josie had liked the dress as seen on TikTok, but the price made it impossible, so she'd bought a pattern and was waiting for the right fabric to come along.
Win!
It even matched Maggie's dress too.
It wasn't the dress that was bugging Josie, but Derrick with the abs to die for.
Last night, during a last minute shift slinging Soft-Serv, she'd learned that Derrick, Derrick's abs and Derrick's golden eyes were reserved for another. He'd come into Daisy's just before closing with a girl that was not only taller than him, but looked like she'd been dipped in orange paint with blonde hair that was perfectly straight like a Barbie doll's.
More pissed off than hurt, Josie served them both without making eye contact as they retreated to a corner to suck face while slurping their fake dairy delights.
Josie wasn't mad at Derrick – it's not like she OWNED him, but at herself. She should've known he wouldn't be interested in an Orchestra dork who played second violin– it wasn't his fault he liked conventional good looks and… ummmm, skin that looked like cheap orange sherbet?
Plus a brainless giggle that felt like sand in peanut butter between your teeth?
And wasn't a RAD.
Fuck!
(How naive could she be?)
The final cherry on top of the dropped singing cupcake was the fact that the chosen girl was not only a cheerleader, but white.
As in, really, really white.
Eyes stinging, Josie absently reached for a loose dreadlock, then remembered she put them up in space buns, wrapping dainty gold chains and jeweled strawberries around them as the Homecoming coronation began in the nearby gym.
No, it wasn't race, or even that Josie could pass as a Normie. No, it was because she wasn't a cheerleader who snapped gum and sneered every time Josie answered a question in Personal Finance when she wasn't "accidentally" putting out her long, skinny Lulu Lemon sheathed leg anytime Josie walked past.
Annoyed with herself, Josie tried to block out the screaming and pounding noises in her head that even the basic noise cancellation installed in her artificial eardrums couldn't combat. She blinked hot, agitated tears back.
That was another thing Josie hated, ruining her makeup over people who barely noticed or cared about her, even on a surface level. A hot tear escaped down her perfectly bronzed cheek and plopped in her newly expanded, embarrassing cleavage that she noticed old men at work leered at.
I want to go home!
She wished Draculaura was here.
It had felt so nice when they'd held hands on summer walks.
But Draculaura wasn't into girls, she just fell off her platform shoes a lot and needed all the steadying she could get.
Josie stood and clenched her fists until her perfectly shaped pink nails dug painfully into her skin. She released, raising her hands before her eyes, forcing herself to look at the rhinestones and strawberry decals she and Maggie had bought together and calmed herself. A Shine formed comfortingly behind her eyes.
There was applause in the gym, echoing down the darkened school hallway. Shoulda listened to Mama and stayed home, even if home meant hiding in the attic or doing homework.
Or being around Mama, who was nastier than usual tonight.
The coronation song blared around her.
This night would never end.
No, surely it wasn't Cleo who'd pulled this crap… Why Cleo had PAID for professional posters, candy bars, and handbills for Marlene run for the crown, not that Marlene needed help. Daddy was loaded… oh, God, NO!
Marlene's panic rose as she thought of any number of horrible people she could be subjected to, squeezing her eyes shut as she sat on the bench closest to the locker room door, awaiting her unwanted consort as the reporters and technicians finished setting up their equipment and took their places.
Please! Please! PLEASE!
"Giorno Giovanna Brando-Joestar?" Kujo said up on the crepe paper festooned platform in the school gymnasium, "Please step up and receive your crown."
"GiGi? Quackers? That twink? Oh God, NO!" Marlene's jaw dropped, remembering how she liked to make fun of the overly groomed sissy on Salem's last real Halloween night after seeing the gangly blonde werewolf and his parents handing out candy dressed as Bert and Ernie, complete with sweater vests, with him as a rubber duck in… neon orange… tights... and matching flippers… no no no NO!
Then there were the countless times she'd put GiGi in his place back in Montessori kindergarten – he'd been such a crybaby his fathers pulled him OUT of the exclusive day school and home-schooled him… which meant not only was GiGi over-groomed, he-was-WEIRD!
"Cleo deNile, you uni-browed, mustachioed brown bitch— this is all your fault!" Marlene snarled as Giorno awkwardly lugged a beribboned basket (Oh God, really?) up the stairs towards the thrones, world in slow motion as dowdy Mrs. Goode placed the crown on his lacquered hair.
King crowned, the audience turned to face the back of the gym where Marlene stewed in the girl's locker room. Waiting.
Waiting for her.
Betrayed or not. Marlene was still Queen.
Which meant she deserved a crown.
And to get that crown, Marlene had to leave the locker room.
Marlene rose, adjusted her gown and hair, hurled her fistful of damp, shredded tissues at the nearest trash can (missing), and regally swept from the girl's locker room of Merston High while the world watched the first openly trans Homecoming Queen claim her rightful throne.
She'd deal with Cleo deNile later.
You know what? He ain't worth it!
Catwalking with angry confidence, green and purple lights strobing overhead, making everyone dance in a sea of neon – Josie entered the gymnasium to Jimi Hendrix's Purple Haze. She brushed her breezy strawberry dress off in one sharp movement, face hard as she almost danced around crowds of gyrating students and technicians packing away their gear, the world reeking of sweat and too much Axe, guitar snarling and squealing, the backbeat complimenting her heart as Hendrix sang about a hazy brain.
"Purple haze all up in my brain! Lately things haven't seemed the same!"
Josie pushed past and was slammed into by none other than Derrick Diaz.
"Oop, sorry!"
"It's good." Josie said with a slick, fake smile through gritted her teeth, trying not to let herself bite and spit venom. He wasn't worth it.
Derrick's girlfriend cocked her perfectly ironed out blonde head, grinning, a "look" in her eye that said, "Ha-ha, I'm a cheerleader and you're NOT!"
Josie ignored it. Yeah, like waving cheap plastic pom poms around actually took talent!
"Actin' funny, but I don't know why!" Hendrix exclaimed as a faint whiff of cinnamon among the sweat and musk of the crowd began teasing her, Average white bitch forgotten Josie pushed free, strutting through the crowd on pink platforms styled to look like bedazzled ballet slippers crossed with combat boots, "'Scuse me while I kiss the sky!" Jimi, who had been a RAD hidden in plain sight, howled as Josie marched forward, the scent of cinnamon becoming stronger as sweat dripped off the backs of popular girls with slowly frizzing hair and boys with too bright grins while Homecoming Royalty watched over all from cheap cardboard thrones.
The Shine behind her eyes glimmered and shook, reflecting Josie's erratic mood as she pushed past Abbie Bominable grinding on Chet, rolling her eyes in a haughty disdain she'd never had before as Jimi dissolved into pleas of 'Help me!'
God, how cheap can you get, Abbie?
As Hendrix begged, Josie strutted, watching the meeker nerds awkwardly gravitate towards the back of the gym.
How amusing.
Finally, she found an oasis where no one was dancing, grinding, or really doing much of anything.
"Purple haze all up in my eyes, uuh." Jimi grunted – a few kids were exchanging spit by the bleachers, while another group played Uno within sight of the open doors that looked out over the empty playing field down the hill where the school had, as usual, lost.
The Shine at first seemed interested in leaving, and then told Josie to stay put.
"Don't know if it's day or night."
Fugo stood framed by the dark with his back to her.
He'd been suspended for fighting, even if it was with Mama.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
"Ya got me blowin', blowin' my mind." Jimi growled, his guitar barely keeping up, as Fugo turned, pulled on his Juul, head slowly easing back, eyes hooded in as steam stained purple and green poured from his mouth and nostrils with a contented groan lost in the psychedelic cacophony of a long dead RAD channeling the music of the universe through a battered white Fender Stratocaster strung upside down engulfing them both.
Fuck that.
Suspended or not, strawberry blonde and the scent of cinnamon plus the ability to sight read just about any piece of music put in front of him trumped Barbie shit for brains and abs to die for.
Drowning, Josie bore down on Fugo, "no" not in her vocabulary.
Fugo's eyes widened, and then, pocketing the Juul, he grinned.
Just the way Josie liked it.
"Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me!"
Sitting next to Marlene on their painted cardboard thrones, Giorno blushingly proffered a floral crown from the basket he brought with him, "This would look better on you than that cheap rhinestone tiara from last year." he yelled over Jimi's howls, "The ribbons on this one match your dress – I saved it for you!"
"Thanks." Marlene tried ignoring GiGi's three forehead curls layered just right so that his golden locks tapered into a neat braid between his shoulders blades, but she just couldn't.
What guy wears their hair like this in public?
Still, Marlene took the floral creation without looking him in the eye. Instead, she studied his feet in their big, awkward dress shoes, at his pink dress pants, eyes nervously trailing up his sleeved arm, reluctantly passing the heart shaped cut-out on his chest where the beginning of a werewolf's ruff was beginning to sprout.
The bright candy pink of his suit clashed with her dusty pink illusion dress by PromGirl.
How tacky.
Marlene felt like bursting into tears – oh God, Daddy would love the fact that GiGi had two dads and make her date the effeminate werewolf just for a few extra lousy votes from the progressives!
Anyway, werewolf or not, the thought of dating someone rumored to be bi, stung. Bi or not, would GiGi see her biology or her gender? Worse, he was a Freshman! Gross!
Marlene pleadingly looked down at Daddy where he and his entourage stood surrounded by microphones, waiting to congratulate the new Queen and King.
Daddy returned the look with interest: The world is watching. Kiss, hold hands, whatever, or that full transition I promised you as a graduation gift won't happen.
Marlene sniffled, holding back tears as she grabbed Giorno's hand. He jumped, startled, making his own floral crown tip over one eye. Before he could adjust it himself, Marlene pushed it back into place, beauty queen smiling like she did at every campaign rally and photo-op. If this was how Daddy was gonna play the game, then she should at least look good in the process. Attempting to twist her face into a bigger smile than before, Marlene leaned into Gigi, even as she began to sweat, anticipating a messy freshman kiss.
"Hey, so, like," He whispered, squirming, "I don't really like girls. To be honest, I don't even like boys."
"Why are you telling me?" Marlene hissed through clenched, whitened teeth. Daddy gave her a subtle nod – go ahead, finish it.
Or else.
"Just wanted to let you know." Giorno said, blushing, "I know what you're dad's like."
Marlene blinked, fatherly approval forgotten… had Gigi with his ridiculous hair and even more ridiculous suit just give her an out?
"Actually, you're the first person I've told." He shifted around on the metal folding chair pretending to be a royal throne, "I don't know what the guys in the pack would say."
"Oh my GAWD!" Relieved, Marlene punched his arm, laughing, "You're such a DORK!"
"Jeez, I get it! I get it!" Giorno said, "You've hated me since kindergarten. No need to pound it in"
"No," Marlene said, "Just playing around. This entire situation's crazy!"
"Ohthankgod."
"I think I like your crown better." Marlene said, placing Giorno's present on her head over the tiara before putting her arms around his neck, posing and smiling for the cameras, hissing, "Now, just smile and wave so we can pretend this never happened come Monday."
Marlene's father beamed as down on the crowded gym floor he fielded questions from the various media outlets.
She would get her surgery after all.
And she'd get Cleo deNile, too.
It was all a matter of time.