Tiktok posted by user coconutcreme a week ago.
Caption: Well, I tried.
Transcript:
Camera user, a girl, approaches a large Italian Werewolf in a cropped sweater and a beanie; "Can I have a peppermint?"
"Here's a quarter. Go ask Narancia to walk you to the station, I'm busy."
She approached another boy, a short Italian/Latino werewolf with a headband and an Aerosmith tee; "Can I have a peppermint?"
"Yoooooo, we should get Skittles at Circle K! I like Skittles, peppermint gum's shit, but let's go! Like, right now!"
Approaching another, one in a green sweater with messy blond hair and asked, "Can I have a peppermint?"
He handed her a wrapped lozenge and said, "It's this or a Juul Pod."
"ummmm…Thanks?"
And finally, one in a turtleneck with highly styled hair; "Can I have a peppermint?"
He turned, grinned, and answered, "You can have a peppermint!"
"That's too hot for me! Bleh!"
"Hey!"
"Ah!"
And they continued their call and response game.
The video went unnoticed. No comments, three shares, and twelve likes.
Josie found herself in a girl's room, with beige walls and a white painted iron frame bed and pink pillows with posters of people Josie vaguely recognized plastered everywhere including the ceiling.
Still, it felt familiar, even comforting. Maybe it was the lighting?
The white painted wooden door clicked open, a sopping wet girl in nothing but a towel stepped in. After closing the door behind her, she began drying off.
Blushing, Josie turned and tried not to think about it too much. She was, after all, the one invading.
A train whistled in the distance as the girl walked past her, hair messy from where she'd towel dried, in nothing but her bra and a pair of lace trimmed panties. The girl sat down on the bed, sprayed her hair with something that smelled like peaches, and started detangling it with a pink comb after stepping into a pair of hot pink and lime green sweatpants only a fitness buff from thirty or more years ago could wear publicly, before returning to her spray bottle and comb at a mirror.
Josie studied the shaved side of the girl's head as she leaned into the boudoir mirror with an intense pout of concentration.
This girl was familiar.
Josie looked over her shoulder at the shelf of carefully arranged stuffed rabbits with the Phantomhive Black Label tags hanging from their floppy left ears. Funny these expensive luxuries being here, considering how well-used everything else in the room looked. Josie approached a poster, trying to place the singer.
Cyndi Lauper, next to that poster, Billie Idol, then the classic shot of Jimi Hendrix Uncle Mike put up in the garage. A stack of records, the top a Fleetwood Mac vinyl and KISS's album, 'Asylum'.
Who was this girl? These were albums she remembered Aunt Raina and Uncle Mike owning until they got broken to bits in the move from Hawai'I to Idaho.
Josie spied a ice cream stained shirt on a desk and gasped, recognizing the bright green color and the logo. She lifted it and held her breath. It was her uniform for shifts at Daisy's. The shirt under it was a plain black polo. She flipped it over, feeling like she was underwater.
Josie gasped, the smiling face of a cartoon bear grinned up at her. Freddy Fazbear? Freddy Fazbear's went out of business years ago! How could this girl have a brand new uniform shirt for it?
The girl turned, "Hm?"
Josie let in a sharp breath, terrified of being seen.
The girl shrugged and went back to brushing her hair as if Josie wasn't literally within reach of her.
Josie rushed to the window and thrust the handmade curtains back, brow furrowing in alarm.
"I'm not in Oregon anymore, am I?"
A deep gold and red forest rolled away from the house over an endless hard blue sky. A boxy truck, similar to Mista's, rumbled up the gravel driveway.
Josie turned to see the girl sitting on the bed with a loud, angry squeak from the bedsprings. The girl stared blankly down at the hoodie in her hands.
It was a the Merston high hoodie she'd customized with some cute patches she'd swapped Clawdeen's four yards of red lace and a box of gold buttons shaped like roses for.
"Hey, that's…" Josie gasped in outrage as the girl rose with another complaint from the bedsprings to come face-to-face with her after pulling the shirt on, "That's MY hoodie!"
And finally, she saw the girl's full, bare face.
Black, almond eyes set over high, sharp cheekbones and a strong face. And a familiar nose.
No, not just the nose.
The little blonde was the same height, same shirt, and so painfully familiar.
"Oh my God," Josie sat up in bed, wide eyed and confused, "You're me!"
It was 2 a.m.
Tina couldn't wait for school to be over for the day: after looking back at how she'd reacted during the shooting incident, by being calm, cool, and collected when everybody else in the class panicked, she'd decided it was time to take that courage and audition for the role of Ophelia in the upcoming school production of "Hamlet".
She'd already memorized Ophelia's part between selling customers gas and Skittles at the Circle K up the street after school. That, and she already made a lavish gown made from a room's worth of perfectly good red velvet drapes with gold satin fringe that somebody wastefully sent to the municipal landfill.
She'd found this fashion bonanza and a blonde Halloween wig while looking for enough matching china plates, cups, and silverware for her and her friends (Well, Puck. But like Mama said, you can't have all the friends in the world!) to use in the cafeteria because Styrofoam trays and plastic forks are as gauche as they are bad for the environment.
Tina slipped the flyer one of the theatre kids had given her last week from between the pages of her AP Literature notebook and read it again, "Open Casting Call" – this meant that ANYBODY could audition.
Which meant that ANYBODY could be IN THE PLAY.
ANYBODY - Including Tina.
This was gonna be sooooooo cool!
Puck sat bored in the back row of AP English Lit, listening to some ugly, overdressed chick with a dick drone on and on about Catcher in the Rye.
Boring! Buh-buh-buh-buh-boring!
Even though she had no need to eat, Puck pulled out the crumpled remains of a jumbo bag of Skittles she'd bought yesterday while hanging out with Tina at the Circle K when everybody else thought she was working at her fictional after school job.
Puck chewed a Skittle, savoring the artificial colors and flavors with a smirk. Tina ran the register at the Circle K after school and let her have her employee's discount, which was cool.
Sharp teeth bared in a nasty, rainbow grin, Puck sat up in her seat…well, well, well… if it wasn't weird-o Pannacotta Fugo in his prissy suit and tie sitting in front of her taking notes or whatever.
God, What a sweaty loser – couldn't even smoke REAL cigarettes, sucking all the time on a JUUL like some diaper-baby on a binky, ever growing half circles of sweat under his arms even if the room was freezing… bet he sweated so hard a teacher slipped in it – and her other bet was that's why he got kicked out of private school!
And his name, Pannacotta. Who the hell names their kid after a weird tasting Christmas cake from Wal-Mart?
Puck flicked a damp red Skittle at the back of Fugo's deliberately messy head.
Plink!
Pit-Stain's shoulders rose to his ears.
With a mean giggle, Puck flicked a green one at him.
Plink!
Pit-Stain turned around, ears bright red, snarling, "Cut it out."
Ears flattening, Puck stuck out her rainbow tongue.
"Is there something you need to tell the class, Fugo?" Ms. Morgandorffer said from her desk.
"No." Pit-Stain turned away, and sullenly added to his notes.
Puck still couldn't understand why people were afraid of the dude. He was just a strawberry blond werewolf (If he was, where was his ruff?) with a stupid name that Josie liked.
Heh. Heh. Heh. Josie…
Puck deliberately flicked another Skittle at Josie's little boyfriend, hitting him between the shoulder blades.
Plink!
"That's it, I've had enough!" Pit-Stain rose, slamming his fists on the desk with a loud bang.
Everybody turned and stared, even Marlene from the front of the class, mid report.
Pit-Stain sank down, obviously hating the attention.
Puck looked over at Josie as Marcus, a dude pretending not to be a dude when clearly he was, said, "Fugo, do you have any questions?"
"Yeah, of course he does Marcus," Puck jeered, "Why ya dressed like that, MARCUS?"
"Puck, my name's Marlene!" Marlene said. "And it has been for a while."
Puck smirked, "You don't look like a Marlene to me, and never will. Not with that flat ass and Adam's apple!"
Shocked, Josie put her hand over her mouth as the other students turned and stared at Puck. Points scored, Puck smiled, basking in the glory of publicly calling out the biggest poser in the room, Marcus, the self-made Queen of Mean!
"Puuuuck, how could you be so mean?" Josie hissed, "That's her deadname!"
"Puck, go to the office." Ms. Morgendorffer said flatly, adding. "Marlene, continue."
Face red, Marlene falteringly resumed her presentation.
Puck gathered her things, preparing to leave. Maybe she'd go to the office, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd go to the first floor girl's restroom and light up a joint. And if Uncle Mike… oooooh, what's that? Puck's fingers found a handful of sticky, fuzzy Skittles in the pocket of her bomber jacket… might as well go out with a bang… after dribbling spit into them, she casually poured them down the back of Pit-Stain's green jacket collar, only to learn why nobody fucks with Pannacotta Fugo.