Special THANKS go out to Thomas Mikkelsen and Nemo Blank for their patience and assistance in beta reading these stories!
Fashion Hell
by Stacy Rowe
(translated by: Steven A. Brown)
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it wasn't stormy, at least not yet. But it was dark. There were plenty of storm clouds to make sure of that. I could tell how dark it was instantly as Tiffany's room had a west view and instead of a nice sunset it was pitch black outside.
I turned my gaze from the window back to the meeting. It was the last Fashion Club meeting. The very last. We were doing this as a summary to wrap it up in case someone else ever wanted to follow in our footsteps. As usual, I was taking the notes.
But then… there was a noise from downstairs. An odd noise. I looked around. Sandi was going on about what she was going to do with her summer and the types of clothes she thought we should all wear to make her look good.
But the noise came back. A thump, thump noise. I heard a creak from the stairs. Getting up off the floor where we were all sitting, I walked over to the door and opened it slightly. Someone was on the stairs!
It couldn't be Tiffany's parents – they were gone for the night. I knew I should have told Sandi or Quinn – maybe even Tiffany that someone was coming up the stairs. I was just about to when I caught site of him. It was Jeffy, padding softly up the carpeted flight of stairs. He noticed me looking at him and smiled.
He must have been coming for Quinn. Maybe had a surprise for her.
"Hi," I whispered, not wanting Quinn to catch on.
Jeffy got to the top of the stairs and came over to the door. "Hi, Stacy," he said.
"Do you want me to go get Quinn?" I asked.
"No."
"Tiffany?"
"No," he replied, putting his hand on mine.
"Not… Sandi?"
"No," he caressed the back of my hand with his fingers. "I came to talk to you."
"Me?"
"Of course. I've had my eye on you all year, and…"
"STACY!" Sandi barked. "Didn't you hear what I said?" she fumed.
I blinked back at her, diverting my gaze away from the black clouds outside. Rapidly blinking the image out of my head, I said, "Um… no, sorry. I was just thinking of… um, fashion trends."
"Well, I'm SURE we wouldn't MIND having your attention back with us on this historic occasion," Sandi sneered.
"All the more reason to take official notes," I said under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Sandi, nothing." It was all I could do to take down more notes on Sandi's rambling thoughts as she continued to drone on and on. Notes that no one would ever read, much less care about.
*****
An hour later the meeting broke up. It was the last one I'd ever have to take notes on again! I was feeling so good I didn't even give a hoot to the way Sandi had dismissed my ideas during the meeting. After all, what could I have done about it then – she was president and all. But now… now was different. There was no more Fashion Club.
Night had fallen on Lawndale a while back and looking at my watch, I was shocked to see the time. I was supposed to be home a half hour ago. Oh, man, I was going to be in trouble if my parents ever found out.
Quinn was in the lead as we made out way down the stairs. She had that natural bounce that people seemed to gravitate to and that Sandi couldn't emulate. She grabbed her rain coat and opened the front door. It was almost as if on cue that a red car showed up and Joey and Jeffy got out and ran up to the door.
"Hey, Quinn, you need a ride anywhere?" Joey asked.
Jeffy pushed him aside. "Yeah, Quinn, you need to go anywhere?"
"Where's Justin?" Quinn asked.
"Jamie," I corrected.
"Whatever."
"Um, he couldn't make it," Joey supplied.
"So now you only have to decide between the two of us!" Jeffy also supplied, happy at the thought of not having to deal with Jamie.
Quinn sighed and her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "Okay, I need a lift home. Who wants to take me?"
"Me!" yelled Joey.
"ME!" yelled Jeffy, throwing Joey to the ground.
"I said it first!" Joey replied, kicking Jeffy's leg in so he also fell to the ground.
The two combatants fell upon each other and soon enough, Joey got in a lucky punch and Jeffy went down for the full 10 seconds it took Joey (a bleeding smile showing his victory) to escort Quinn to his car. I couldn't see what they were fighting over as Jeffy then got up and Joey helped him into the backseat since they'd arrived in the same car.
I guess they were fighting over to see who sat in the back seat, away from Quinn.
I watched them drive off. Sigh. No one bled for her. Like I needed them to bleed anyway. Blood on my clothes? Eeeeewwwwwwww. Still, it would have been nice.
Sandi opened the driver's door on her car. "Tiffany, you want to go to the mall?" she asked.
"Suuuurrrrrreeee, Sandi."
"Good. Make sure to bring along your mother's credit card."
"Ooookkkaaaaayyyyyy," Tiffany drawled.
"Um, Sandi," I started. "I can't go to the mall with you. I need to get home."
"That's good, Stacy," Sandi sneered. "Because I don't recall inviting you along. You ready, Tiffany?"
"Yeeeeaaaahhhhh, surrrrreeee. Where are we going again?"
"Do you mind dropping me off at home, Sandi?"
"Like, where's your car, Stacy?"
"At home. You came by and picked me up earlier today, remember?"
"Sorry, Stacy, but I can't take you home as it's out of the way and I have my reputation to think of and shopping that needs being done." And with that, she drove off.
I watched her taillights fade in the distance. In a quiet voice, I said, "But my home is on the way to the mall."
Oh well, it wasn't as if this hadn't happened before. I simply needed to hoof it home from Tiffany's. It wasn't so bad, I thought, setting out. It was still early evening, even if storm clouds were moving closer. The lightning was still some distance off. It was only a mile or so to walk. I was sure Sandi had more important things to do than drop me off at home.
I'd ask her that in school on Monday. She always had a good reason for what she did.
Awww, who was I kidding? I needed new friends.
Fat raindrops started hitting my head and I started jogging, heedless of the perspiration problems excessive exercise gave. Lightning flashed again, this time much closer. I cut through a small park on her way home. I was getting wet. This probably wouldn't have happened if I'd only listened to Sandi and went shopping.
Lightning flashed several times in the sky. The crack-boom of thunder could be heard coming closer, the time between the lightning and the thunder shrinking. That meant the storm was getting closer.
The park I was cutting through wasn't very big – just large enough to plant a lot of trees, have some swings, and a small parking lot near the east side. Lightning came again and this time struck a tree branch, exploding it off the rest of the tree. The branch was on the path I was walking and about 40 feet in front of me. The light was blinding and the noise deafening.
I was sent to the ground by the concussive force of the blast. It sounded like a really loud gunshot, I mused. Rain came much more forcefully, not content on just getting me a little wet, it wanted to thoroughly drench her. I knew my hair was long past salvage-ability now. I was going to need a shower once I got home.
I got up off the grass, which was quickly becoming muddy. No sense in letting my clothes become any more soiled than needed, Sandi always said. I went towards the tree. I'd never seen anything like that before. I'd always seen lightning far off, not close by. Mind you, it wasn't something I wanted to experience again. The tree was a little on fire from the lightning but the rain quickly put it out.
Not all of the tree burned or had been blasted by the lightning. The elm had been over 60 feet high with branches shooting out from all directions. The largest branch seemed to take the brunt of the blast. I knew that since it wasn't attached to the rest of the tree anymore, having been sheered off by the zap of the lightning, and was instead laying propped up to the tree ready to fall. It was a good thing I hadn't taken shelter under the tree.
Cautiously, I made my way up to the branch. It was a big one, close to five feet in diameter. Like Sandi would have ever figured that out. I was so fascinated by my almost brush with death that I nearly missed the shiny object shoved in a hollow of the massive branch. Lightning flashed again and there it was, a shiny box.
Heedless of little furry critters which were most likely cooked well done by now anyway, I reached into the tree branch and pulled out the shiny metal box. It looked a little old with rust starting on the corner mingled with some still shiny flat areas, was about a foot long and half that high, and most importantly, it wasn't locked.
Rain still falling on my head, I opened the lid of the box and saw something I'd never seen before. Muck. A whole lot of it. Whatever had been in the metal box had a lot of muck on it now. The rain started filling up the metal box and I let everything drop to the ground, slightly grossed out by the sight of so much muck. But when the next lightning bolt flared a couple miles away, I noticed something in the muck now littering the ground.
It was a shoe. Looking in the box, she saw another shoe. Still encased in some muck, but it was the shape of a shoe!
Using the notebook pages filled with transcripts of numerous Fashion Club meetings, but which were ruined now that they were water logged, I gathered up the shoes. It was a sign. I was sure of it. That, or it was a great way to get rid of the transcripts.
I ran the rest of the way home, ignoring the rain. I ran up the stairs to my room and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Ignoring the soiled club notes, I went about cleaning the shoes. The muck fell right off the leather, as if there were some sort of clear coat protective sealant on it – only, I could feel the leather, not a slick surface. No scotch guard or anything. I cleaned both of them as best I could. They were a silvery-white slip on shoe. I couldn't make out the brand, but I didn't care about that… well, not too much anyway. They were in my size!
I slipped them on. Comfortable. That's what immediately came to mind, and it would to you too if you had to wear fashionable women's shoes that pinched your toes. I looked at myself in the mirror and admired what I saw. Those shoes really did make me look pretty good. I'm sure Sandi would have said something demeaning about them, but… you know, why do I even care what she thinks? She's the one who left me to walk home in the rain.
Oooohhhh, just thinking about it makes me wish I could do something to her!
ZZZZIIIMMMMBBBAAAZZZZZOOOOMMMMBBBBAAAA
The room suddenly filled with smoke. At first I thought the house was on fire, but the smoke quickly cleared, especially when the window was opened to give it someplace to go. The only problem with that was I didn't open it. Once the smoke cleared, I saw a large figure standing next to the window.
"Koff Koff Sorry about the smoke, kid. Occupational hazard," he said.
Oh great, a pyromaniac loose in my house. First Sandi, now this! "Eeep!" I let out before catching myself.
"You're not hurt or anything, are you?" he asked, looking at me.
"Eeep!" Oh, no! What was he going to do to me?!
"You bite your tongue or something?"
"Ee… Who are you and what in the world are you wearing that for?" I asked. It wasn't the fact he was wearing blue jeans rolled up over some black boots, or a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket that got to me. It was the fact he was wearing a black leather cap with goggles on it.
He ignored my pointing finger and said, "I'm the Fashion Fairy of the Silvery Slippers."
"You look more like a jinn."
"It's easier for people to think of me as a Fashion Fairy. The first time I said I was a Fashion jinn, they got confused and asked if I was some kind of liquor. But we're getting off track. I'm here to grant you your three wishes."
"Three wishes?" I replied suspiciously.
"Oh, great. Another one," he muttered. "Yeah, three wishes. You a little hard of hearing? Not four wishes as that is too many. Not just two wishes as that is too few. You get three wishes. Same as anyone who would have found the slippers, cleaned them up and tried them on without knowing who's other feet had been in them."
"Eeeeeeewwwwwwwww."
"Sorry, standard disclaimer for the slippers. Had to say it. So here's the deal, doll-face. You get three wishes. Anything's the limit as long as it's in my power to do it."
"So what can't you do?" I asked.
He grinned at that. "I'll let you know that when we come to it. So whatdaya say? Need a new car? Need a new Edsel?"
"What's an Edsel?"
He looked at me curiously. "Say, what year is it anyway?"
"It's 2002."
"Aw, crap. Stuck in that hole for 48 years. Man, that sucks. Well, no sense crying over deceased customers, I always say."
"Deceased customers?"
"Never mind, baby. So what can I for you? C'mon, I'm itching to use some of that cool mumbo jumbo I always do."
"I'm sorry, but I just can't get into this with you wearing that cap on your head. It's so… ancient, you know?"
He yanked the cap off his bald head. "Better?"
"Yes," I said.
"Fine. Now c'mon, get a-wishing. I've a busy schedule to keep."
"I don't know what to wish for," I admitted.
"Well, you could always go for the downfall of someone. That's pretty popular. Or at least it used to be during the black plague… er, olden times. Good times, good times…" he trailed off.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing. C'mon, there's got to be someone you want to do in, isn't there? Someone you want eyes gouged out, or thrown to the lions in the coliseum?"
"What was that again?"
"Nothing, nothing. Just having a hot flash of nostalgia."
"Well, I do wish that Sandi, Tiffany and Quinn would learn the error of their ways," I said hopefully.
He stopped pacing the room and looked at me with both of his weird eyes. "As powerful as I am, and believe me, I got the power, you still gotta be a little more specific about what it is you want."
I thought about it a little more. "I wish they'd understand what it's like to not be popular!" I wished.
He looked at me again. Then went over to my closet, looked in and snapped his fingers like he just figured something out.
"Got it. Fashion princess. One wish coming up. Zimba-zoomba, and away we go!" He snapped his fingers the same time there was a crack of lightning. Well, the lightning was outside in the rainstorm, but there was lightning!
After a minute I said, "Um, we're still here."
"Yeah?" he replied.
"I thought we were going somewhere."
"Nah, not really. Whatdaya expect? Miracles? Give it some time and invoke my name next time wearing the shoes to get me to come back. Later, toots!" He snapped his fingers again and this time the smoke was back, clouding up the room. I knew instantly that he was gone. It was confirmed by my mother opening the door, causing the smoke to clear.
"Stacy! Have you been smoking in here, young woman?"
"No, mom," I replied.
"Okay, let's have them right now, or you're grounded."
Sighing, I spent the next hour explaining to my mother I wasn't smoking. I only had to take three breath-analyzer tests to prove it. She still didn't believe me. I blamed it all on a faulty wall socket, causing my nightstand lamp to spark. Of course, it didn't help that the lamp still worked.
*****
The next day was a school day. It was far from normal. For one thing, when I walked outside, Joey and Jeffy were waiting for me.
"Hi, guys. What's up? Quinn not ready?"
Joey looked at me as if I'd said something distasteful. "Who? Oh, I get it. You're joking with us, Stacy. Ha, ha. Funny. You nearly had me going there for a moment. Like I'd go out with a loser."
Jeffy laughed with Joey. "Good one, Stacy. You ready to go to school. I'm driving."
"I was here first," Joey pushed in front of Jeffy. "I'm driving her to school."
"Oh no you're not," Jeffy replied.
"Yes I am!"
"No you're not!"
Pow!
Sock!
Bam!
Ooooouuuffff!
Ouch!
Whap!
Slap!
"Hey, that's not fair!"
"Shut up and take this!"
Smack!
Punch!
It was a dream come true. But I still needed to get to school. "Guys? Guys?! First one up off the ground gives me a ride. Break!"
Joey beat Jeffy up by a fraction of a second. He drove me to school. It wasn't as glamorous as I'd thought it would be since I kept having to take the steering wheel from him when he had to grab more tissues to stop his bloody nose. I don't know how Quinn ever managed.
Eventually we made it to school and the day blurred by. I was greeted by everyone in my classes. My teachers thanked me for coming in and brightening up their day. Joey and Jeffy were attentive to my every need – from sharpening my pencil (which kind of ruined it since it was a mechanical pencil) to getting me lunch. It was simply a fantastic day.
After my last class, Joey and Jeffy escorted me back to my locker. I began putting things away when I noticed these three girls walking up the corridor. They stood out as they dressed like hags with the no combing of hair, clothes that looked as if they slept in them (which I came to find out, they did), and all three smelled of something not very pleasant.
But… they looked familiar.
While Joey and Jeffy got into a physical argument as to who was going to get me some star-shaped ice, I went to see who these three girls were. I walked up to them when they stopped at some lockers near mine.
"Hi," I said.
They stopped trying to open the one locker they seemed to share and looked at me. I recognized them! It was Sandi, Tiffany and Quinn! They were dressed in rags and looked terrible.
YES!! Three-points at the buzzer! The winning goal!
"'Scuse us, Stacy," Quinn said meekly. "We won't be around too much longer. I know how our smell makes you set those two ruffians on us."
"Hah?" I asked.
"Stacy," Sandi started, "you're looking exceptionally radiant today. I only wish I could look half as good as you."
Okay, that was more like I wanted.
"Are you going to finish that?" Tiffany asked, pointing to a bag in my locker. I looked at it and remembered it was my lunch from last week.
"No. It's stale. I'll throw it away."
"Dibs!" Quinn barked.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, handing her the bag. Quinn quickly opened it up and started smelling it. Sandi was close by.
Tiffany replied, "You know, Stacy. We're just looking for some food. It's so hard having to look through dumpsters after school."
"Hah?" I asked. "I mean, look through dumpsters?"
Tiffany nodded. "Sure. Ever since all our parents died, our houses burned up, our cars destroyed and our wardrobes burgled, we've been living on the streets since none of our relatives wanted us. You're lucky you're so popular and have parents and clothes and food."
"This wasn't how I wanted things!" Oops, said that out loud. "I mean, why wouldn't any of your relatives want to take you in?"
Sand looked up from the bag. Quinn had already removed the edible portions of it and was dividing it into three equal piles. "They thought we were bad luck. My step-mother's brother took me in but after he was cleaned to the bone by a plague of locusts, his wife threw me out." She paused. "You know, I never did understand how they got into a sealed house in the middle of a snowstorm."
"But don't go pitying us, Stacy," Quinn said, handing out the other portions to Tiffany and Sandi. "We may have to eat other people's trash and live in some cardboard boxes in an alley near Dega street, but that's okay. We're all still alive and that's the greatest treasure of all."
Sandi smiled at Quinn and said, "That, and we're still the best of friends to this day."
Tiffany, Quinn and Sandi engaged in a group hug. They giggled like other normal girl friends. A hand touched my shoulder and elbow. Bemused, I allowed myself to be pulled away from my former three friends by Jeffy and Joey.
Jeffy said, "Stacy, you've got to stop hanging around those three losers. They're bad for your image."
Joey said, "Yeah, Stacy. Do you want me to go beat them up for you?"
Whereupon Jeffy said, "I'll do it if you need me to, Stacy!"
Whereupon Joey said, "It's my idea, so I'll do the beating!"
Jeffy then replied, "Well, I care for Stacy more than you do!"
Joey then replied, "No you don't!"
Jeffy argued, "Yes I do!"
Joey countered, "Let's just let Stacy decide this. Stacy?"
I finally said, "I'll get back to you boys, okay?" Just then Brooke came up. Relief.
"Hi, Brooke. Still looking to join the Fashion Club?" I asked, looking for something nice to say.
Brooke had a confused expression on her face. "The Fashion what? Look, I don't know what kind of head games you're trying to play on me, but the Gruesome Twosome are looking for you. Let's go."
"Who're they?" I asked, closing my locker.
Joey whispered urgently in my ear, "Stacy, don't say that. It'll make things worse."
"You know who they are, Stacy," Brooke said. "You gave them that nickname when they first started coming here. C'mon, guys, let's go." I was led to the cafeteria by Brooke. Joey and Jeffy trailed behind me, acting unusually quiet for a couple of rowdy football players. They had nervous expressions on their faces.
Soon enough, I found myself sitting across from Quinn's sister, Daria, and her friend, Jane. As soon as I sat, Brooke, Joey and Jeffy took off. We were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria and even though it was somewhat populated with the last of the afternoon rush, the tables near us were deserted, as if people were too afraid to sit near this table.
"Where is it, Rowe?" Daria asked while reading a magazine.
"Where's what? And what happened to Quinn?" I asked, looking around at everyone else in the cafeteria. I noticed a lot of curious glances my way, and what I thought were some sympathetic looks.
"Drop the act, Rowe," Jane said, looking at me with her piercing blue eyes.
"What act? What do you want?" What did they want?
"We want our homework. You were supposed to do our homework like I told you to," Daria said.
"What do you mean? What homework? And why me?"
"She acting dumb or is she just that plain stupid?" Jane asked Daria.
Daria replied, "Yes." Then, to me, she said, "You're in serious jeopardy of losing your membership in our club, missy. That could be dangerous. Very dangerous."
"Eeep! I mean, I don't know what you mean."
Daria had an evil glint to her eye as she leaned forward and said, "Just keep in mind that you're only part of our gang because we allow it. Don't mess this chance up again."
"And don't think your looks are going to save you like the last time, Stacy," Jane said, absently flicking a switchblade open and closed again and again.
Daria gave Stacy an absolutely evil grin that went with her evil glint. "We put those other three losers into fashion hell and we can do the same to you anytime. Now you're going to do my homework right now."
"But I've got a date with Joey and Jeffy now," I protested.
"No, Jane and I have a date with Joey and Jeffy now," Daria corrected. "You're working. Got it?"
Feeling some spunk, I stood up and said, "You know, I wish you two would go to hell."
Suddenly, Daria and Jane were gone in a big ball of smoke. I looked down. I was wearing the silvery slippers.
"Oh, crap," I muttered.
*****
Downwards, the two fell. Through a long and dark tunnel, seamless, and constantly moving. Up, down, all around. It was a very bad amusement park ride. Then, a light at the end of the tunnel. They saw it and were racing towards it. The two were dumped out of the tunnel onto a pile of dirty clothes.
Getting a grip, and putting her glasses back on, Daria looked up at the flashing sign above a couple of doors. It read: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter.
"Well, that's pretty ominous," Jane muttered.
"Tell me about it," replied Daria.
The doors opened and a very fashionable man walked up to them, two other strong arms decked out in classic black following. The two strong arms were as wide as they were tall.
"Well, two more recruits, eh? Smashing," said the fashionable man.
"Who're you," Daria demanded, getting up and brushing soiled socks off her shoulder.
"Well, my dear, how should I put this? Delicately? With you, I don't think so. Ah, I have it. Straight to the point would be best. I'm your worst nightmare."
"You mean the one where I trip and fall on a sidewalk and can't stop myself so I land on my face, shoving my front teeth to the back of my throat, blood coming out everywhere?" Jane asked.
Pause.
"Okay, I'm your second worst nightmare," the man quickly said.
Daria started, "You mean, the one where…"
"Look, let's just say for the sake of argument that I'm one of your worst nightmares and get on with this, okay?!!"
"Sure, sure," replied Daria. "Don't get your panties all bunched up."
The man looked carefully at Daria and Jane. "I can see why you two were sent here," he said evenly.
"Where is 'here' anyway?" Daria asked.
"This… is Hades!" he said triumphantly.
Jane's eyes went wide. "You mean, we're in Hell?"
"No, you're in Hades Department Store, in Highland, Texas."
"We are in Hell," Daria replied.
"My name is Lucius Szatin, the store manager, and you two are the new summer interns learning all there is about fashion," he beamed.
"It's still spring," Jane pointed out.
"Semantics, my dear girl. Now, both of you, chop-chop. Time to get to work. I need some employee clothes re-laundered, refolded, and restocked onto the shelves."
*****
I went out with Joey and Jeffy later that night, but my heart wasn't in it so I stood them up at the movie theatre. Sandi would have been proud as it was her classic Ditch-A-Date Move #4. I went home and thought about what happened. It was a lot to digest. I was popular. The scary kids were gone. I needed to be more careful with my wishes.
After all, I only had one more remaining.
The next few days went by quickly, although I noticed a recurring theme. Joey and Jeffy waited for me in the morning and usually beat themselves up. I went to school, was greeted by everyone and made conversation that everyone listed to, some even taking notes. Weird. I did start to notice some of the other kids give me strange looks once word got out that I was the last to see Daria and Jane around school.
I did hear a rumor that depicted me as having killed them and stuffing their bodies in a shallow grave. I ignored them. Unfortunately, someone else finally heard all this and came looking for me.
I was at my locker after lunch, the J's were elsewhere – looking for a soda now – when Quinn came up.
"Stacy?" she asked. The other two weren't with her. She looked even worse than last time I'd seen her.
"What's up, Quinn?" I asked civilly, hurrying to get my books ready for next period.
"Sniff I'm hoping you could help me. Have you seen my sister, Daria? Sob She and her friend, Jane, have disappeared."
"I wasn't there," I said quickly. "I didn't see anything."
Quinn started to lose it anyway. Her sniffling increased to all-out bawling. "Boo-hoo-hoo!" she boo-hooed. She came in for a hug, but I kept her at arm's distance. The reason: the smell. Phew!
"C'mon, Quinn, buck up."
"Bwah-hah-hah," she wailed.
"That's the spirit," I attempted to give her some encouragement because, let's face it, she wasn't stopping with the waterworks at all.
"Bwah-hah-hah," she continued. "If anything's happened to my sister, I don't know what I'll do!"
"I heard she kicked you out of your house," I said.
"Sniff That's true, it was a lean year on the streets. But Daria's always been there for moral support! Bwah-hah-hah!"
"I'm sure she's okay, Quinn. It's not like she's going to leave town in order to fashion model mu-mu's or anything."
"Great idea, Stacy. I'll pass it on," the Fashion Fairy whispered to me. I whacked my shoes together to get him to shut up.
"Sniff You think she's okay, Stacy? Thanks, I needed that. If I lost my sister, I don't know what I'd do."
"Get a shower?" I asked without realizing it.
Quinn didn't hear my question. "She was the one who kept me going after my parents died. Sniff Sorry for taking up your valuable time, but… thanks."
Quinn took off and I watched her move down the hall. After she was gone from sight, I thought I'd feel better, but I didn't. Instead, I had this nasty conviction that I needed to set things right. I didn't want to, but I had to.
*****
I got a ride home from school (which Joey paid for with a fat lip) and immediately went to my room. I locked my door (the "smoking" encounter with my mother taught me to lock it from now on) and said, "Okay, Frank, we need to talk."
No answer.
"Fashion Fairy?"
POOOOOOFFFFFF!
"Koff Koff" I coughed, waving my hand to clear the smoke. It didn't work, so I opened the window and got it out a few minutes later.
"What's up, kid?" Frank asked, lazing on my bed.
"Um… it's about Daria and Jane," I started.
"Oh, you want to know what's going on with them? Great idea, sending them away. I hooked them up with an old friend of mine. You should see what he's got them doing now. It's priceless." He grinned at me.
"Are they okay?" I asked.
"Well…" he started. "Let's put it this way. Right now those two are dealing with 20 precious pre-schoolers screaming, crying and otherwise running around an employee day care. I tell you, Szatin always loved making newbies fill in for the regular providers. Oh, that's good. Jane's chasing two of the little rug-rats who keep stopping only long enough to spray her with a tube of paint."
"How do you know all this?"
"It's complicated."
"Magical stuff, huh?"
"No, not really. Szatin's got the place hardwired with camera's. I'm watching everything through this little remote TV, see?" he said, showing me the TV. Sure enough, Daria and Jane looked alive. Covered in paint and goo, but alive.
"Uh, look, Frank. Fashion Fairy. Whatever. I think I made a mistake wishing them to Hell like that."
"Yeah, so?" he asked, watching his hand-held TV.
"I'd like to get them back. Please?"
"Sorry. No can do. Szatin's got hold of them now. Proprietary claim and all that. How about a nice dress instead?"
"No, I need them back."
"Who put that idea in your head? Those two were losers."
"Look, they're related to my best friend, okay?"
"One of those losers is your friend?"
That's it. No more Miss Nice Girl. "Look, buster. Just because we weren't getting along like you thought doesn't mean we weren't friends. Nor does it make her a loser."
"And yet you wished them all that unhappiness? Some friend you are."
"You know, I don't need this. I don't need your harping nasties on me. Anymore, I wish I'd never joined the fashion club in the first place! That way I wouldn't have walked home from Tiffany's during last week's storm or found the shoes containing you!
"Oy, the words you say. And to think of all the nice things I've done for you. Oh well, your wish…"
RUMMMBBBLLEEEE!!
Lightning flashed through the rain. A loud thunderclap sounded in the distance. The storm was heading out of Lawndale, to the west.
I slowed down from the power walk I was on a few blocks from home. The rain still came down in sheets and I had the muck-covered shoes wrapped in useless fashion notes tucked under my arm. I didn't slow down from being tired or sore. I slowed down to reflect over my latest fantasy.
None of my wishes were working out, I thought. It didn't take long to realize that I still got the short end of the stick on these, even though I was the one controlling the wishes. Deep down, I knew that even if I wished for Quinn to end up in a horrible car accident, one that would leave a nasty scar on her nose, it would probably backfire and make her even cuter.
So what if there wasn't any good outcome? What would I do? I looked down at the shoes under her arms. I guess the first thing I could do was to figure out if there was a fashion fairy to begin with – but anymore, that didn't seem very probable. That was just wishful thinking on my part.
After all, who was I kidding? These were just some old shoes put in a tree. They certainly didn't represent a hiding place for something called a fashion fairy.
Dammit!
Why did I let Sandi walk all over me the way she did? Or Quinn?! It was high time for me to grow up and understand that some things couldn't be changed – like Sandi's grasp for the latest fashion trends that I tell her about.
It would have been nice to have someone on my side for once, to think of me first and not kick me out into the rain. But …there was no such think as a Fashion Fairy.
The wind was still howling and the rain still coming down, but the drops had lessened in intensity as I walked home. I went up the driveway, then the adjoining sidewalk to the front doors and let myself in. The house was dark as my parents were still out and my brother and sisters were at the sitters. In a way, I was glad none of them were there – I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone at that moment.
I went to my room, stripped down and took a hot shower to get the chill out. Twenty minutes later, I left the bathroom, fuzzy robe with fluffy slippers on and took another look at the mucky shoes. Figuring I went to all the trouble of bringing them home, I then spent the next 30 minutes cleaning them up.
Other than a little staining, they were a set of ladies size 7 bowling shoes. Figures. With a half smile, I murmured, "So much for the Fashion Fairy."
I sat down on her bed and looked around the room, thinking. An idea was stuck in my head that I couldn't get rid of. Besides, why should I? I'd put it there. Fashion trends that I tell Sandi about – hmmmm.
An idea blossomed. Smiling, I reached for the phone.
*****
Monday. Springtime. The day was nice, cool and most importantly, not overcast with clouds shooting lightning. It was a wonderful day to have a picture taken.
I walked into school and headed for my locker. I walked past a few people I knew and they waved – then stopped, a shocked expression on their faces. Each and every one had given me the once over like they always did. I had on a powder blue top and tan slacks. My hair was pulled back into a single ponytail. That didn't cause them to stop waving. No, it had something to do with my shoes, I believe. I had walked in wearing the bowling shoes, now cleaned of muck, sanitized (you never know who or what had their feet in it last), and buffed.
Sandi noticed me right away and took a scowling approach to this flagrant disrespect of fashionism. "Like, Stacy, what's with the shoes? You did know we're having our pictures taken for the yearbook today, didn't you?" You know, I'd never noticed how she managed to make a question sound like a verbal attack before.
"What do you mean, Sandi?" I asked.
"Where's your bowling ball, Stacy?" she replied.
"Oh, you mean my shoes. I'm sorry, I thought you knew. I've been reading some articles in Waif saying that bowling shoes were all the rage in the 1950's and that they were making a retro come back into the fashion scene. It said that everyone who was anyone in the fashion circles were starting to wear them."
Sandi had a perplexed grimace on her face. That truthfully could have meant anything from she was thinking to she had to go to the girl's bathroom but didn't want to admit it.
"You remember me telling you about this, right Quinn?" I asked.
Quinn, who had been talking with Joey and Jeffy, looked over to me and replied, "Um, yeah, right. Of course. How could I forget? You were pretty vocal about it."
The class bell rang.
"We'll talk about this later, Stacy," Sandi said, hurrying off to class. It was only after she left that I remembered her classroom was in the opposite direction.
The end.
Location: History 363.
Time: Now.
Nick: Discussion. Amy? Austin? Tell me about Stacy Rowe.
Amy: I think she was smart. I only researched her life up through high school and Austin took it from post graduation, but I think she was smart.
John: Way to get out of extra work, dude.
Austin: Whatever.
Elizabeth: He'd screw your research up, huh?
Amy: That's what I pretty much thought.
Bob: I think those two are having a chemical reaction.
Colin: Yeah. It's called loathing, Bob.
Bob: It's still a reaction.
Nick: People. We're getting off track here. Amy, why'd you think Stacy was smart? I have her transcripts in front of me. They reflected an average student.
Amy: I thought she was smart just from what I read in the story. True, it reflects some hopes she had and isn't as well written as some of the other author's, but it still showed a flair for style.
Nick: Example.
Amy: The biggest example was at the end. Her story had her finding some magical shoes that weren't magical at all. Yet she still managed some magic. I think you'll understand when you see the following. Loading…now.
The electronic blackboard flickered to life.
BEGIN VIDEO
April 2002.
Location: Lawndale High, classroom. Time: afternoon.
Inside the classroom are Quinn, Sandi and Tiffany. They can all be seen wearing bowling shoes. The door opens and Stacy comes in with a large banner stating 'Fashion Club'. Charles Ruttheimer III comes in after her, a camera hanging from his neck.
Upchuck: Okay, ladies, can you gather around this desk for the picture?
Sandi: Make sure you get my good side this time, will you?
Tiffany: Um, mine toooo.
Upchuck: Whatever you say, Sandi my dear.
Stacy hangs the banner from the blackboard. Sandi, Tiffany and Quinn are already sitting on the teacher's desk, looking pretty for the camera.
Upchuck: Nice footwear, ladies.
Sandi: It's the latest rage, Charles. I'm sure you wouldn't understand it.
Upchuck: You'd be surprised what I understand, my sweet. You ready, Stacy?
Stacy: You bet, Charlie.
Stacy was now sitting at the end of the desk. She crossed her legs. She wasn't wearing bowling shoes any longer. Instead, she was now wearing very fashionable shoes.
Upchuck: Smile!
FWOOMP. The camera's light illuminated the club members.
Sandi: Stacy! Where are your other shoes?! You're going to ruin the picture!
Stacy: Oh, those? Bowling shoes are passé already. Didn't you hear? So I wore something else.
Sandi's expression showed a new kind of rage.
FWOOMP.
Quinn: Stacy! Why didn't you tell us?
Stacy: I thought you kept informed on fashion tips and trends.
Quinn's expression showed shock and disbelief.
FWOOMP.
Tiffany: Is something wrong?
Sandi: Charles! Quit taking pictures…
FWOOMP. FWOOMP.
Upchuck: Work it, work it for me, ladies!
Quinn: Upchuck! Stop it!
FWOOMP. FWOOMP. FWOOMP.
Sandi: Aaaarr[FWOOMP]rrggghhhh!
FWOOMP. FWOOMP. FWOOMP. FWOOMP.
Tiffany: Am I missing something going on here?
Stacy: Just smile for the camera, Tiffany.
Tiffany: Okay.
FWOOMP.
VIDEO ENDS
Amy: I also found this in the yearbook. Loading image…now.
The electronic blackboard flickered to life with a large color picture. On it were four young women smiling for a camera. Behind them was a banner which read, "Fashion Club". All four young women were sitting on a desk in a classroom, their feet clearly visible. All but Stacy wore bowling shoes. She was wearing some attractive Keds.
Amy: She managed to sucker the rest of the Fashion Club into wearing bowling shoes. Anybody looking at the picture would see her as the attractive one by contrast. And I think it was smart of her to con the rest so she could be the attractive one in perpetuity.
Nick: What else?
Amy: I ran some queries against the Li database but didn't come up with any matches for what I wanted. But then I found something on record where Principal Li confiscated an essay that a Mr. O'Neil found objectionable. I checked her permanent records. I found a lot of regular, routine things there, but one essay stood out. Her assignment was to write about a happy event. Stacy decided to write about the day she was to graduate from Lawndale. This was written when she was still a junior. In it, she notes a few things she'll miss which I also liked. Here's that section of the paper. Loading… now.
No, I won't miss Lawndale once I leave it. I won't miss my childhood. But what I will miss:
· Seeing the day when Sandi loses it and tries to get Quinn kicked out of the Fashion Club, if it's not disbanded before we graduate anyway, and then probably lose her marbles as well.
· Seeing the day when Tiffany finally gets off her meds. I hope she finds happiness after that.
· Seeing the day when Quinn finally realizes her cuteness won't save her from having to work for a living.
· Seeing the day when Quinn's sister and her friend make Quinn's life a living hell by mismatching her colors and shoes and silly-stringing her hair when she isn't expecting it, and highlighting her hair with colors that only show up in fluorescent light (i.e., at school) and soon she is so miserable that Tiffany even notices, and Quinn quits school in order to take up smoking and become a waitress at Moe's café on the edge of town that serves truckers where she eventually gets a rid out and years later has 3 kids that torment her constantly as she is now a single mother.
Hah-hah-haaaaaaaaa – cough, cough, cough! Evil laughter intermixed with coughing in case you wanted to know. I'll have to see about getting a voice coach to train my vocal cords to do the laughing without coughing one of these days.
Nick: Interesting. There was more to her than just eye candy.
Thomas: What's that?
Nick: Sorry. Old expression. Austin. Where's the author now?
Austin: Stacy Rowe turned 18 two months shy of graduation. Three days after graduation she left Lawndale and hasn't been back as far as I could tell.
Mrs. Whitmore: Any reason why she left?
Austin: It's hard to say what the underlying reason was for Stacy's sudden departure from Lawndale. It could have been anything from just wanting to see the world to just wanting to get away from Lawndale. My guess is that she saw a commercial for joining the Army after she graduated. I'm thinking that since she had no Fashion Club duties, she was going crazy with a desire to want to do something. As is, it is known that she drifted apart from her former Fashion Club friends during her senior year and she wanted to do more than just go to college. I did some digging into her high school days, Amy, and found out that she had joined several other clubs that year.
Colin: So now instead of joining a club, she joined the military?
Austin: More than just joined up according to her autobiography. She joined the Army. She had planned on making it her career, moving through the ranks until she made general.
Mrs. Whitmore: I take it that didn't happen?
Austin: No. She was terrible on the firing range, hated wearing the green uniforms as she considered them passé, and didn't want to put too much muscle on as it would make her unable to fill out her bikini. She did try out for the SEALS, but quickly withdrew once she found out it didn't have anything to do with the mammals.
Steve: So how long did she stay in the Army?
Austin: Oh, about five or six…
Steve: Years?
Austin: No, weeks. She was discharged before basic finished.
Mrs. Whitmore: So what did she do back in civilian life?
Austin: Nothing much as she tried joining the Marines.
Kara: Same result?
Austin: Just about. Only this time she lasted three weeks.
Mrs. Whitmore: Did she go back to civilian life this time?
Austin: Yes. For a time. She was now in Atlanta, Georgia. Summer was over, college life had begun and she didn't make it in anywhere. She got a job in a college bookstore and wrote that she quickly came to the conclusion that working for just over minimum wage was a sure fire way to staying poor the rest of her life.
Ben: That's for sure.
Austin: For the next six months she searched the want ads and finally found one that appealed to her vanity more than anything else. She found an ad for swimsuit models. She went, applied and was one of several dozen girls selected. The models were then informed that the show would be out of town.
John: This doesn't sound good. How far out of town?
Austin: Cuba.
Bob: I didn't think anyone was allowed to go to Cuba from the U.S. in those days.
Austin: More or less, they weren't. This was a special show financed in part by the CIA.
Nick: How'd you find that out.
Austin: Stacy got it first hand from a few people who worked for the Agency after the coup.
John: What coup?
Austin: I'm getting to that. Stacy went with the other models and their reps to Havana the next spring. They were putting forward a show highlighting the best in American swimwear. And apparently while they are doing that, the Agency was trying to persuade Fidel Castro to agree to another 99-year lease on Guantonomo Bay.
Bob: You're kidding.
Austin: Not at all. However, before they tried that Stacy outperformed the rest of the models as she knew how to work the crowd instead of just wearing the clothes and ignoring the crowd. She cited her years of training under Sandi as the reason she was so good at that.
Amy: I thought Sandi was an snooty person when they were in high school.
Austin: She was. I believe what Stacy meant was that she needed to develop people skills in order to keep the peace following a Sandi-snub. Anyway, the crowd of mostly Cuban men hooted and hollered so much that the show reps decided to have a beauty contest. Two days later, all the models and a large number of Cuban vixens were put on stage. Stacy won, became Miss Cuba and began her 15 minutes of fame.
Rose: So where does the Agency come in?
Austin: From what I could confirm, some factions of Castro's government wanted the lease and helped get the Agency people inside closed doors to go over their offer with him. They not only didn't get Fidel to agree, but their strong arm tactics led to him having a stroke.
Bridget: He was what, a thousand years old by then? A stroke wouldn't have been unheard of.
Austin: True, but unknown to the Agency folks and the government pinheads escorting them in, everything was being broadcast via some hidden cameras.
Jon: Where'd the hidden camera's come from?
Austin: Apparently Castro was just getting ready to open his personal web site, A Day In The Life Of A Cuban Dictator.
Colin: I've seen that web site advertised in banner ads, but I've never gone to it.
Austin: I have. I don't even want to mention it. Anyway, the hidden cameras were operated by a camera crew who decided to broadcast it to the population. After viewing it, the people rose up in anger.
Larissa: Upset that their leader was hurt?
Austin: Actually, they didn't care about that. No, they were pretty ticked that trusted government people helped American spies for money they weren't going to share.
Mrs. Whitmore: We're getting off track. What happened with Stacy?
Austin: Actually, she played a vital part a few days later. The Cuba population rose up and pretty well killed a lot of government people. Those remaining decided they needed someone the people would trust as a leader. And they needed that person soon or when the people got through the locked doors, they were going to hang them.
Diane: Let me guess. Stacy.
Austin: Very good. Yes, Stacy Rowe, Miss Cuba. The government people were holed up in the same hotel as the Americans. They quickly convinced her to make a TV and radio address to appeal for calm during this emergency. She did this and while on TV, they informed the rest of Cuba that Stacy was being made Dictator for Life, like Castro was. Only, Stacy objected. She didn't want to be Dictator.
Elizabeth: I knew she didn't have it.
Austin: Instead, she wanted to be Queen. Surprisingly, the local population accepted her. Peace prevailed and a 19-year old Stacy began ruling Cuba using some of the guidance lessons imparted to her from good ol' Sandi Griffin. That last part wasn't in her autobio, but I could read its meaning between the lines.
Nick: Why surprisingly?
Austin: Castro had a son that should have gone to power. I guess no one thought of him and when all the fighting was done, he was nowhere in sight. He finally showed up several years later, doing what he had always wanted to, directing MTV-videos.
Jon: What about the Agency?
Austin: They got a non-aggression treaty with Cuba, but they didn't get the lease. Stacy took over the country and began whipping it into shape, and within a decade Disney wanted in. She sold them Guantonomo Bay's lease for 99 years and now they have a resort on Cuba – the Most Fashionable Place on Earth! The land of no plaid, unless you have a Scottish passport. Reservations required. Waiting list – one year out and growing. So where is Stacy Rowe? She's gone. And in her place is the name she's been known by for the last 50 years, the Cuban Queen.
Mrs. Whitmore: You're sure of your facts, Mr. Covello?
Austin: More than you know, Mrs. Whitmore.
Bob: This sounds like a movie.
Austin: Knowing how cheap the Agency was back then, they probably hired a hack to write out the entire process and passed it on to some superiors in D.C. as good intel and a plan of action.
Amy: Austin, why didn't you tell me any of this before coming to class today?
Austin: I couldn't.
Amy: Why not?
Austin checks something on his desk screen and audibly sighs in relief.
Austin: Oh, God, you don't know how close I came to being wiped out.
Diana: Oh, no!
Diane: Oh, no!
Debbie: Oh, no!
Mrs. Whitmore: Quiet!
Amy: What's going on, Austin?
Austin: I can talk openly now that my accounts have been unfrozen. I'm sorry I had to keep you in the dark, Amy, but when we decided to break up the research, I quickly found out this Stacy Rowe was the famous Stacy Castro and I wanted to surprise you and the entire class on doing some research on someone who made it to the big time.
Bob: How did your accounts get frozen?
Austin: It was when I contacted the Cuban embassy in Washington for a comment. I was sent to their PR arm who took turns grilling me about the actual story instead of giving me background information. Since I didn't know much about it, that was Amy's job, they wanted to ride the class lines to view the story as it was being presented.
Nick: That's illegal, and you know it.
Austin: I know, but what could I do? They'd frozen my accounts if I didn't go along with them.
Bob: How'd they freeze your accounts? They're a foreign power.
Austin: That's what I said when they confronted me with their proposal and ultimatum. And that's when the US State Department and Disney's PR fist got involved and froze all of my accounts and assets.
Thomas: Bummer, man.
Austin: They informed me if I let on what was happening, they'd zap everything.
Colin: But what were they looking for?
Austin: Near as I could figure, they wanted to gauge first reaction to old intel on the current Cuban Queen in order to see if they'd have to do damage control in the long run. Since there wasn't anything bad, plus they have Amy's upbeat review I'm guessing, and the fact they now have all of it on record anyway they must've decided to release the hold they had on my accounts.
Aaron: And who knows, this might even be used in a new ride somewhere in Cuba.
Nick: Well, this has certainly been an interesting day. What did she leave behind in the time capsule?
Austin: Her receipts.
Mrs. Whitmore: Receipts for what?
Austin: Clothes. It was four years of clothing receipts. They corresponded to her time in high school. There were enormous cash expenditures during the first three years and only two receipts during her senior year. The first one was a return receipt for just about everything she'd purchased during the three years previous, and the second was for a couple pairs of Levi's.
Nick: What do you make of that?
Austin: That Levi's were expensive even then and she needed to hock the rest of her outfits in order to get them?
Mrs. Whitmore: And you were this close to getting an "A" on this assignment, Austin. Nick?
Nick: Levi's didn't hit high-tech prestige until the early 2010's, well after Stacy Rowe graduated, and well after she bought her pants.
Amy: I hope this isn't going to impact my grade, is it?
Mrs. Whitmore: We'll talk, Amy. Austin, I want to see you after class to arrange a meeting between you, your parents, and your lawyer to go over unauthorized class line sharing.
Austin: I'll get them on-line.
Nick: Good job, Amy. Austin, I'm glad you wanted to go that extra step even if it didn't turn out well. Okay, who's next? C'mon, there's only a few of us left.
Two students raise their hands.
Nick: Yui? Rose? You two ready to go? Good enough.
Next: Mack's Story: Baseball in the 60's
Contact me:
Jwbandsb@cs.com
Disclaimer
Copyright (C) 2002 by Steven A. Brown, all rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, with the exception of 1) brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews (yeah, like that's going to happen), and 2) the complete, unaltered text of this work, including this disclaimer (or an electronic document containing same and which has been data-compressed using a lossless algorithm) when used or reproduced for private and non-commercial use only (again, like that's going to happen).
Permission is granted to repost, republish, or retransmit this work in any way, shape, or form as long as these disclaimers remain intact, and no one except Glenn Eichler, Susie Lewis, MTV Studios, or Viacom, the parent of MTV receive financial remuneration.
The Characters of Daria Morgendorffer, Quinn Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, Trent Lane, Kevin Thompson, Michael Jordan "Mack" MacKenzie, Brittany Taylor, Jodie Landon, Sandi Griffin, Timothy O'Neill, Angela Li, Anthony DeMartino, and many more, even if not mentioned here, are the creation of Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis and Copyright MTV Studios. This story is in no way to be construed as a challenge to said copyright.
The Characters of future students are entirely fictionalized and only sounds like the names of other fan fiction authors whose work I have read and enjoyed. Just wait until I start putting in other author's nam… er, that is, it's all a coincidence I tell you. A coincidence! To those of you who may be offended, remember: this is a cartoon. This is not and could never be real. Or could it? I leave questions like that to philosophers, or to OTR drivers who have experienced significant sleep deprivation.