Pretty in Punxsutawney by Laurie Boyle Crompton

Author:Laurie Boyle Crompton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2018-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

When I get to homeroom, Tom peeks under my little veil. “Andie? Is that you?”

“Hi, Tom.” I start rooting through my black leather bag. Not looking for anything in particular, just trying to maintain my aloof goth persona.

He asks, “Are you okay? I mean, your dress is great, but all summer at the theater, I never saw you wear eyeliner even once.”

I turn my kohl-rimmed eyes toward him, and he looks at me so earnestly, I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, sometimes I like to color outside the lines.” I bat my lashes at him.

He laughs. “This Tim Burton aesthetic isn’t really what I pictured when I was encouraging you to be creative.”

“Oh, I see,” I say. “You have something against Beetleju—”

His eyes go wide and he puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t say his name!” He holds in a smile as he looks around pretending to be paranoid.

I laugh. “Oh, what? You mean I shouldn’t say Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetle—”

He lunges across his desk and puts a hand over my mouth, and the two of us dissolve into laughter. In the movie, saying the name three times conjures up Michael Keaton’s wacky titular character (and if you haven’t seen the film, you might want to take a serious look at your own life’s priorities).

Tom is still grinning at me when he drops his hand from my mouth, and I realize too late that half the class has turned to watch us. We both disengage and face forward.

“I think I got lipstick on your hand,” I say quietly.

He pulls out a purple bandana and holds it out to me. “I think I smeared you a little there, sorry.”

I take out my phone and use it as a mirror to fix my lips. When I’m done, I say, “Nice hankie” as I toss it back to him. “Why purple?”

“Embrace the strange and unusual, Andie.” He wipes his hand on it and repeats, “Embrace the strange and unusual.”

Which, in case you didn’t already know, is from the movie. (And again, if you didn’t; take stock of your life.)

As I make my way through the morning, I enjoy the anonymity of being invisible to most of the people I pass in the hallways. It’s a bit counterintuitive that I also like that instant connection I feel with the other goths when we cross paths with each other.

Every time I run into Tom, he starts miming the conga dance they do in Beetlejuice. I finally give in and join him right before English class, putting my hands on his hips and allowing him to lead me through the door. As we work our way around the classroom together, his movements get more and more exaggerated. Since I’m not participating in very goth-like behavior, I try to keep my head down so my veil covers my smile. But I can’t hide how much fun I’m having.

Finally, Mr. Demers enters the room. “Ah, how nice to see students so thrilled to be here,” he says. “Apollo would certainly enjoy this dance.

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