The rest of the Thanksgiving evening passed by Tabitha in a blur, because a large part of her mind seemed to have already checked out for the day. The helpless loop of anger and frustration she’d been trapped in seemed absent now, the fear and anxiety were muted, and with all of the emotional substance drained away, it was as though she were watching some other Tabitha move about on autopilot with polite responses and mechanical movements.
When Mrs. Williams suggested Tabitha watch some television with Hannah while the grown-ups talked, she complied without a thought. She sat on a plush couch while the seven-year-old Macintire girl leaned up against her side, and Nickelodeon cartoons played out across the screen of the Williams’ giant rear-projection TV. The situation wasn’t awkward, anymore, it was just—it was nothing. Disjointed segments of Doug passed by Tabitha in a daze of meaningless noise, interspersed with those over-the-top nineties children's commercials. It didn’t feel real. Before she realized it, Doug had transitioned into Rugrats, and Rugrats likewise gave way to The Wild Thornberries.
Tabitha didn’t even notice Matthew and Auntie Carol joining them on the couch until Mrs. Macintire came by and started scolding Hannah for starting new cans of soda before she’d finished her previous ones. Matthew’s presence hadn’t even registered, another teenager was sitting right there with her, a really cute boy no less, but unlike that weird rush she’d felt when talking with Bobby the other day, here Tabitha just felt—nothing. Her gaze wandered about without meeting anyone’s eyes, and her thought processes that had been churning and roiling with nonstop exhausting activity for the past several days seemed to have lurched to a stop.
There was simply a disconnect cutting her off from experiencing the rest of the night.
She didn’t realize Hannah was pestering her with questions until Mrs. Macintire intervened and asked the little girl to give her space. She didn’t think about anything else she heard the various adults say when they talked, because she was listening but not listening; nothing entered into her consideration. It was a strange and ultimately surreal experience, because it wasn’t that her attention was elsewhere, it was that her attention was simply nowhere at all. When the night eventually wrapped up, Tabitha rigidly went through the motions of heartfelt goodbyes with the Williams family with neither heart nor feeling, and then she was riding with the Macintires to their home.
“You holdin’ up okay, Miss Tabitha?” Officer Macintire asked, craning his neck to give her another worried look. “Awful quiet back there.”
“Leave them be,” Mrs. Macintire chided him from the driver’s seat. “Quiet’s fine. Sheesh.”
“I’m fine,” Tabitha reported. “I actually just… I’m shutting down, I actually don’t feel anything at all, right now.”
“She needs time to, to… process,” Mrs. Macintire said. “It’s been a day. You leave her be.”
“Alright, alright,” the Officer chuckled, trying to turn further in his seat so that he could check on Hannah.
“Stop that, just—sit there, alright?” Mrs. Macintire griped in a playful voice. “Jesus, you’re like a little kid. Just sit there normally and don’t move around, you’re going to pop your stitches or something.”
“Will not,” Officer Macintire scoffed. “You’re makin’ light of Doctor Diana’s needlework—I’ve been trying to pop a stitch for days, now. Still haven’t managed to get a single one.”
“Daddy, stop,” Hannah’s exasperation was in mimicry of her mother’s voice. “You’re like a little kid.”
“I am not! These stitches’re good, they’re gonna last longer’n I will,” Officer Macintire said. “Should’ve seen if I could pay her extra, got her to embroider in Hannah’s name or something. What do you think, Hannah Banana? Be even better than that tattoo mommy won’t let me get.”
“Daddy, stop,” Hannah sounded cross, now. “Tabitha’s upset, so just—let’s just play the quiet game, okay?”
Upset? It was the first thing that somewhat stirred Tabitha out of her detachment, and she blinked at the little girl in surprise through the darkness as shifting orange light from street lamps passed by the Macintire’s little Acura Integra. The irony of Hannah pulling the quiet game card on her own parents should have been amusing, but more than anything she was surprised by how sensitive Hannah was to reading the moods of people around her.
Tabitha reached over and took Hannah’s little hand in her own.
“I’m not upset, or in a bad mood,” Tabitha assured her. “I’m just tired, and… needed a break from some things, and so I’m just taking a break. Your daddy can be silly all he likes, okay? It doesn’t bother me at all!”
“It’s okay,” Hannah said, regarding her with all the grave sincerity a seven-year-old girl can possibly muster. “I’m tired, too. So—so we can all just play the quiet game.”
This time both Sandra and Darren Macintire twisted in their seats to stare, and that seemed to incense Hannah even further.
“What?” Hannah demanded. “I can be quiet!”
From where she sat behind the driver’s seat Tabitha couldn’t see Mrs. Macintire’s expression, but she did catch a bit of the husband’s smile in one of the flashes of passing light. It was pretty late now and Hannah seemed to be getting genuinely grumpy, but all the same Tabitha couldn’t help but be touched by how protective the little girl was of her. Hannah was adorable and she was spoiled, she was bratty and she was wonderful. Hannah was her little savior that had pulled her back into this timeline when she’d briefly lost her way in those fever dreams.
In any other time, Tabitha’s thoughts would have tumbled down a rabbithole of trying to pull apart the psychology of it all—were these the dreaded maternal feelings coming on, or was she romanticizing this idea of childlike innocence? Or, was Hannah a character foil meant to contrast Tabitha’s unhealthy bouts of cynicism from beyond her years? Instead, Tabitha simply held Hannah’s hand with a small smile as they drove on into the darkness—for now not thinking about anything at all.
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When they arrived at the Macintire home, Sandra helped her husband inside while Hannah tugged Tabitha along. She was guided inside and down a hallway, shown a bathroom and a large guest room—large compared to her room at the mobile home in the lower park, anyways—and any further observations regarding the Macintire home were cut off, because Tabitha really was tired. Even after sleeping in ‘til late afternoon, and simply sitting quietly with the two families for most of Thanksgiving day. Tabitha’s body insisted on claiming up every ounce of rest that was on offer, because the manic energy that had kept her upright while trying to figure out what to do with the Lisa problem had wrung her out. Now it seemed like she was back to that lethargic, slow-moving post-surgery level of function.
Tabitha dropped her bag beside the guest room’s bed, she brushed her teeth with the brand new toothbrush that Mrs. Williams had foisted off on her before leaving the Williams’ place, and she used the bathroom. Then, Tabitha climbed back into the offered bed and sunk down into the softness of the unfamiliar pillow and the warmth of strange blankets, letting her consciousness drain away.
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After a whirlwind morning tour of the Macintire’s large suburban home, Tabitha only had one meaningful impression thus far—that there were toys and stuffed animals literally everywhere.
In the living room, a three-story dollhouse had been repurposed into a stable full of the classic-style My Little Ponies, while three Barbies and a Ken were drunkenly jammed into a broken pink convertible with a missing windshield. A pair of motorized Furbies sat with half-lidded eyes atop the tube TV in the entertainment center, their batteries apparently dead. Rainbow Bright, Winnie the Pooh, a small band of wild-haired Trolls, and a scattering of Beanie Babies were strewn across the sofa. Disney storybooks from what must have been an enormous matching set were piled about everywhere, the familiar titles no doubt contributing to Hannah’s near-encyclopedic knowledge of the franchise.
Happy meal toys, playmobil people figurines, and plastic food of every kind could be seen, and not one but two big plastic kitchenette playsets, as well as a stylized grocery store counter with a little conveyer belt and register. Tabitha even noticed a child-sized shopping cart, so jammed full of other toys that she guessed an overwhelmed Mrs. Macintire had taken to dumping errant things there simply to keep things from being underfoot. No surface was free from Hannah’s overwhelming collection of material things, even the bathroom turned out to be cluttered with makeup sets and fake jewelry and princess tiaras along the vanity, while a heap of brightly colored plastic tugboats and foam fish pool toys and play cups crowded the floor beside the bathtub.
It was one thing to be told Hannah was spoiled, and another thing entirely to really experience that fact with her own eyes as an indisputable truth. Tabitha honestly felt shell-shocked by it all. Her experience visiting her cousins and seeing their sometimes messy array of action figures and toy guns everywhere simply did not prepare her for this—there were four of them, while Hannah’s single presence upon the Macintire home was overwhelming, oppressive, like a girl’s toy aisle realm was encroaching in upon their reality.
“You don’t even have to say it,” Mrs. Macintire shook her head in dismay as she placed a selection of cereal boxes on the table for the girls to choose from. “I know. I know.”
“It’s just… wow,” Tabitha let out a helpless laugh.
Toys aside, the dining room here was bright and spacious, with ample light pouring in from both a big sliding glass door and bay windows with actual windowseats. Tabitha fell in love with the windowseats at first sight and intended to curl up in one those nooks with a book at the earliest opportunity. There was just so much room everywhere, it was going to take some adjusting to how much empty volume there was here after acclimating herself to the cramped confines of a trailer for the past half year, but overall—Tabitha was thrilled to be here.
Something about the atmosphere back at the William’s residence had been a little too stiff and upper class for her liking, and it had given her a sense that Karen Williams was meticulous in the particular arrangement of each and every little piece of decor, that much of the furniture and antiques were to be seen but not actually used in day-to-day life. By comparison, the Macintire’s place here felt comfortable and lived in, messy in a casual way that put Tabitha at ease.
“What’s wow?” Hannah asked, looking up from the small pile of Disney picturebooks she’d gathered at the table to show Tabitha. “These?”
“You just eat your breakfast, sweet pea,” Mrs. Macintire sighed. “I swear it didn’t used to be this bad. I spoil her a little bit, but I’m the voice of reason, here. Her daddy’s got no restraint, can’t seem to ever put his foot down and say no, and don’t even get me started on Karen—she wanted a little girl, but they could only have Matthew.”
“I just have two moms,” Hannah boasted. “Mommy is like my mom, and then Momma Williams is like my mom, too.”
“No I’m not like your mom, I am your mom, you little hooligan,” Mrs. Macintire sighed, plopping down into the seat across from them. “You see what I put up with?”
“I’ll do what I can to help manage everything,” Tabitha promised. “Hannah, which of these would you like for breakfast?”
“Ummmm—” Hannah stared. “Fruit Loops and Frosted Flakes. Fruit Loops for breakfast, Frosted Flakes for the back.”
“Okay,” Tabitha nodded, rising up from her seat to situate one cereal box to Hannah’s side so that she could look at the illustrations and puzzles on the back, then pouring the other cereal into her little bowl. “No milk?”
“No milk,” Hannah shook her head. “I don’t like milk.”
“She does like milk, she likes chocolate milk, and strawberry milk,” Mrs. Macintire explained in embarrassment. “But not in her cereal, she’s—she just eats it dry.”
“That’s fine,” Tabitha nodded. “I’ll have—if it’s okay, I’ll just have some toast?”
“Honey, you treat anything you see in that fridge like your own, okay?” Mrs. Macintire said. “I mean, anything non-alcoholic, hah. Oh, and hon you might have to play with the little toaster dial a bit, Darren likes his set at burnt to a crisp.”
“Burnt to a crisp!” Hannah repeated with a giggle. “Burnt to a crisp. Gross.”
“Thank you,” Tabitha said, crossing the kitchen to inspect the device. “You just saved my breakfast! And, then is it alright if I do dishes afterwards, or—?”
“Whoa, there, missy,” Mrs. Macintire sagged slightly in her seat. “Let’s not—listen, I’d appreciate it to bits if you can help look after Hannah, but you are not our maidservant, or anything like that. We’ll… well we’ll figure out how we want to do things as we go, but for now while you’re just first settling in, let’s just treat you like you’re a guest, okay? I don’t want you feeling like you’re obligated to—well, do anything right now. You are not Cinderella, here.”
“What’s wrong with Cinderella?” Hannah interjected in surprise. “I like Cinderella.”
“Hannah Honey—if she’s like Cinderella slaving away doing all the chores for us, then that means we’re like the wicked mean stepfamily that makes her do everything for us,” Mrs. Macintire explained. “Do you want to be like the wicked stepfamily?”
“I can help do stuff,” Hannah insisted, hesitating a moment. “What kind of stuff? Dishes are gross.”
“I’m honored that you’ve taken me into your home, and helping out in any way that I can will ease my conscience,” Tabitha said with a wry smile as she singled out slices of bread from the Macintire’s breadbox. “I’ll feel terribly guilty if I’m nothing but a burden.”
“Tabitha—please don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s not normal,” Mrs. Macintire squinted her eyes in playful suspicion. “Thirteen year old girls don’t speak quite so… eloquently? In my experience?”
“Ah, it must be the onset of that fourteenth year coming up on me,” Tabitha teased as she inserted a pair of bread slices and then examined the dial on the toaster. “But, um. In all seriousness—speaking in a more formal manner is my own… subconscious mechanism for managing stress.
“My mother was studying to be an actress in her early life, I endeavor to become an author, so creating roles, and stepping into them—I think it’s… it’s something like a role for myself I created, a buffer that helps keep the world at arm’s length. When things just become too difficult for me to bear, but I have no choice but to weather on regardless. That’s not to mean in a way that reflects poorly on you! I’m just, I’m going through a lot right now, and—”
“Hun, stop, stop,” Mrs. Macintire waved her down. “I know what you meant. God damnit. You’re gonna make me cry, and it’s way too early in the morning for me to start crying, alright? Hannah—look at this, I was just tryin’ to get you a nanny to help look after you, but we pulled in a real-life Disney princess.”
“She’s just like Princess Ariel,” Hannah nodded, wobbling the cereal box she was reading forward at an angle. “She looks like Princess Ariel, but she can talk, too.”
“Yep, she sure can talk, she talks just like a victorian duchess,” Mrs. Macintire laughed. “Look! Hannah, look! Look at her face going red! Aww, honey, you speak beautifully. You don’t have to explain yourself, and you don’t have to be embarrassed. Here’s to hoping some of that proper ladylike diction rubs off on little Hannah, okay?”
“My face isn’t red,” Tabitha protested, feeling her cheeks burn.
“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Macintire chuckled, standing up and crossing the room to grab a handset phone from its receiver dock on the kitchen counter. “Well, listen. I know you probably just need some time to settle in here, but first thing’s first—Tabitha, I’d like you to make a few calls.”
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“Is this a good idea?” Tabitha asked with a wince. “This… this isn’t a good idea.”
“Good idea? No,” Mrs. Macintire puffed. “Great idea? Absolutely.”
Tabitha was on the edge of her seat in Sandra’s Acura where it was idling beside the curb of the broad plaza. There was clearly no more parking available, people were everywhere, and all because someone had determined not to let Tabitha spend her time brooding in teenage angst over recent events.
What’s so wrong with brooding?! Tabitha had protested in exasperation and amusement. I swear, a girl can’t even let out a helpless sigh and then gaze off into the distance, anymore!
Hannah had giggled at that, but though Mrs. Macintire had smiled, her that’s right, you can’t in reply had been firm. The solution—to her surprise—was shopping with friends. Tabitha was tasked with calling up both Alicia and Elena on the phone, and with a suspicious lack of issues or complications, a full day at the Sandboro mall with her friends had been arranged. While thrilled to spend time with them, a big part of Tabitha was just so far out of her element that this sudden trip felt a little like being cast out of a frying pan and into a fire. What had at first seemed like a simple meetup at the mall somehow became an outing, to the extent that Mrs. Macintire offered Tabitha her array of makeup in the master bedroom’s bath and wanted to know if she needed help with her hair.
The weather felt unseasonably warm for late November, so even though the skies were overcast and gray outside it was in the high sixties and too warm to warrant wearing a sweatshirt. Sandra had talked her into wearing the prettiest blouse discovered in Tabitha’s bag—a white ensemble with delicate floral embroidery which gave way at the shoulders to a see-through mesh featuring floating white lace. Even despite Tabitha explaining in a fluster that no, the blouse wasn’t expensive, that the top was simply a discounted bridesmaid’s dress cropped off at the waist, it seemed to really impress the Macintire mother, who refused to stop admiring it and remarking upon just how gosh darn fashionable the garment was. The seven-year-old Hannah was transfixed, dancing around her in excitement, dashing back and forth across the house to offer her plastic jewelry and accessories, and finally the little girl mimicked dramatically swooning away at the sight of Tabitha. Both mother and daughter agreed that Tabitha looked just like an angel, and she had maybe never felt more embarrassed in her entire life.
I do look… maybe okay? Tabitha had shared a worried glance with her reflection in the mirror.
Hun—you look way more than okay, Mrs. Macintire and Hannah on either side of her in the mirror seemed entirely too smug about it.
It’s mostly coincidence! Tabitha had protested. The way the lace at the shoulders forms a patterned edge does look a little bit like feathering, it is a LITTLE BIT angelic. My current disastrous shade of pale compliments the white in a weird way, and then that makes the my red hair seem more… striking and vivid than usual. Even that’s probably just the nice lighting you have in your bathroom here! I’m used to the low-wattage light bulbs we had in the trailer that cast everything in dim yellows, it’s… it’s really amazing what a difference seeing yourself in a completely new light, so to speak…
The modified thriftstore blouse paired nicely with a rather casual pair of bleached-white jeans she’d had the foresight to pack, but Tabitha’s worn-out sneakers had been outright rejected by Mrs. Macintire, insisting they did her entire outfit a disservice. After awkwardly being led past an amused Officer Macintire still grounded to bedrest in the master bedroom, the walk-in closet there had been raided until a dainty pair of white slip-on sandals was selected for her. The entire dress-up experience had been strange but not entirely unwelcome, and with a dash of makeup and a few minutes addressing her hair, Tabitha’s appearance was now Hannah approved.
“Won’t it be, well—super busy?” Tabitha asked. “Crazy crowds, like, black Friday crowds?”
“Little busier, sure,” Sandra shrugged. “But, that’s for a reason! Lot of great deals at the mall, it’s the best day of the year to shop. There’s nothing to worry about—or, wait a minute, is this about money? Oh, hon, you don’t need to worry about money, because we’re giving you money to spend.”
“Oh, no—I couldn’t take your money,” Tabitha paled. “I really don’t think I can—”
“Yeah, well—tough,” Mrs. Macintire laughed. “This is—consider it an advance, alright?”
“No, it’s—I’m fine,” Tabitha protested. “I have some of my own money that I’ve saved, there’s no reason to—”
“Mm-hmm, how much?” Mrs. Macintire glanced over the edge of her aviator sunglasses at the girl.
“Enough,” Tabitha swallowed. “More than enough.”
“Tabitha honey—listen,” Mrs. Macintire said. “Don’t fight me on this. Karen peeked in your little wallet last night. You have seventeen dollars in there, that won’t even buy you a pair of jeans. I’m a pushy person, I have to be. Everything you’ve been through, it’s… hell, it’s weighing on my conscience, so today—today I want to remove you as far away from your problems as I can. Just let you be a normal teenage girl for a little bit, do some shopping and hang out with your friends. Retail therapy.”
“Did—” Tabitha began with a weak smile. “So, Mrs. Williams put you up to this?”
“Partly,” Mrs. Macintire admitted. “My plan for this is way better than hers, though. She was gonna have Matthew take you around wherever you wanted to go, let him drive her car today. It’s like, Karen—the boy has a girlfriend, already. Let him spend time with his girlfriend, you can’t just pair him off with another girl just ‘cause it’s convenient!”
“Oh, oof,” Tabitha grimaced. “Yeah, that would have been… awkward.”
“You’ll probably run into him and Casey today anyways, they’re taking Hannah around the mall. They’re very specifically not going to be intrusive, but they’re maybe gonna check in on you guys and make sure you’re doing okay here and there. Okay?”
“Um, oh,” Tabitha said. “Then, should—”
“Here,” Mrs. Macintire interrupted, drawing a bank envelope of alarming thickness from her purse and pushing it towards Tabitha. “Money.”
“Oh—no, no, I can’t,” Tabitha winced. “That’s—”
“It’s your money,” Mrs. Macintire insisted, pushing it into Tabitha’s hands. “Karen and I put it together, we’re getting a bank account sorted out for you with your mother sometime today or tomorrow. Or—shit, Monday, I guess. Your settlement money’s ready—kind of—just, it’s tied up in red tape for a bit and won’t be available in its entirety ‘til after the holidays, probably. So, this is a tiny little bit of your money, from your settlements, here for you in advance. Okay? Six hundred dollars.”
“That’s too much!” Tabitha blurted out before the extravagant sum even really hit her. “That’s—no no no, that’s way too much money! Mrs. Macintire—I can’t, I really can’t. Sixty dollars would have been too much. I don’t—”
“Hey, stop,” Mrs. Macintire took her by the shoulders. “It’s okay. Honey, it’s okay. I know it seems like a lot, but it’ll be gone before you know it. I want you to—no, stop and listen to me—I want you to pick out some shoes and some new clothes, okay? You just have that one little bag you took from your parent’s place, and that isn’t enough. Okay? You need shoes, outfits, underwear, everything. If you want toothpaste that isn’t sickening bubblegum crap, if you want shampoo that isn’t Hannah’s L’Oreal Kids shampoo—you pick out whatever you like, okay? You take… let’s say half of that money, and you be as responsible with it as you like.
“The other half? I want you to spend completely goddamn frivolously,” Mrs. Macintire commanded in a stern voice. “Really, treat yourself. Take your friends out to eat, load up on snacks or candy or anything. Pick out some Christmas presents for people, grab some games or books or movies or whatever it is will keep you sane when you’re back at the house cooped up looking after Hannah all the time. I know it seems like a lot of money, I realize that—but—honey, this is yours, and it’s long overdue. Trust me.”
“Then,” Tabitha paused, finally looking up from the fat envelope. “Thank you, Mrs. Macintire.”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Macintire gave her a brilliant smile and a little squeeze before letting her go. “Oh, and—don’t you dare get into calling me ‘Mrs. Macintire’ all the time, it makes me sound old. You can call me mom if you want, because I’m a mom, even if I’m not your mom, and that’s still fine. Sandra or Sandy will also do. Do not call me Cassandra, you won’t get to be mad at me enough to do that, I hope.”
“I—I can’t call you mom,” Tabitha said, giving the woman a helpless look. “You’re just too young.”
“Oh, stop,” Mrs. Macintire beamed, cuffing Tabitha on the shoulder. “Look at you, my awful husband’s rubbing off on you already. Jesus Christ. Go on, get out of here, shoo! You’re not welcome back home until you’ve spent every cent of that, so get to it, little lady.”
Then, Tabitha hopped out of the car and was off.
As a result of the morning’s unrelenting battery of compliments and praise that Tabitha felt surely must border on brainwashing, she was still blushing a bit. Self-conscious now in a weird good way as she hopped up the curb and crossed the walkway, weaving around passersby to the entrance of the Sandboro mall. She felt… strange, different. More receptive to all of the kind words, and less ready to immediately disregard or reject them on reflex. Rather than the wayward soul who had exercised and starved herself into a gangly, unfamiliar teen at the start of high school, Tabitha felt like she’d grown into herself a bit, become more comfortable in her body.
This is what you imagine a proper do-over SHOULD be, Tabitha thought to herself. It should feel like this, it should be more of a free and open feeling, the feeling of being reborn with new chances. A fresh start. Not mired in all of the old nonsense issues and heartache. I love my family, I really do. But—I needed space, I needed THIS.
Family issues weren’t something she was capable of resolving right now, and now they’d finally—finally been set aside. It was weird even being able to do that while she was still just getting into her mid-teens. To seemingly pause that entire messy narrative with one unseen finger holding her place in that book, and take a break to do something else, be somewhere else. Everything felt different. After being stifled for weeks and weeks, she was finally out away from it all, in the fresh air where she could breathe for once.
One of the women walking in front of her paused to hold open one of the inner set of double-doors for Tabitha, and Tabitha thanked her with a nervous grin. Carefully cradling the thick bank envelope against herself with her cast, Tabitha stepped inside the mall and was immediately dazzled by all of the sights.
Shoppers were everywhere, filling the areas with crowds of coming and going people, and standing what must have been an impressive forty feet tall in the center of the indoor plaza was an enormous Christmas tree. Likewise garlands of green and tinsel decorated the nearby escalator edges, holiday banners and multicolored lights hung down from the railing of the upper level overlooks, and an assortment of giant christmas-ornament like balls had been suspended from the skylights in the grand open space.
Each timid step forward into the gargantuan promenade of the shopping mall filled Tabitha with the bubbling energy of excitement, and these steps slowed as she turned this way and that to simply gawk at what she was seeing. There was an indescribable allure to this place that drew her, a magic that danced in the air. She was a teenage girl in the nineties, and she was at the mall—everything about this place seemed tailored specifically to appeal to budding teen sensibilities. In her time spent in this second chance at life Tabitha had cultivated a sixth sense for things that teased out the nascent thrill of nostalgia and that hard to pin feel of a youth-gone-by—being here in the Sandboro Mall overwhelmed that sense in capacities she hadn’t even realized she possessed.
“Oh wow,” Tabitha mouthed, unable to stop marveling at it all.
“Tabs!” Alicia cried out with a dazzling smile. “Hey, what’s up! It’s been like, forever!”
“Alicia, Elena, hi!” Tabitha exclaimed in a squeak. “I missed you guys!”
The dark-skinned Alicia had pulled her hair into a dramatic one-side ponytail that seemed to simply explode out into frizzy volume. It was a cool retro sort of daring that suited Alicia perfectly, and Tabitha found herself in awe of it—jealous and proud and amused by the look all at once. It was a very nineties style, but here in the actual nineties Alicia could simply get away with it without it seeming like a nineties style—Tabitha almost felt cheated. To her surprise and amazement, Alicia turned out to be dressed up fancy just as much as Tabitha was, wearing the cream-colored top Tabitha had gifted her, this time layered beneath a dark brown overall dress with wide pockets.
While Alicia’s outfit came off as incredibly cute, the raven-haired Elena trailing behind was positively chic gothic in all somber black, wearing a Nightmare before Christmas sweatshirt with the hood up. Tabitha would have summed up Elena’s look as scene girl or emo, except that here in 1998 skinny jeans weren’t in vogue just yet. Instead, Elena wore brand new black JNCO jeans, the pantlegs so wide and baggy that at first glance she’d assumed her friend was wearing a dress. Another moment of observation revealed that beneath her half-zipped sweatshirt, Elena was likewise wearing that black cocktail blouse Tabitha had given her back before trick-or-treating. Their blatant show of solidarity was moving, and Tabitha felt like she was getting a little choked up just at seeing her friends again.
“Both of you,” Tabitha finally said. “Wow. I—I really missed you guys. You both look so amazing!”
“Shuddup and gimme a hug!” Alicia exclaimed, grabbing Tabitha up in her arms and crushing her tight. “So—I hear you moved out?! What the hell happened?”
“Um,” Tabitha paused. “My Aunt happened. Long story.”
“Long story?” Alicia prompted. “Well? Let’s hear it! Damn. I really missed you! You look great, too. ‘Lena, doesn’t she look great?!”
“She looks amazing,” Elena’s affected face of stoicism gave way to a small smile. “Tabitha—you look like you just walked out of your wedding. If we meet my friend Ziggy today—my friend at Hot Topic—she’s going to absolutely lose her mind.”
“In a good way, or in a bad way?” Tabitha laughed.
“Both,” Elena’s smile quirked into a smirk. “She’s got opinions on wearing white or anything pure or innocent or preppy princess kind of stuff. But like, you pull it off. Completely.”
“Oh, oh,” Alicia laughed, tilting her head at Elena. “Ziggy, huh? She’s the one you said was—you know. Into girls?”
“She has a girlfriend,” Elena rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, no, that’s cool,” Alicia said quickly. “So long as it doesn’t like, bother you. I thought before that it would.”
“Lot of things were different before,” Elena shrugged. “Now it’s—whatever. It’s her life.”
“Uhh, hah, well I’m too young and too old to date,” Tabitha found herself laughing along with Alicia. “Like, both at the same time. Maybe when I’m older? Er—when it’s been a few years and I’m younger, or I've come to terms with being younger? I’m in a super weird place.”
“Tabs, you’re okay with bein’ with a girl?!” Alicia asked with a look of surprise.
“I’ve no idea!” Tabitha stuck out her tongue. “Never quite cleared my own self-image hurdles, and now when I am actually getting okay with my own body—I’ve got imposter syndrome pulling me both ways at once. No idea what my effective age is. I’m absolutely not my old mature mind put in a young body, and I’m not just my past younger self but with extra memories, either. Now I’m just… me. Every day I’m shaping and being shaped by completely unique new experiences that don’t fit to either way of framing things. Sooo—with all that mindfuck, how am I supposed to figure out where to start dating?”
“Well, way easier if you just drop out all the time traveler BS,” Elena suggested with a teasing smile. “Even if you do think you believe it—like, just pretend you don’t. Ta-da, you’re actually a normal girl with completely normal fears and insecurities. Every girl gets the imposter syndrome thing sometimes, no matter if they’re prep or goth or anywhere in-between. It’s a natural part of adolescence.”
“Elena’s still on the fence ‘bout all the future stuff,” Alicia confided with a wink. “We’ll figure something out though, Tabitha. There’s absolutely no way you’re just gonna be single forever if you don’t wanna be, okay hot stuff?”
“If you say so,” Tabitha tried not to look skeptical. “C’mon, let’s walk. I haven’t like, been let loose like this since… forever! I want to go around, I want to see everything!”
The three girls chose a direction and they were off together in a giddy rush down the first concourse, with two stories of shops stretching on in rows on either side of them while benches, decorative planters, and the occasional kiosk or fountain occupied the tiled walkway. Music was playing overhead but difficult to discern, because there were so many people visiting the Sandboro mall on black Friday that the indistinct noise of what must have been hundreds of different conversations echoed down each hall.
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Shopping malls were without a doubt the iconic place to be of this era. The suburban sprawl of the country was incredibly isolating to those too young to drive—television connected teens to their trends and culture, but if they wanted fashion more avant garde than whatever generic options the nearest Walmart had on offer, the only option was a mall. If one wanted a decent selection of accessories, books, or games—the mall. When a teen wanted to explore and interact in a social setting full of their peers without the rigid timetable structure of classes and oversight of adults like teachers and principals—the mall.
All of the additional perspectives she had on this tickled out thought after thought on why it was making her feel this way. Tabitha didn’t particularly love to shop—she’d grown up poor enough that she wasn’t able to unsee the pricetags on things, wasn’t able to dampen her awareness of the cost of everything around her. Thus, shopping had usually stressed her out, it wasn’t a pastime she engaged in for fun. That wasn’t to say she was cynical about the endeavor, and Tabitha wasn’t the type to turn her nose up at the idea of it, or label the mall a cathedral to vapid consumerism or anything like that. It wasn’t even exactly the shopping that appealed to her teenage psyche so strongly—it was the atmosphere.
She was at the mall with her best friends! It was more enticing than being able to push her young body through strenuous exercise without joint pain, it was better than the baffling flashes of nostalgia that still occasionally blindsided her, and it was more intense than the simple wash of hormones that bubbled through her when she talked to a cute boy. They were all dressed up and together, she belonged, they were all seeing things and being seen. She was young, she was maybe kind of attractive, and she had money to spend! Tabitha wouldn’t have even known how to articulate or express the desire for this kind of moment before, so now that she was here in this moment—this shopping mall experience was simply enthralling beyond words.
“Geez, Tabs—what, first time?” Alicia teased, gently elbowing her friend’s arm. “Do they not have malls in the future?”
Tabitha couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles at that.
“What,” Alicia paused, giving her a look of disbelief. “They don’t?”
“It’s—no, they do, for a while,” Tabitha looked around with a wistful smile. “Just, not quite like this. This here in the late nineties and early two-thousands, this was the heydey of malls, before they, y’know, slid into inevitable decline and eventual extinction. It’s amazing to just experience it like this, back when it was this incredible amazing thing. With all these people, with this… atmosphere. It’s hard to even put into words. It’s like being able to see a dinosaur.”
“Bullshit,” Elena scoffed. “You’re saying malls aren’t a thing in the future?”
“Not by the twenty-forties, they’re not,” Tabitha sadly shook her head.
“What?” Alicia stared. “Why not? What happened?”
“Online shopping happened,” Tabitha shrugged. “Amazon happened, Walmart happened, the tens of thousands of individual businesses dwindled down to just a few hundred, and even most of those were bought out and became just different faces of the same few megacorporations that own everything. Brick and mortar stores like this, they have all these overhead costs. Renting out the physical space, hiring workers for each little individual store, shuffling around stock and setting up actual decor and having all these promotional things actually printed out and set up. They couldn’t compete once we got into late stage capitalism.”
“Bullshit,” Elena repeated. “You’re saying all of this gets replaced by going on your computer? I don’t think so.”
“I can see how that would sound incredible to you,” Tabitha chuckled. “But the idea of online shopping you have is tied up in the limitations of the computers and internet that you know now.”
“It’s not even just that,” Elena shook her head. “Malls aren’t just shopping, they can’t be replaced by computer shopping just being this cheaper alternative. There’s a whole culture here, there’s this social aspect that you could never replace. Going to the mall isn’t just shopping, it’s going out, it’s being somewhere.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Tabitha sighed. “This here is special. I can tell. I intend to really appreciate it just like this, before it’s gone.”
“So—what, one day malls are just gone?” Alicia scoffed. “One day it’s like, ‘sorry y’all, doing this the other way makes us more money, just boot up your computers and shop that way instead?’”
“They’re gone by the two thousand forties, I said,” Tabitha rolled her eyes. “It’s a gradual decline. Look around you, do you see any empty stores?”
“Empty stores?” Alicia glanced down the row of boutiques. “No? It’s like, three o’clock on a Black Friday. Even the jewelry place is packed.”
“No, I mean empty as in, one of these places where a shop would be, but it’s just empty. Vacant. Bare walls inside, no logo above the entrance. Shuttered gate down, maybe with a ‘our previous store location moved to so-and-so,’ or a ‘such-and-such’ coming soon’ notice hanging up.”
“Uhh… no?” Alicia said. “I mean, not right now. Yeah, I’ve seen that before where a place closes up to move or whatever, I do know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, picture us fast forwarding, say, ten years,” Tabitha gestured around with her finger to point at various stores. “Ten years, so it’s now 2008. Within these ones you can see, that one, that one, and that one are closed. They’re small businesses and I’ve never heard of them, so they probably just disappear. Picture those ones as vacant shops, now. Those two over there get bought out by bigger brands, whatever their bigger competitor is. People have started shopping on the computer, as you say, and sales are down here.”
“Okay,” Alicia nodded. “I can picture that.”
“Fast forward another ten years, it’s 2018,” Tabitha now just pointed at the large Sear’s that occupied one end of the mall’s concourses and then the American Eagle that was nearby. “Those two remain, and maybe one or two others, from the ones in sight here. Pretty much every other place is closed up—less shops open means less reason to visit the mall, less foot traffic here browsing wares. People shop on their phones now, picture a little tablet display the size of a paper pocket notebook. But, your phone is connected to every store in the world. If you’re a member of whatever special online service and pay their monthly fee, you’ll get free shipping on everything, too. Which—I didn’t, but whenever you go to checkout online it’s like they try to rub it in your face with automated reminders.”
“Wow,” Alicia blinked. “That’s… huh.”
“Anyways. Fast forward ten more years, 2028. Honestly, I lived in the area, and the Sandboro mall doesn’t even last the whole way to twenty-eight. There was a pandemic in twenty-twenty, and most everyone was avoiding public spaces for most of that year. That was the death knell to an already struggling mall, it just became unsustainable since not enough spaces were getting leased out. I know by 2025 or so, most of this was already closed up and they were tearing some of the structures down. The Sears here remained for a while but as its own building, same with the Macy’s over on the other end. All of this in-between they did away with, they fit in a couple office buildings, I think a shipping distribution center, and a little miniature shopping strip.”
“That’s—no, that’s dumb,” Elena refused to accept it. “You can’t just shop that way. You can’t try on clothes without being there in person to try them on. And, a good deal of the way businesses make money is by having them all here on display like this—there’s an entire science to it, to tempting people into buying more than they originally came here for.”
“Oh, that science evolves and persists in online shopping, believe me,” Tabitha shrugged. “You are mostly right about fitting rooms disappearing, that was a change. Most stores treated them as a necessary evil in the first place, though—they take up a ton of space, space that then needs to be kept safe and clean and constantly monitored so that un-bought clothing can be hung back up and returned to where it goes in the store. Also, then from a loss prevention perspective, you’re either treating all of your customers like potential thieves, which no one appreciates, or you’re enabling the actual shoplifters to have an easier time stealing merchandise.”
“You see?” Alicia let out a wistful sigh. “She’s doing it again, she has this super reasonable thought-out answer, for just about everything. So like, either she’s spent a ton of time figuring out all sorts of this random stuff ahead of time, or… she’s really from the future.”
“She’s not really from the future,” Elena rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to believe trying on clothing stops being a thing? Puh-lease.”
“I did say these things phase out gradually over time. Just, instead of actually going somewhere and trying things on, it’s you lounging around the house, scrolling through hundreds of product reviews to see the pros and cons people’ve said about the clothes you’re interested in. To some extent a lot of the early to mid two-thousands era fashion rendered exact fitting for a lot of things a moot point, because half of women were just going to wear yoga pants or shapewear anyways.”
“Wait, everyone’s doing yoga in the future?” Alicia paused. “...Really?”
“No, almost no one is,” Tabitha laughed. “Wearing yoga pants or leggings gets super popular, though. They’re comfortable—if you’re comfortable with your body, which before you ask I wasn’t, I never looked like this and didn’t even glance at form-fitting clothing—and it really shows off your butt. Like, every crack and contour’s gonna be pretty much on display.”
“Ewwww, ew,” Alicia giggled. “Every crack? Like everyone’s butt cracks?!”
“Unironically—yes,” Tabitha let out a sigh of dismay. “Don’t look at me, I couldn’t wear them.”
“What’s the other one you said?” Elena prompted. “Shapewear?”
“Oh, shapewear has been around forever in some form or another,” Tabitha explained. “In history, girdles and corsets would’ve counted as shapewear. Here in the nineties—I guess push-up bras would count? Just, in the future the designs and materials keep improving. High-waisted stuff that compresses tummy fat to makes you look slender, stuff that lifts your butt in just the right way—I don’t know. I was an ugly fat potato, I didn’t even try to get into those trends.
“You’re not fat, or ugly, or a potato,” Alicia chided her. “And, you’re not going to be. I mean, just look at you!”
“Yeah,” Tabitha said. “I can’t be fat ever again. Or a potato. Not going to let that happen.”
“Or ugly,” Alicia said.
“Ugly I can live with,” Tabitha shrugged. “I mean, I’m not right now, I realize that. I’m okayish looking. Just, I uh, I don’t think I can doll myself up or try to impress or anything just yet. I’m not ready, I—I don’t actually know how to handle attention when I get it, and too much attention like, activates my fight or flight response.”
“Huh,” Alicia remarked. “And that’s why you don’t wear makeup?”
“I—I do wear makeup,” Tabitha raised her good hand in defense. “A bit. Just, not getting into eyeliner or lipstick or any of that. I use a bit of concealer here and there, just whenever little problems pop up.”
“You were hiding in the library every day back when we first met,” Elena remembered. “Instead of even trying to be social.”
“I—yes,” Tabitha admitted. “I was hiding. But, I also had a lot of stuff going on, and I couldn’t deal with everything at once. I knew the shooting happened in October, but I was real iffy on the exact day, and… I knew I was gonna have to be the one to do something.”
“You couldn’t have told someone?” Alicia asked. “Or, uh, warned them somehow?”
“I tried to think of ways, but nothing seemed like a safe bet,” Tabitha shook her head. “If I’d been sure of the date, I maybe could have.”
“I thought you did know it was October first,” Alicia said. “Like, and that was why you specifically had me there right on that day.”
“No, that was not part of the plan,” Tabitha winced. “I’m sorry you had to be there for that. In my head, I still had a little bit of time before it happened, some, uh, leeway. A week maybe, at least a couple of days. But, then it just happened. And that was that. I’m sorry.”
“Naw, it was cool, now I have a great story to tell,” Alicia stuck out her tongue. “But, um—what are you gonna do about the other one? The big terrorist thing?”
“Big terrorist thing?” Elena’s eyebrows went up.
“I uh, I—I,” Tabitha stammered out, lurching to a halt in the middle of the thoroughfare. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Because you don’t remember the exact day?” Alicia asked.
“What big terrorist thing?” Elena pressed. “Like, in Springton?”
“No, no, not in Springton,” Tabitha grimaced. “New York City—the twin towers. World trade center. And—I remember the exact day, everyone remembers the exact day. Nine-eleven; September eleventh. Took me a bit to figure out whether it was 2000 or 2001, but yeah, I’m sure now it’s 2001. Worked out from where I was in my life at that time when the news, uh, when the news hit.”
“A bombing, then?” Elena asked. “Like the Oklahoma city bombing?”
“Um, worse, I think,” Tabitha said. “So much worse. Although honestly, I don’t remember the Oklahoma city bombing well at all. The name catches in my memory, but I don’t think I know the details. How many people died?”
“A lot,” Elena said. “I’ll have to ask my mom how many. It was the worst case of terrorism in America, ever—and you don’t remember anything about it?”
“It was the worst case until nine-eleven, maybe,” Tabitha said.
“Okay,” Elena made a face. “How bad is it? It’s a bombing at the world trade center?”
“No, not a bombing,” Tabitha said. “Four airliners are hijacked from… an east coast airport. I honestly can’t remember which one, and the more I start second-guessing myself, the more I doubt all of the maybes. Could be Philly, could be Boston. Baltimore. One of those, some big east coast airport. They hijack four airliners and… crash them into the world trade center buildings. Two hit there, one hits the Pentagon. The fourth one crashes in a deserted field out in the middle of nowhere, they thought maybe passengers were fighting to regain control of the airliner from the hijackers. Loss of life on the four airliners is total, and both of the twin towers and almost every single person in them, somewhere around three thousand people… lose their lives. A-all of the first responders are killed too, I think uh, something like thr-three hundred firefighters were there trying to evacuate people when the towers actually come down, it’s, it’s—”
“Tabitha, you’re shaking,” Elena said.
“I—yeah,” Tabitha crossed her arms and clamped them tightly against herself. “Yeah, it’s this huge, gigantic tragedy, and—and I don’t have any idea how I could stop it. Or, or, anything I can think of, any attempts at warning them, they come back on me in a terrible way. Because how do I have advance knowledge of these, these militant extremists and what they plan to do? Where did I get these details from? I, I don’t have an acceptable answer for that. How can I even make anyone believe me about it in the first place? And, I think whether or not I do, whether or not it winds up having terrible consequences for me, I’m going to be compelled to try to do something anyways. Because—three thousand people. So many more directly affected, lost loved ones or injured, or—I can’t just do nothing. But, then, then what do I do?!”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Elena argued. “You’re not responsible for everything.”
“I thought you didn’t believe her about all the time travel stuff?” Alicia asked. “Sure seems like whenever—”
“I believe that she believes it, and I’m her friend,” Elena dismissed Alicia’s argument. “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“And anyways, can’t you just leave like, an anonymous tip?” Alicia suggested. “Something like that? Write up what you remember, send it off, and then you’ve done what you can.”
“It won’t stay anonymous once they realize the information is legitimate,” Tabitha shook her head. “I don’t know much about forensics, but what I do know is that there’s all sorts of ways of tracking digital stuff online that most people don’t realize, and even tracing how a phone call was routed, or identifying where the paper in a letter comes from. Everything is possible. There’s experts in that sort of thing. If they want to, if they’re determined—they’ll absolutely find out it was from me.”
“So—what happens then?” Alicia asked.
“I have no idea,” Tabitha shook her head. “But, I imagine a lot of interrogation and then investigation into my life. Probably a lot of restrictions going forward, I’d be monitored for sure. Regular surveillance. For years and years, maybe forever. I don’t know.”
“Shit,” Alicia swore. “Yeah, shit. Think they’d figure out the time travel?”
“Maybe,” Tabitha shrugged. “I think they’d pursue every other possibility first, though.”
“You really don’t have to do anything, though,” Elena said again. “You don’t. It’s a tragedy, sure, okay, but it’s not your responsibility. No one would expect you to stop it. Not even if you do know what happens. It’s—Tabitha, it’s not your problem. Terrible things happen everywhere, all of the time, every single day, and it can’t be on you to try to fix everything. Or even anything. I don’t mean to seem cold-hearted or um, flippant about these big serious things, but you’re a teenage girl. You’ve got plenty of your own things to worry about, your own life to deal with.”
“Maybe,” Tabitha shrugged again. “I just—it’s a lot. It weighs on me. Terrified of, of just letting terrible things happen, because I feel like I’d have to carry all that doubt and guilt and regret the rest of my life. I almost didn’t even try to save Officer Macintire, it was a kinda close thing. I was losing my nerve. It was uh, it coming up was just terrifying to me. I waited out there by the roadside where it was gonna happen for a few days at the end of September. Just in case. I planned to be there every day through October until it either happened, or didn’t happen. But, I was losing my nerve really fast. I think if it hadn’t wound up happening so early in October, I might have let the anxiety get to me and, uh, bailed out. Ran away, avoided it. Inviting Alicia to come over and ‘hang out’ was part of me just, um, trying to cope with all of the tension. Because, I wasn’t managing well alone.”
“Okay, see?” Elena nodded. “You’re not a superhero. You’re a teenage girl, you’re—hell, you’re younger than I am. Younger than both of us! You can’t be taking on all of these problems, that’s too much pressure and worry and everything to put on yourself.”
“I see where you’re coming from,” Tabitha winced. “I do, I really do. But, then—what about Hannah? What about Mrs. Macintire? What about Officer Macintire himself? He’s alive right now, he still has plans for the future and hopes for what he does with his life, and—and thinking about the what ifs, even just imagining that I’d not even tried to save him, save them. It makes me physically ill, makes me nauseous and sick, makes me feel like I have my stomach ulcers again. I feel all of that more than I feel proud or brave or strong or whatever people make me out to be, because I know just how close I came to not trying to save him.”
“Alright, stop stop stop,” Alicia made the time-out signal with her hands again. “This is—this is some real heavy shit, so I’m calling stop. All of this is too much for you to deal with, obviously, so, obviously, we—the three of us, together, as a team of best friends, will figure all of this out and hammer out some sort of plan. Later. Trying to stress about all of it right now is not productive. From what you’ve said, we still have loads and loads of time, it’s not even 1999 yet. Okay? Calm down, chill out, and—here, there’s the Hot Topic. Let’s go check out ‘Lena’s digs. Cool?”
“Cool,” Tabitha slowly exhaled.
Since Tabitha remembered the Sandboro mall’s Hot Topic from her past visits in the 2010s, visiting in 1998 felt wildly anachronistic to her expectations. The store was still draped in the usual black, but now it felt oddly subdued and off-kilter from the theme. What Tabitha thought of as hipster fashion was not yet a multibillion dollar industry, retro video games and cartoons weren’t exactly retro yet, and anime didn’t have the foothold here it would in the future. Unfamiliar paraphernalia like the wrestling stuff—WWF and NWO, Simpsons, and South Park seemed to be crammed in to fill the gaps.
Many shirts on display were minimalistic to the extreme in design—an entire rack of black tees seemed to each feature nothing but a single sentence of snarky text on the front, most which Tabitha would have classified as boomer bumper sticker humor, the kind of one-liners that would one day be immortalized as jpeg Facebook memes. Like the rest of the mall it was busy here today, with a dozen odd shoppers from tweens to teens looking around the store, most of which were dressed at least as Goth as Elena.
“Hey, did it hurt?” A sarcastic voice called out to Tabitha, loud enough for most of the shoppers browsing through the wares within Hot Topic to turn to see what was going on. “...When you fell from heaven?”
The girl behind the Hot Topic counter was staring her down with a challenging smirk, by all appearances affronted that a younger teenage girl had the gall to walk into her store wearing all white. The blouse and jeans hadn’t seemed quite so out of place when they were making their way down the concourses of the mall, but here in this particular store… her bright attire of course stuck out like a sore thumb.
I just knew the whole ANGELIC look would come back to bite me somehow, Tabitha did her best not to wince as she suddenly became the center of attention. I knew it. Something always does.
“Did it hurt when I fell from heaven?” Tabitha repeated with a strange smile. “I’m not quite sure how to take that. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Wasn’t that the line from the book of Isiah? So—is this damning praise, or just damning?”
“Uhh no, I think she’s just flirting with you?” Alicia regarded the scene with a bemused grin.
What should have been a tense and nerve-racking moment of unexpected social interaction instead felt completely… bizarre. When Tabitha saw Ziggy’s washed out green hair styled into a messy array of spikes, her first thought was Delilah. While so much of Tabitha’s long previous life was a struggle to remember, certain little unbidden tidbits seemed to bubble up past all the knowledge that would have actually been useful to remember and take her by surprise—Delilah had been the punk sidekick witch of the antagonist Agatha Cackle in the 1986 Worst Witch film. As if disturbed by plucking one vivid memory out of the disorganized pile of junk that had been pushed back into this recess of her mind, dozens of other embarrassing memories suddenly tumbled out.
Tabitha for the life of her couldn’t remember the names of acquaintances she’d gone to school with for years in her early life, but she could vividly recall the name Enoby Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way, the mary sue so infamous that dramatic My Immortal readings had been performed at conventions and upon Youtube for more than a decade following its storied release. The fanfiction had been a scathing satire of the precise store Elena had just led them into; the angst and cringy edge of Hot Topic Goth. The repressed but not forgotten phase that it seemed every girl felt call to them at some point in their teens, where emotions were so dark and profound that they traveled full circle to become superficial and even campy, like Addams Family and Edward Scissorhands and other dark comedy films that introduced so many to the genre.
As such, how could Tabitha feel intimidated by this older goth teen? What did this Ziggy know about gothic—Ziggy’s subculture knowledge was still prototypical, trapped in the times of 1998. She wouldn’t be able to recognize a gothic icon like Helena Bonham Carter from a police lineup of ne’er-do-wells, wouldn’t know who Amy Lee was, she wouldn’t even be able to recite a single verse from any of the Repo: the Genetic Opera songs. She was unaware of the big Warhammer 40K Sisters of Battle movie that brought gothic back into the limelight in the 2030s, she hadn’t read or even watched Wildbow’s Worm. Tabitha felt herself so full of dark secrets and terrible knowledge that it was hard not to giggle at the absurdity of it all.
“Ziggy, this is Tabitha,” Elena warned. “My friend I told you about. The one that like, first brought me here, sorta. She’s the reason.”
“Girl who got hurt at that party?” Ziggy leaned back a bit, sizing Tabitha up. “Really?”
“She didn’t just get hurt, she died,” Alicia spoke up. “Tabitha was murdered on Halloween night—they have a death certificate for her and everything. They didn’t think she could come back, but then… she came back.”
The Sandboro mall’s crowded Hot Topic actually went silent, and even more heads turned their way. Tabitha felt herself flush but fought to keep the actual embarrassment out of her expression. Alicia’s boast was technically true, aside from the party being the night after Halloween. If the series of bizarre and unfortunate experiences gave her gothic clout, who was she to say otherwise? The various teenage girls cloistering themselves here in the shadows of what seemed to be the one subculture outlet in their area were all staring at her.
“And, this is Alicia,” Elena continued with a sigh. “They’re my best friends. So, Ziggy, if you could not give them a hard time about—”
“So whoa, you like, died and came back?” The Hot Topic employee asked, interest appearing despite the facade of disdain and cynicism she was putting on for Tabitha. “That’s pretty cool. How much of it do you remember? You see any other side spooky kinda shit?”
Okay think think think, what’s a good one? Tabitha’s mind raced. ‘Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated?’ No, that’s not EXTRA enough. This whole meeting is full on melodrama, I’ve gotta be EXTRA, gotta pull out like, a real chuuni one...
“It was not by my hand that I am once again given flesh,” Tabitha gave Ziggy the subtle condescending smile she’d practiced upon her cousins so much. “I was called here by humans who wish to pay me tribute.”
“Jesus,” Alicia swore, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter.
Several of the shopper bystanders’ eyes widened, she earned a few smiles, and the confrontational look Ziggy wore faltered—while Tabitha felt what seemed like all the blood in her body rush up to her face.
She honestly had no idea where the line was even originally from, it was just a funny one she remembered surfacing in an awkward family photo memes compilation, the words appended to a random little girl who’d had a particularly manic look for the camera on some Christmas morning. While she wanted to be able to pull out impressive Gwennisms and be able to recite Lovecraft at clever moments like in Metaworld Chronicles, this entire over the top situation had her head swimming with silly internet memes and half-remembered goffick lines from the My Immortal fanfiction.
But like, they can’t OUT-CRINGE me, Tabitha felt full of confidence like never before. I’ve seen levels of cringe beyond their mortal comprehension.
“She’s my friend,” Elena attempted to mediate with an uncertain smile. “She really did get hurt, and it was bad. She’s my friend.”
“Sure, sure,” Ziggy’s eyes darted from Elena to Tabitha and back again in discomfort and the girl finally just crossed her arms in front of herself. “So, what brings you guys here on this our most blackest of days?”
“I wanted to meet you,” Tabitha said. “You were here for ‘Lena, so I had to check you out— make sure you weren’t too mall goth or mainstream or anything like that.”
“Do I look mainstream to you?” Ziggy laughed, looking around in disbelief.
“To me? You look very… anime,” Tabitha admitted.
“You’re… into anime?” Ziggy seemed bewildered by each and every sentence from Tabitha. “Cool. Like, not many people even know about anime. We sell anime here, we have a bunch of tapes.”
“Really?” Tabitha’s eyes lit up. “I’m looking for anything Studio Ghibli. I’ll be looking after a little girl for the next few months, and she adores Disney movies. I want to get her hooked on anime early. My Neighbor Totoro, or Kiki’s Delivery Service, or maybe Castle in the Sky.”
“You, you really do know anime,” Ziggy mumbled in shock. “I—wow. Have you seen Princess Mononoke?”
“I love Princess Mononoke!” Tabitha beamed. “Do you have it?! If you have it, I’m buying it.”
“We, well no, it’s not out on home video yet,” Ziggy said. “The only one of those we have is Kiki’s Delivery Service on VHS, just got it in stock last month. But, like—how did you even see Castle in the Sky?! Can’t find copies of it anywhere, and the release they had for that was only on laserdisc, I’ve asked. Do you have a good source for like, subbed anime or bootlegs from overseas, or something?”
“I wish!” Tabitha said, holding up her bank envelope. “In any case, I’ll take a copy of Kiki for sure, and—show me all of the anime you have!”
“I-I watch Sailor Moon every morning when it’s on!” Alicia interjected. “That’s anime. Right?”
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“Soooo, that was weird, right?” Alicia commented when they finally trooped on out of the Hot Topic. “Both of them.”
“Both of who?” Tabitha asked.
“You and Ziggy,” Alicia gave her an incredulous face. “C’mon—that was weird.”
“It was a little weird,” Elena said.
“I’m not weird,” Tabitha protested with a cute pout, adjusting the little black bag that held her new acquisitions; two anime tapes she could watch with Hannah. “You’re weird!”
“First of all,” Alicia’s voice rose. “She was totally flirting with you.”
“She was not,” Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Please. She was being funny and dramatic, because I walked in like this, wearing all white, when the Hot Topic aesthetic’s supposed to be all black. Calling me out like that was just a joke.”
“No, like yeah I noticed that, but she was still flirting with you. It was weird. Then, it’s also like—you weren’t scared of her at all, or intimidated or pressured or anything. Even though she’s older than us, she’s what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“I think nineteen,” Elena said. “It was a little weird.”
“I guess it’s—it’s hard to explain,” Tabitha chuckled. “I couldn’t take her seriously, and, because of the circumstances I felt like I had her at this massive disadvantage. Because of all of the future subculture I’ve absorbed. Also she’s like this… try-hard goth, but years and years too early to be self-aware about that? I guess—”
“Hey, take it easy,” Elena crossed her arms. “She’s my friend, too, alright? She’s cool.”
“Oh, I know,” Tabitha quickly reassured her friends. “I like her—it’s like I knew I was going to get along with her right away, because we share so many interests. It’s just, I guess as time goes on and phases come and go, her whole… overdramatized goth thing becomes ripe for… not mockery, exactly, but—”
“Are you saying she’s a joke?” Elena was beginning to bristle. “Are goths a joke to you, am I just a joke to you?”
“That’s not what I mean,” Tabitha let out a wistful sigh. “Just—when you look back at things, not just as an individual but as an entire millennial culture, things look different. You’ll have different perspective on who we were, the journey we’ve been on. The more exaggerated things are what we’ll remember the most, they’ll stand out in memory.”
“So—what’s that supposed to mean?” Elena remained tense. “About being goth.”
“It means someday in the far future, I don’t know. Maybe you will laugh about it,” Tabitha shrugged. “But, I think you’ll also remember it fondly, and I know that you’ll cherish it forever. This is an important part of making you into who you are. I don’t mean to make light of that, I’m sorry. I’m just—I’ve been there in the future where we all do have to look back on things and see them in a different light. I’m not making fun of you, though—Elena, you’re amazing.”
“Still don’t believe you about being from the future,” Elena said. “And, I don’t mean to be touchy, but just—”
“We’re dumb kids, of course we’re gonna look back on all this and laugh,” Alicia interjected. “I’m the weirdo art girl, Elena you went full-on goth like, super fast, and Tabs—do I even have to say it? Tabs is super fucking abnormal. But, so what? We’re all friends, we’re all cool with each other, and Tabs got along fine with Ziggy, they were all cool. I just… I don’t want them to date. That’s too far.”
“I’m not going to date anyone!” Tabitha groaned in exasperation. “I am thirteen. That’s barely even a real teenager like you two, you’re both fourteen. Right now I’m still basically a child.”
“You turn fourteen in like, a week,” Alicia scoffed. “And you’ve kinda-sorta turned all the way to sixty before!”
“Well, that was then, and this is now,” Tabitha let out a mock harumph. “Should have just kept the whole thing secret.”
“Yeah, well. You didn’t,” Elena rolled her eyes and finally smiled. “So—where we headed next?”
“Okay, what I’m looking for is, um,” Tabitha scrunched up her features as she tried to recall the correct name. “Wait, Elena, you know the mall pretty well?”
“Yeah,” Elena nodded. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for a Gamespot,” Tabitha said. “Er—maybe it’s Gamestop? Gamespot or Gamestop, or something like that.”
“There’s no store by that name in the Sandboro mall, no,” Elena shook her head. “Games as in like, video games, or games like, board games and calendars and toys?”
“Oh—video games,” Tabitha clarified.
“Electronics Boutique?” Elena asked. “There’s one down that way.”
“Um… maybe?” Tabitha quirked her lip. “I don’t recognize the name from the future, at least. Was it something like a Radio Shack?”
“No, it’s all games stuff,” Elena said. “Video games—Sega, Nintendo, that kind of stuff.”
“They sell computer games and some movies, too,” Alicia chimed in. “My dad plays Myst. We’re going to buy games?”
“Yeah,” Tabitha said. “I want to get my cousins something for Christmas.”
“Cool, cool,” Alicia bobbed her head.
“It’s down this way,” Elena directed them. “C’mon.
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The Electronics Boutique was one of the busier stores on black Friday, the glass storefront showing both small groups of teens as well as scattered pairs of parents supervising overexcited young children. Tabitha found herself surprised by how popular video games were in 1998, but her impressions were admittedly colored by the comparatively sorry state of console technology and graphics she’d found in this time period so far. To everyone else, of course, the row and rows of titles decorating the shelves were perhaps cutting edge, each promising the very latest and greatest interactive adventures to escape into.
Alicia seemed to be passingly familiar with games and leaned in to examine through the various artwork on cartridge boxes and sealed disk cases, but as they maneuvered towards the line queueing up at the counter Elena appeared to have no interest at all. Not exactly an expert on games herself, Tabitha took comfort in the fact that the franchise she was aiming for was big enough to warrant a large store display, and nervously shuffled along with the customers until it was their turn at the front counter.
“Hi, can I help you?” The sales associate was a tired-looking lanky teenage guy.
“Yes,” Tabitha took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. “I would like… one copy of Pokemon Yellow, two copies of Pokemon Red, two copies of Pokemon Blue, two link cables, and—five Gameboy Colors.”
“Holy shit,” Alicia swore.
“Yeah, holy shit,” The Electronics Boutique employee agreed. “That’s…. well, damn. Okay. You, uh—hey, just to warn you—they’ll play on a Gameboy Color, but for the Red and Blue versions they won’t actually have color, y’know?”
“You can just get your cousins regular Gameboys and save like, twenty dollars each,” Elena pointed out, gesturing up at the promotional display. “And—is it really even necessary to go that far? That’s a ton of money, Tabitha. Don’t they all live together? Can’t they just share one gameboy and one game?”
“They do already share, it’s—it’s not about the money,” Tabitha said. “They’ve been sharing everything with each other their whole lives, their whole childhoods. This, just this once, I want them to each have something special that’s all their own. After everything that’s happened… I think it would be meaningful, I think… I think this is something I have to do for them. Money be damned. Pokemon’s a really good game, we can play against each other, and this is going to be something special I can play with them.”
“So, Pokemon will become an important part of who they are?” Elena asked with a deadpan expression.
“Not… exactly,” Tabitha made a face. “I mean, I hope this becomes a big thing for them, some special part of them growing up. So I guess, yes, kinda?”
“Well, we’ve got all the colors stocked in,” the employee said as he unlocked the glass case. “So, you said five? What color models would you like? We’ve got all six—berry, grape, kiwi, dandelion, teal, and atomic purple. Seven I guess, if you’re getting Pokemon Yellow, we also have the one that comes with the special edition Gameboy color, which is yellow but has a little Pikachu on it.”
“Let’s get one of each, then,” Elena decided, pulling out her wallet.
“What?” Alicia’s eyes went wide. “Didn’t you just say—”
“Four for the boys, one for Tabitha, one for me, and one for you,” Elena explained. “Then we can all play together. Which color do you want?”
“Uh, uh, atomic purple!” Alicia admitted with a sheepish grin. “But, like—Elena you can’t just buy me a Gameboy.”
“You helped me score fifty bucks off of Carrie, so—yes, I can,” Elena stuck her tongue out. “Merry Christmas. Now you have to play with us.”
“But, no, but my parents could probably get me one for Christmas,” Alicia argued. “You totally don’t have to.”
“I have money,” Tabitha chimed in. “Why don’t I buy everyone’s, and then—”
“Ssshh, you’re doing enough already,” Elena cut Tabitha off, turning back to Alicia. “I’m just buying you the Gameboy Color, alright? Then, you can have your parents get you the actual game for it, for Christmas. Cool?”
“That’s cool, that’s cool,” Alicia said. “I just—that’s already too much. Thank you.”
“I… guess we’re starting our own Pokemon league?” Tabitha laughed with an embarrassed smile. “So, um. I’ll take the Pikachu Gameboy Color, annnnd. Every other model color except atomic purple and…?”
“Grape,” Elena said. “I’ll get grape for me, and atomic purple for ‘Licia.”
“This is gonna be so awesome,” Alicia squeaked. “We’re—Tabitha, Gameboy Colors, they’re really good, right? Like, in the future?”
“They’re good,” Tabitha nodded. “They technically have the best effective battery life of any of the handheld systems before or after, when you consider it only uses two double-As to the original Gameboy’s four. Fifteen to thirty hours of playtime.
“We’re almost three years away from the Gameboy Advance, so for the boys starting them off on the Color will see them through the first two generations of Pokemon. I don’t want to risk original Gameboys not being able to play for Pokemon Gold, Silver, and Crystal for them, because I’m iffy on backwards compatibility and—obviously, I can’t just google it.”
“Google it,” Alicia repeated in a daze. “Right. Google it, that’s a thing. That uh, that makes sense? You seem to remember a surprising amount of the game stuff.”
“How much of all that she just said is true?” Elena asked the Electronics Boutique worker, jerking her thumb towards Tabitha. “About the game stuff.”
“Uhhhh, I—don’t know?” The salesperson gave her a helpless gesture. “It’s a good game system though, I hear. I have the Gameboy pocket myself, it’s great. And I’ve played Pokemon Red before. They’re pretty good? We, ah, we have a demo thing over there with the stand and all if you want to see how the colors actually look for the Gameboy Color.”
“Some things just randomly really stick with you, okay?!” Tabitha admitted to her friends with a furious blush. “I’m not super clear on a lot of things, but I do know way more than I should about some real trivial absolutely useless things, okay? None of you are going to beat me at Pokemon, ever.”