Skinny jeans

The stars have unfolded their truths for me- just for me.

Just for me.

For once, I wake up happy. A good night’s sleep decided to show themselves at my doorstep; I welcomed them in.

For once, I actually feel like I’ve rested enough. Enough, meaning that I have enough energy to power through Mr Cally’s math class.

No one needs to know calculus. Ever.

So I stretch a bit in bed, because honestly, no one feels truly awake if they haven’t done that one oddly weird stretch that looks like an exorcism.

Heading towards my mirror, I smooth out my hair. It’s ruffled and all over the place. Rai says it looks like a bird’s nest, which truly irritates me, only because she’s right.

The person in the mirror isn’t one I recognise.

“What?” I utter. Am I still dreaming?

I rub my eyes and stare.

Okay, that’s my face. Those are my arms- I should know since I draw on them. But those clothes..?

Who even wears skinny jeans to sleep??

A crop-top hoodie that barely covers my chest is apparent to be mine, as it fits perfectly.

I own zero crop-top hoodies.

Who’s clothes are these anyways? And why did I wake up with them?

Hell should know. I’m definitely dreaming still.

Pinching myself, a ram my head into the wall.

Nope. Not dreaming.

The pain is real and pulsing through my head, coming in waves.

“Shxt,” I mumble. School starts soon, so I scramble over to my closet for a change of clothes.

But there’s none.

My whole closet’s gone.

This has to be a dream.

Some trippy, lucid dream.

How on earth could every, every, piece of clothing I own, disappear into thin air overnight?

Ugh. Rai’s going to kill me if I’m late. Now’s not the time for worrying.

I dash out the door, without eating breakfast, without brushing my teeth (yes, I know, disgusting, but I do have a toothbrush and toothpaste in my locker so suck on that), and jump into Rai’s car.

“What are you wearing?” she gapes at me. I blush and try to yank down the crop-top.

“Just drive,” I say, heat running up my face.

Rai tears her eyes away from me, and starts to drive.

I wear black. Purely, only, black.

My nickname is Gothie.

So, just imagine, everyone’s surprise when I walk into the halls, dressed in cheerleader material.

I am not cheerleader material. Not one bit.

Fortunately for me, no one has time to dwell on my clothes, for the bell has just rung.

Megs, an actual cheerleader, spots me in the doorway, and pulls me over.

“What?” I hiss. Then I see it.

My clothes from last night.

“What are you doing with my clothes?!” I seethe.

“I beg your pardon? What are you doing with mine?”

She pulls me to the bathroom so no one can see us.

“Give me back my stuff.”

“What, here?”

She nods, holding her hand out.

Am I about to strip in front of one of the most popular, most beautiful girl in the school?

No.

“Can I at least have some privacy?” I demand. “In the meantime, you can change out of mine.”

“Fine.”

I feel her eyes on me when I turn around, so I say, “there’s something else you want to say.”

“Yeah. How did this happen?”

Great question, Megs.

“I don’t know. I just woke up with your clothes.”

“Same here.”

So we just stand there awkwardly. Maybe this is, and will be our only, interaction. Megs and I, we’re polar opposites.

Ms popular-cheerleader and Ms gothic-loner.

She looks odd, dressed like that.

My fishnets are draped over her shoulders, and a tank top over that. I see she even has my four-inch platforms. But I do have to hand it to her, she’s rocking my leggings.

“You kind of look cool,” I blurt out.

Maybe it’s because she can pull off anything.

“You too,” she says, turning away.

Oh.

From her attitude towards men, to her behaviour towards women. They differ like night and day. I see it now.

She’s fruity.

“I didn’t take you as one of those people,” I say, wryly.

She whips around, a terrified look across her face.

“How could you tell?” she whispers, horrified.

“Maybe it’s the way you fit so nicely in my clothes.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re gay too, aren’t you?”

Ah.

“Yeah. I thought that was an open fact.”

Megs looks like she wants to say something.

A sudden thought occurs to me.

“Do you have anything in your closet?”

“I used to, but not as of now. At least as of this morning. It’s filled with yours.”

I see.

“Well the closet at my house is empty.”

She heads towards the changing room, and so do I.

The conversation is left off there as we change out of our clothes, and toss them over the stalls to each other.

When we remerge, she’s back in her style.

“Ahhh, this feels better,” I say, stretching my arms.

Megs smiles.

“Oh, by the way,” I say, before I leave the bathroom. “I left my number in the jean’s pocket. Call me?”

She blushes and nods.

“Your closet’s empty now. Fully empty.”

And I leave her, gaping at me.

***

She’s still staring.

Megs, over at my house.

Ms popular, over at my house, in my room.

“You have so many clothes,” she says, tossing them to me.

“Gotta stay in style.”

“You wear literal fishnets.”

I grin. “You love them.”

“I don’t.”

She does.

It’s been a year since our encounter. She’s borrowed some of my hoodies to wear, since hers are now too small.

“Really?” I whisper, tugging the strings of her hoodie. “You don’t like them on me?”

She turns red. “I do!”

“Just not on yourself.”

She shakes her head.

I leave it at there.

“How’s things going with your dad?”

A lot happened since that day. She came out, got kicked out, called me, and stayed till last week, where she moved into the university’s dorm.

“Move in with me,” I whine.

We’re dating now. Of course we are. How could we not?

“Noo,” she groans.

“Am I really that bad?”

She gives me that one look. That one look that makes me want to die of laughter.

“Okay! Okay. We’ll wait until next semester.”

Until next semester. That’s going to be a while.

“Remember what you said to me then?”

I shake my head. “When?”

“That day.”

Ah. “We said a lot of things, no?”

“Yeah but the one last thing you said before you left.”

I feel bad for not remembering. “No?”

She sighs. “Nevermind.”

I rush up to her and hug her from behind. “Your closet’s empty now.”

She laughs. “Yeah. Guess what day it is.”

“Happy uncloseting day,” I say softly.

“That’s not a word.”

“Hush and take it.”

And take it she does.

If I wake up from this dream now-

No. It’s okay. It’s not a dream.

The stars- maybe the stars really did unfold their truths, not for just me, but for Megs and I.

For the both of us.