Page 31 of Destiny

We sit there in silence, with our faces pushed close together, and my heart is pounding while I wait for him to say it back.

“I love you too, Bea.”

My heart has never felt so full. I know our future is still so uncertain, but I don’t care what happens. I know we’ll make it through.

Part 3

Chapter 1 – Bea

I don’t have time to stop home this morning, so I pull up to the record store in the same ratty band t-shirt and shorts that I was wearing on Sunday the previous day.

Fortunately, I know that I have a button-up plaid in the back that I can just tie around my waist to advance the outfit somehow.

“Still sneaking around, I see?” Micky says after watching me pull my unkempt hair into a messy bun on top of my head.

“Yeah.” Of course, I recognize her voice, but the chain clanking that always manages to come from her person also gives her away before I even turn around.

“I find it very odd.” She props herself up on the counter.

“What?” I then go to open the store, and she follows. Apparently, she brought some new posters, and she stapled some to the already-covered wall.

“That you two still have to be a secret.”

“It’s just for his girls. He’s told some of his friends. And you obviously know.”

“I get that . . . about his girls, I mean. But it’s been a few months now, no?”

I think back. “I suppose, yeah.”

“So? When is it long enough to finally tell them? Also, you haven’t told your parents yet, right?”

I avoid her question by standing back and admiring the new additions. One of them is of a strange green goblin surrounded by normal-looking human beings.

She’s brought in some weird artwork before, but this is certainly in her top five—behind Gwar and Steam Powered Giraffes. Both of which are bands that use costumes and heavy makeup as part of their personas and performances.

“Now, what is this? I can’t even pronounce the name.”

“Nekrogoblikon,” she explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Nekro—okay. And that little guy is part of the group?” I ask while pointing at the creature.

“That’s John Goblikon.”

“Naturally.” I laugh.

“He’s kind of like their mascot.”

“I see.”

She is my best friend in the whole world, but our music tastes have always been very different. While she gravitates toward the more obscure and unusual, I prefer traditional, cultural, and classical stuff. Like throat singing, Mozart, and good old-fashioned rock. That makes me sound pretentious, but I promise I’m not. Micky and I are both the notoriously weird hippie and “emo” girls in town. We’re both outcasts in our own right, are rough around the edges, and always have chipped nail polish.

“Good morning, ladies,” my mother says after walking through the back door.

“Morning,” we respond in tandem.

We’re still admiring Micky’s most recent poster, and my mom is quick to join us.”

“What on earth?”

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