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SUNLIGHT IN THE DARK
The first time Marina performed with Pearl, it was in some sort of room crowded with tables and people gathered around them talking and laughing and mocking the groups on before them. The whole area was shadows upon shadows, but she was used to that; the back of the room had full lights, but it was otherwise just the same as the rest of it. Marina stepped into the light, ducking her head and crossing her arms over her t-shirt. It was like standing in the sun and looking back at the domes.
And in the light beside her, scowling and ready to scream and bouncing on her toes in readiness, was Pearl. She grabbed Marina's elbow and dragged her out, into the middle of it all, shoved the microphone into her hands. “We've got this,” Pearl said.
They didn't have it. The audience didn't quite laugh at them, and the reviews were full of disappointment about how Pearl wasn't punk enough and Marina was strange. But right then, standing in the light surrounded by darkness, it felt like everything important was there.
Pearl didn't hear from Marina for three days after the show. On the fourth day, Pearl ordered the car to the far side of Inkopolis, a place her driver refused to take her. She buckled on her old splattershot for protection and hoofed it. She didn't quite get in a fight before finding Marina's apartment building, a ten-story sagging thing of broken bricks and windows. Marina's apartment was on the eighth floor, number 88, and Pearl knew the lock was broken so Rina rigged it up special so the door'd open if she kicked the bottom inside corner while pulling on the handle. Better than any lock Pearl'd ever had.
Pearl pushed open the door. “Marina--” Pearl stopped mid-sentence, because Marina was sitting on the holey couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, hugging them, her head turned away from the light leaking in behind Pearl. All the lights were off, the curtains closed, so she was barely more than a dark form in a dark room.
Pearl marched right past Marina and jerked the curtains open, the whole curtain rod crashing down and flooding the room with light. Pearl spun on her heels back to Marina, who was blinking like she hadn't seen the sun since that disaster of a performance, and grabbed her legs and shoved her feet on the floor. “Don't pay them any attention,” Pearl said, getting right in Marina's face. Marina flinched, but Pearl grabbed her chin so Marina'd look at her. “We belong on stage, together, and we're a band so you're going to stop moping and come practice with me.”
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Wahoo World's band day was overwhelming. She and Pearl were scheduled for 12:45-1:30. Sixth band of the day. The 12-12:45 group before them. The 1:30-2:15 group after them. They wore matching WAHOO WORLD BAND DAY t-shirts with their names and the name of their band on the back and long khakis, and the stage was the gazebo by the entrance, near the merry-go-round and ice cream shop.
There wasn't much time for set-up, sound check, singing, and breakdown in 45 minutes, but they only had two songs anyway. Pearl wanted to warm up on the roller coasters, but Marina's hands were sweating and her mouth was dry and Pearl towed her to the actual practice rooms (dressing rooms for cast members, not soundproof in the slightest) and they got through it and after, they rode all the roller coasters eight times each screaming their lungs out.
But what stuck with Marina was the brief stretch they were inside the gazebo, playing. The bright sunlight surrounded them but didn't touch them, couldn't touch them, and the cheers and yells and laughter of the world around them seemed distant. It was just Marina with her turntables, Pearl with her microphone, a recording of the guitars and drums because they didn't have a live band. The two of them alone in shadows, reaching out to the light.
Marina's hands were shaking when she packed up her keytar, so Pearl grabbed the case and carried it for her. She also opened both their lockers and packed away their things while Marina slid to the ground, the narrow shadow covering her, and put her head in her hands. Pearl wasn't going to stand for that, so she turned to Marina, who was still one breath short of hyperventilating, and grabbed both her hands. “It's over now,” Pearl said, giving those hands a squeeze. “We were fresh as all fuck, and don't you forget it.”
Marina blinked at her twice, looking down at their hands then back up at Pearl's face. “It's different for you,” Marina said, even as she let Pearl tug her up, into the light. “You belong here.”
“So do you, Rina,” Pearl said, keeping hold of one hand so she could tug Marina along behind her. “Promise. Now come on, you said you'd never been on a roller coaster before. We've gotta fix that.”
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They landed a gig as opening band for Chirpy Chips just after their third single released. They practiced and set up and did their on-stage checks, but when Marina stepped into the light, she flinched. It was sun-blinding, and the sun is dangerous, there's a reason Octarians stick to the shadows and this was so bright. Marina felt pinned to the wall.
She didn't belong there. She knew it then, sure as anything, she was Octarian and not made for the brightness, for the light, to be someone people looked at and—Pearl's hand closed around her elbow and yanked her forward, stumbling further into the light as shouts, cheers, surrounded them.
When Marina first reached the surface and stood in the sun's glow, even though it hurt to look at, she wanted nothing more than to bask in it the way she'd always been forbidden to. And that day, squinting as she looked ahead, was the same thing. All she could see was Pearl next to her, leading her to her turntables and then taking one step away and grabbing the freestanding microphone. Marina tried to look out at those lights, dazzling and dazzled, and focused instead on Pearl, surrounded by a halo and solid as the mountain Marina grew under.
Cheers rang in Pearl's ears when the Chirpy Chips went on; she waited backstage, even though the Chirpy Chips didn't call other bands back up, just in case. Marina waited with her, but unlike Pearl, she was unaffected by everything: sitting still, not wrinkling her dress, tentacles still about her shoulders. Pearl paced back and forth, stopping just out of the light coming from the stage every time, until Marina sighed and stood. “Come on,” she whispered, “if they need us, they'll look in our dressing room first.”
Pearl heaved a sigh and followed Marina. “How do you stay so calm?” she demanded, once they were far enough away; Marina once forbid her from even whispering in view of a stage unless they were on it. “I feel like lightning's ready to shoot from every tentacle.”
Marina paused to look back at her, and for a moment, Pearl saw sheer disbelief before Marina schooled her expression to blankness. “You always have enough energy to cause a hurricane, so I'm not surprised,” Marina teased, turning back to face the front. “I'm different. I have to hide away—I'm not sure what would happen if I didn't, and I don't dare find out.”
Pearl scowled at that, jogging forward to block the door to their dressing room and stab Marina in the chest with one finger. “You stop that right now,” she said, looking up at Marina's startled face. “You deserve the spotlight just as much as I do. We're a team, got it? No more hiding.”
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“YA'LL READY FOR THIS!” Pearl shouted, and the entire crowd cheered. Marina stamped her feet against the splatfest stage, just built, and it seemed sturdy (if not up to Octarian design standards). “We're Off The Hook, coming at you LIVE from in front of Inkopolis Square!”
Marina looked up, ready to say her line, and her breath caught.
The lights were behind them and below them. She wasn't blinded; she could see everything. Everyone. Pearl was glowing, her dress and tentacles catching the light and turning her into a star. Beyond her, the lights of the stage were catching on the inklings and jellies beyond, and Marina swallowed hard, because their eyes were focused on her . And she didn't know how to handle it—except maybe she did. Right now, she could choose whether or not she moved into the light, because there were still enough shadows to keep her safe.
Pearl looked back over her shoulder, just once, before they started. Her eyes locked with Marina's. She had a look halfway between scared and overwhelmed, but when Pearl smiled at her, it melted into a sort of excited disbelief. And then she was grinning back and shouted, “LET'S GO, TEAM ICE CREAM! Let's freeze those chumps on the splattlefield!”
Pearl laughed out loud and gestured almost rudely at her. “YOU HEAR THESE ICE CREAM CHUMPS? Let's show them the majesty that's cake, people! AND HERE'S SOME BEATS TO PUMP! YOU! UP!”
The band was off stage, but they knew a cue when they heard one. Pearl turned to front to start the dance they practiced with the choreographer and alone and in front of mirrors and together so many times it blurred in her head, but just before they started singing Pearl looked back at Marina again.
Marina glowed. It had nothing to do with the spotlights around them and it filled Pearl's heart, because for once, Marina wasn't hiding.
And if Pearl had her way, she never would again.