%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Pretenders"  Do u know how get to warehouse? LeahSomethingSomething DMs you while you're still figuring out what to reply. To your response No, she—or he or it or they—says, We can meet n go usual way to do it. You're not sure what this person means, but if they know what they're doing, you might as well go along with them. Even if you don't go on to the Warehouse—and with your curfew you doubt you should try—you can at least meet this person and either find out who they are, or catch Leah in a lie about the "LeahSomethingSomething" account being a fake. It's a thought that gives you serious pause after you reflect on it. If is Leah, why is she answering the "LeahSomethingSomething" DMs? And if it isn't ... why is this person meeting you at all? * * * * * You tell your dad that you're going out to play card games with Caleb and Keith, and that you'll definitely be home before your curfew, then drive out to the rendezvous spot that LeahSomethingSomething indicated: Eastman High School. Eastman is the cross-town rival to Westside, and it's clear on the other side of the city from where you live, not too far from the mall. It seems like an odd spot to meet up at, and it makes you wonder if your "catfisher" (if that's what he or she or it or they is) is from Eastman, or is luring you out to some remote spot for a nasty prank. Your puzzlement grows when you see a lot of cars in the Eastman lot, and as you pull in, you also see lots of kids milling about—or their shadows, for the sun is long since down, and the street lights aren't pointed at the parking lot. You park and cautiously climb out of your truck. After glancing around, you meander through the lot, peering about for familiar faces. The darkness bubbles with lots of guttural laughter as cigarettes are smoked and gurgling bottles passed around, but no one pays much attention to you. You've wandered through half the parking lot before you hear your name shouted. You look around, but your name isn't repeated, and you have to peer closely into one knot of kids before you make out the faces. "Hey," you call out, and shamble up. Brianna Kirschke—one of Leah's friends—returns you a quick, tight smile. Her friend Genesis Lee gives you a wider one. The other girls and guys only give you a quick glance and go back to chortling with each other. "Are you guys meeting up with Leah here?" you ask Brianna. "Yeah, she's here," she says. "She's around." Her head swivels. "She took off already," says one of the guys. "What? Who with?" "Brewer and them. They were going in early." "You're looking for Leah, huh?" Genesis says in a teasing tone. "You hung out with her instead of doing the scavenger hunt." "Easiest win we ever had." Brianna laughs. "I had some stuff I wanted to talk to her about. Why are we all out here at Eastman?" "It's the meeting place," Brianna says, sounding puzzled. "Where do you meet up?" "Um ... This is, uh, gonna be my first time going out to the Warehouse," you mumble. "Ooh! A virgin!" Genesis exclaims. "Who's a virgin?" a girl asks. "Will here!" "Are you a virgin?" Your face burns in the dark. "There's a first time for everything!" There are laughs all around, which you flinch from, even though they don't sound particularly mean. "Everyone carpools in," Brianna tells you. "There's not enough parking at the Warehouse. So who are you meeting up here?" Well, that's the question, isn't it? "I thought I was meeting Leah," you say. "I got a text from her. I think it was from her." "You think?" Genesis asks. You don't want to get into the whole deal about the maybe-fake or maybe-not x2z accounts, so you ask, "Did Leah say anything to you about asking me along?" "She didn't say anything to me," Brianna says; Genesis says nothing. "She was a little busy with James." An ember of jealousy stirs in your breast, even though you don't know what "a little busy" might mean. "Well, I thought I was meeting her up here," you say, and take out your phone. Im here at eastman r u here to? you DM LeahSomethingSomething. Genesis says, "I think she went ahead with James and them" as you type, but you ignore her. You're still waiting for a reply when one of the guys announces that he's ready to head out. "Who's going with me?" he asks, and the group stirs and begins to sort itself into two groups. You keep close to Brianna and Genesis. "Is there room for me?" a voice asks from behind your shoulder. You turn and do a double take. It's Maria Vasquez. Even in the dark, you can recognize her. Maria is one of the cheerleaders, and though she's out of uniform, she's dressed in a way that leaves no doubt that that is what she is. Her blouse is buttoned tight from her navel to her top of her breasts, hugging the curve of her stomach while binding her melon-like breasts in place. Her hip-hugging jeans ride low. It's dark, but you can tell there's nearly five inches of exposed skin between the bottom of her blouse and the top of her pants. "I got room in my car!" a guy shouts. Another adds, "I'm going with you!" and there's some rude laughter and jostling. Maria glances past you and says, in her soft, breathy voice, "Hey Genesis. Brianna. You got room with you?" "I think we—" Brianna starts to say. Genesis asks, "Who are we riding with?" "You were coming with me," says the guy who started the stampede. A girl says, "Shut up, Griffin." Your throat goes very dry and stiff when you feel Maria's glance falling on you. "Are you driving out?" she asks. Me? you think. Is she talking to me? She can't be talking to me! But it's your voice that answers, "Yeah, I'm driving out." "Do you think we could all squeeze in with you?" Brianna asks. "Sure! I think." You can't tear your eyes off Maria. "We can try. I got a truck." "We could all ride in the back!" someone exclaims, and a girl squeals, "Like a hayride!" And so, dazedly, you lead the pack across the parking lot over to where you're parked. You can't be sure, but you think you pick up another half-dozen partiers as you make the trip over. Certainly, your truck is sluggish when you put it into motion, like you're carrying a small herd of buffalo in your truck bed. "Drive carefully, keep under the speed limit," Brianna tells you as you edge toward the street. "You don't want a cop noticing you, pulling you over." She has to lean around Maria to warn you, for Maria is squeezed up right next to you, close enough that you have to put your sweaty hand between her knees in order to work the stick shift. * * * * * The Warehouse is a great, hulking wreck of a building in the heart of the city's rotten and rotting industrial district, next to the railroad tracks. It sags at the far end of a parking lot of broken asphalt that heaves like a frozen sea. The lot and the building itself are sprayed with acrid white floodlights that blind more than they illuminate, and looming over the scene, like an alien war tripod, is a grain elevator faced with twisting pipes and ducts. The lot isn't filled with cars, but there's a handful of burly guys to direct you to a parking spot. You're a little discomfited to see how tightly the cars are being packed in, for it looks like there won't be much room to squeeze out when it's time for you to leave. Maria apparently catches you frowning at the parking arrangement after you've all piled out of your truck, for she asks you what's wrong. When you explain, she asks what time you think you're going to be leaving. "I dunno," you fudge. "Midnight?" Your curfew is actually eleven. "Things'll just be starting to get good then," she says, and does a little shimmy in front of you. You almost swallow your tongue as her breasts swing and sway not five inches from your own. "I was planning to get donuts when I left here." "I can't stay out late," you tell her. "I have to get back"—you gulp as the tips of her breasts brush yours—"early." "Why, will you turn into a pumpkin if you don't?" Are you really going to explain to this girl—this cheerleader who has never so much as glanced in your direction—that you have an early curfew and that you're too scared of your dad to break it? Next: "El Midnight" |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
