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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Clover Mystery Deepens"  "Jack!" you call. "Hey, Jack!" He turns a face dark with anger on you. But he forces a smile, and waits for you to jog up. "You got a minute?" you ask him. "Sure. I—" "I promise it isn't about, you know, that stuff I was asking you about before. With those girls." Except it is, a fact you realize only now that it's too late. You're going to ask him about "Clover Mystery," when "Clover Mystery" was the topic that you got mixed up with him and those other girls, leading to all that embarrassment. But before you can figure out a way to back out, Jack pushes up close to you. "I saw you out at The Flying Saucer last night, didn't I?" he asks in a hard voice. Your heels hit the wall as you back away. "Yeah, I was out there with my friend, Caleb." His eyes narrow. "And who was I with?" You blink at him. "Chelsea, I thought." He slaps the wall by your ear and does a fast, three-hundred-and-sixty degree twirl. "Fuck!" he barks. "You saw us! You're a witness!" "A witness?" you gulp. "You saw me out there with Chelsea! Talking, right?" "Yeah." Whatever this madness be, you think, better him than me! He grabs you by the shoulder and hustles you into the gym. From the east court comes the squeak of rubber soles on polished wood, and the bang of a rubber ball. The basketball team is practicing, but they're at the far end of the court when Jack drags you inside. He ignores the scrum under the far basket and cranes his head to look up into the bleachers. Chelsea is holding court there, with her bag and coat spread out around her, and with two of her acolytes, Kendra Saunders and Gloria Rea, flanking her. She has her phone out, as does Kendra, and she is scrolling through it; Gloria is watching the boys practice with an expression of boredom. There are some other students scattered across the bleachers, but those three have the central spot, and in their bright clothes they are impossible to miss. Jack stares up at them, but they pay no attention to him. After a minute he drags you to the bleachers opposite and pushes you up them. You have no idea what's going on, but it has to do with Chelsea, so you figure you'll wait until Jack gets done, and then you'll see what you can glean. He parks you on a bench and stands beside you, gazing across the way back at Chelsea. She doesn't seem to react. After another minute of this, Jack drops down next to you and takes out his phone. He taps furiously into it, then leans back to glare at Chelsea again. She is concentrated on her phone already, so there's no change in her posture before Jack's phone chimes with a reply of some kind. He stares at it, barks aloud, then gets up. He makes no sign for you to follow, but you hurry out after him anyway. "What was that about?" you ask when you're outside. "Huh? Oh, just showing Chelsea that you were with me. That I talked to you." He glowers across the front quad with his hands on his hips. "Fucking bint." "What's going on?" He gives you a sidelong look, then shakes his head. "I got a text last night that she wanted to talk to me, meet with me, up at The Flying Saucer. She wanted to talk about me about joining the cheerleading squad. It's not a girls-only thing, you know," he adds, as though that would be an objection. "So we met and we talked. She said she wanted to reorganize the squad, get some of the 'dead wood' off it, get someone like me on." He shakes his head again, and his voice tightens. "She even talked about getting me some kind of 'student aide' position, as a 'choreographer'"—he hangs some quotation marks in the air with his fingers—"if the reorganization didn't go through. We had a really good talk." His face darkens, and he swings around to kick the gym wall. "Fuck!" "So what's wrong? Something happen?" "I went to talk to her about it some more 'cos I had some ideas. And she told me she didn't know what I was talking about! Said she didn't talk to me last night, said she was with her boyfriend all evening back at her place!" Jack throws his hands into the air. "She fucking laughed at me, said I was the last person she'd want on the squad." His lips twist into a snarl. "She asked if I'd come down with some kind special brain cancer!" You stare at him. "But I saw you guys talking there last night." "No shit!" he yells. "God damn it!" His swarthy face has passed from red to purple and is closing fast on black again. He is trembling all over, and his hair is bristling. As he blinks rapidly, you realize he is on the verge of bursting into tears. It is quite a change from the calm, smooth, confident character you were hanging out with only a week or so ago. "Maybe it's because you were talking about it in front of Kendra and Gloria?" you suggest. He doesn't react. "Maybe they'd be part of the ... reorganization?" He starts, and looks at you intently. His expression remains frozen, but a feverish light comes into his eye. "No," he mutters, "I don't think so. Not them. Not from what I've—" He catches himself. "But maybe you're— Oh, fuck me!" he groans. "What?" He doesn't answer, but swings around and stalks down the breezeway toward the parking lot. After a moment, you hurry after. He gives you a sidelong glance, and with an ache in his voice asks if you'd like to hang out someplace and talk. "You'd drive, if you don't mind," he adds. * * * * * You wind up back at The Flying Saucer, though the place leaves Jack looking a little pale, but he pays for the coffees. It is mostly deserted, so you have no trouble settling at the table where Chelsea had been, with you in her spot. Jack crouches with his elbows on the table, nursing his coffee between his hands. You didn't talk on the drive out, and even now Jack is terse and clipped. What you suggested hadn't occurred to him—that maybe Chelsea is making her plans in secret, and that he might have messed them up, and messed up his own chances for joining the squad, by leaking them prematurely. "They're a couple of gossips, Kendra and Gloria," he tells you. "If Chelsea's planning on doing something about the squad, they might leak it to the girls that Chelsea's thinking of cutting. That could fuck things up." "I'm sorry," you say. "For what?" He makes a face. "Maybe you saved me just in time from doing something worse." You let the moment steep, then tell him you had your own talk with Chelsea, about that missed date with Maria at the other coffee place. "Oh, is that what was going on?" he says, but he sounds only half-interested. "We can all vouch for you being with Maria out at the Warehouse last weekend." "Except I think Chelsea was fucking with me. And, well, maybe she was fucking with you?" Jack's glance turns sharp. "What do you mean?" You take out your phone. "She asked for my number so she could text me, and she gave me hers. Except, she didn't. This is the number she gave me." You turn the screen so he can see it. "That's not her number. That's the number that Clover Mystery gave me. You remember Clover Mystery?" Jack's gaze goes distant. "Oh yeah. Your secret admirer?" "Someone who was hassling me about me and Caleb and our time capsule thing. It was her number that Chelsea gave me. Chelsea is Clover Mystery." Jack stares at you. "So what are you saying? That she—?" His brow furrows. "What'd you do to piss her off?" "I dunno. Maybe nothing? Maybe I just looked at her funny? But I think she was fucking with me last night, because I know she set up that meeting. I came out to meet 'Clover Mystery,' but Chelsea's who I wound up talking to, and it's Clover Mystery's number she gave me." "What's this got to do with me?" Jack asks. "I dunno. Maybe nothing. But—" "Hang on. Lemme see your phone." Jack takes it and flicks through a couple of screens. His attitude is thoughtful when he speaks again. "Maybe she is fucking with you," he says. "But maybe not. You don't think she'd want her boyfriend finding your name and number in her phone, do you?" "Well ... No." "Because what she says in these texts, it's not the worst kind of thing Chelsea has ever done." "Gee, thanks," you dryly retort. "It only fucked me up real good." "What I mean is, this doesn't sound like Chelsea when she's being mean to people. So maybe you didn't piss her off. And maybe she gave you this number because—" Jack chews on his lip. "Maybe this is a burner phone she uses to talk to people she doesn't want Gordon knowing about." He hands your phone back without waiting for a reply. "You know the only way to find out," he says, "is to call her and ask." Next: "A Private Party in the Portables" |
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