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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "New Bosses, Practically the Same as the Old Bosses"  "Not yet, not really," you confess in answer to Caleb's question. He shrugs. "Well, it's not like you have to pick a new identity," he says. "I mean, if you've got some kind of ethical problem with—" "It's not that," you blurt out. The ethics of stealing someone else's body, name, and life, in fact, hadn't really occurred to you, not after some of the stuff you've already been doing. "It's just— Well, I'm trying to figure out where I want to go." "Uh huh?" Caleb asks. "So what's taking so long?" "Patterson wants us to get a bunch of new faces inside of some masks. If we're hanging out under same, uh, identities, then— Well, wouldn't it make more sense if we were in, like, different parts of the school? So we'd be able to get at a lot of different people?" He sucks in his cheek. "That makes sense, I guess," he says. Then, shrewdly: "But that's not really what you're thinking about, is it?" "I guess not," you admit. "To be honest, I kind of want to get a little distance. After the past week or so, the less I see of—well, of Patterson and Black, even if they're fakes—the better." And less of Seth Javits, you silently add. "No, I get it," Caleb assures you. He claps you on the shoulder. "Makes sense. But where do you want to—? I mean, you got any ideas?" "Not really. Only general ideas. Like ... somewhere on the marching band?" Caleb stares at you, then guffaws. "Are you shitting me? The marching band?" "So, okay, it's not the sexiest, but it's far away from— Look, I'm just spitballing here!" "Shitballing is more like it. So what other places are you shitballing?" You flush. "The orchestra? The theater program? Oh!" You snap your fingers. "Keith says he's got another set of friends. His YouTube buddies. You have any idea who he's talking about?" "Sure. You don't?" "No." Caleb stares at you, then laughs. "Fuck. He's talking about Montoya and Hollister. You know, we got them in English?" You grope for the names, and find them. Montoya is a chunky Hispanic kid with a fauxhawk, and Hollister is a funny-looking redhead with freckles. They're a couple of geeks. "Well," Caleb continues, "they've got a YouTube channel. A movie review thing. Keith's been helping them out with it. You know. He's told us all about it." "I guess I wasn't paying attention." Caleb snorts. "Well, if you're looking for fuckers who don't overlap with Patterson and Black, you can hardly get farther off than them guys. But why would you want to turn yourself into one of them? You might as well stay as yourself." You shrug. "We need to get to class anyway," Caleb says. He claps a strong hand on your shoulder and steers you toward the door. "Think about it. And think about doing something else, fer Chrissakes." But on the stairs, on the way down, he has another thought. "Hey, what about someone who works out at the Warehouse?" he suggests. It takes you a moment to figure out what he means, and even then you ask him to be more specific. The Warehouse is a party spot downtown—a literal warehouse, decrepit and abandoned, where raves are held every weekend. You've never been out, and you're not aware that anyone actually "works" there. "Sure they do," Caleb assures you. "There's the guys that deal out there. You know, weed, beer, whiskey, snacks. There's the musicians that play out there, and the security guys. If you told Patterson you were gonna take over for someone who was a regular, like, supplier out there, I bet he'd go for it." * * * * * You don't go straight to Patterson with your idea, though, after you've had the day to think about it. You wait for Caleb to get out of after-school basketball practice, and position yourself in a spot in the student parking lot where he won't be able to miss you. He's got Cindy leaning against his hip when he emerges, looking very flushed and healthy, from the gym into the late afternoon sun. He only gives you a chin-chuck, though, before steering himself and his girlfriend over to his truck. It's several hours later, and you're at home doing schoolwork, when he texts: Got sthing u want to talk abt? It's about time he got back to you—he must have been spending the whole evening with Cindy. You want to tell him that you want to steal the identity of someone in: * The marching band: "Marching to a Different Beat" * The orchestra: "Orchestrating a New Plan" * The theater program: "The Play's the Thing" * The Warehouse: "Deal Me In" * Keith's YouTube gang: "The Friend of My Friend" |
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