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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Clothing Makes the Man"  It's a tough move to pull off—bumping casually into Cassie and Melissa as they are exiting the classroom after the bell's rung—but you congratulate yourself that you pulled it off. "Hey Cassie," you say. Your heart has never thumped around her like it is thumping now. "Oh, hey Will!" she says, sounding distracted. "You have fun in class today?" Fun? In class? WtF? "Yeah, I guess. What—?" "How long're you gonna be at your locker?" Melissa asks Cassie. She glances over her friend's head long enough to flash you a quick smile. "Five minutes? Three minutes? I dunno. Tell Mindy and them—" Most of what she says gets drowned out as she turns her head from you. "—see if I can get a ride." "What are you girls up to?" you ask. "Going into town," Cassie says. She does a double-take at you, and her face brightens. "Wanna come along? We're going up to the mall— Well, close to the mall, to Northgate Place, you know? That's where I work, at Thrifty Nifties, and—" If you give her a chance she'll tell you the history of the store, how she came to work there, and everything that happened there last week. "I'm doing something with Caleb and them I think," you interrupt. "But maybe I can meet up with you after that? What're you guys doing for supper?" "Huh? I dunno. Want me to text you? Or no, you better text me, 'cos we're meeting a bunch of people up at—" "Yeah, I'll text you," you interrupt. "See you around, Cassie." You sheer off, but not before catching a look of appraising curiosity on Melissa's face as she gazes back at you. * * * * * You forgot to bring a change of clothes to school, so you have to run home to the other side of town to get a new shirt—a button-down shirt that you leave hanging untucked over your cargo shorts—before running all the way across town to Northgate Place. You park at the mall, though, to put on the mask, so that you can't be connected to a vehicle that someone might recognize. You're all nerves again as you make the trek back to Thrifty Nifties across a very long and wide parking lot. All that changing around has made you late, and most the girls are waiting for you there, looking a little vexed. Mindy challenges you as you trot up with a smile: "Hey, so why don't you give us a phone number where can reach you?" You stare, then twitch. A phone number? Fuck! "Yeah, uh—" You fumble out your phone. "How 'bout you give me yours," you stammer, "so I can— I mean, I want all of your—" "Just give me yours so we can all share it around," Mindy says. She's got her own phone out. Well, that's it. You're trapped. You can't give them your real number, or the number of anyone you know. The best you can do is rattle off a random bunch of numbers. With luck, they won't discover it's a fake until you're able to figure some way out. "Yeah, so, hey, I got a credit card," you announce, to try heading off any more talk of phone numbers, "and I'm on kind of a schedule, that's how come I'm late, so if we could, uh—" "Cassie already paid for your things from yesterday," Melissa bluntly informs you. "You have to pay her back." "Oh. Uh." You look Cassie. "I guess you don't take a credit card?" She smiles shyly and shakes her head. "Well, uh—" "So how about you buy something for her," Melissa suggests, "and pay her back that way." "Melissa!" Cassie says, sounding scandalized. "I can buy my own things, and besides, with the discount—" "Buy something for me, then," Mindy challenges you with a tilted chin. "You pay me back that way, and then I'll pay Cassie back!" Melissa shoves her. But you like the suggestion—maybe because you like the idea of taking Mindy up on a challenge. You don't often get a chance—or have the guts—to push back at a pushy girl. She's a very forward and fleshy girl, with a plum-like ripeness. She's a big girl, too—not fat, but with a shapely solidity and even a muscularity that not many ] have. In fact, you can almost believe she could wrestle you to the ground and hold you there. And, given the short cut-offs she's wearing, and the blue tank top that drapes loosely over her breasts, exposing her arms and shoulders and neck and legs, you wouldn't mind getting into a clinch that ended with her on top of you. "Sure," you tell her. "You see anything here you want, or do you want to go back to Old Navy or somewhere like that?" Mindy laughs. "You couldn't buy me nothing at Old Navy but a package of socks for what Cassie spent on you here!" Cassie gasps at her and blushes. You catch her eye and—you can hardly believe it of yourself—you grin and wink at her, which makes her blush even harder. * * * * * But it's all settled this way: You buy each of the girls a small something at Thrifty Nifties—a knit cap for Mindy; a shawl for Molly; a jeans skirt for Faith; a ratty old rock band t-shirt for Melissa—on the condition that they pay you back by giving the money to Cassie. And since Cassie spent less than all that on your clothes, she buys you an old leather bandolier to wear like a sash as an accessory, and you repay that favor by out of your own pocket buying her some old cowboy boots. Everyone is flushed and laughing happily as you exit the store. Including you. You changed into your new clothes while at Thrifty Nifties, and emerged from the changing closet—it was hardly big enough to turn around in—wearing a black-and-silver striped muscle shirt under a pair of distressed overalls (with one strap hanging at your side), inside a too-large camo jacket, and wearing black canvas high-top sneakers and a gray ski beanie that you pull down to your eyebrows. It leaves you feeling tough and raffish—like a gangbanger. Why it does that you don't realize, though, until you catch Molly muttering to Faith. "He looks like Gary," she says. That would be Gary Chen, Westside High's top drug dealer. Almost you whirled back to the changing closet to pull your new duds off. But the girls—in their new wear—all cooed at you, so with a grin you kept your new clothes on and sauntered outside with them. You've still got well over a hundred bucks in your budget, which doesn't seem like much at all when you start hitting the other stores. But you hurl all caution aside and rationalize breaking your mom's limit with the excuse that you'll spend two hundred on yourself, and tell her that you went over by buying little gifts for the girls that went with you and helped you pick things out. But even then, you figure you'll have to be very careful and very choosy about what you buy. So the afternoon quickly segues into the early evening as, like a pack of grazing herbivores, you and the girls move from one store to the next, eyeing and photographing various clothes and combinations. They're a little puzzled by your choosiness until you explain that you're on a budget, and that these clothes are going to be your "social" clothes," your "party" clothes, your "styling" clothes—you'll pick yourself up some basic jeans and t-shirts and the like later on your own—and then they really come to life. If, yesterday, you felt like a living doll being dressed up by elementary school girls, today you feel like a fashion model being fought over by a lot of amateur designers. Mostly you wind up taking advice from Melissa, who has a sharp eye and seems to pick up on what you yourself are too timid to admit: that you want the kind of eye-catching clothes that will get you noticed when you come into a room, but which won't scream that you're an attention-whore. So you wind up with a burgundy hoodie with dark vinyl sleeves; a tight, striped polo shirt; and a light lavender button-down shirt that they pair with a thin, fabric tie. Afterward, exhausted but happy, you all collapse inside the Arriba Mexican Cantina at the mall. The chips and salsa have just arrived when your phone vibrates with a text. You unthinkingly answer it, and your heart staggers when you see it's from Cassie: She is inviting you—Will Prescott—out to join them. You dart your eyes about, and are relieved to see that Cassie hasn't noticed you answered your phone just as she was sending you her text, and the other girls are preoccupied with sending texts of their own—word is going out to bunches of their friends to come up to the mall to hang out. So you are torn. On the one hand, you can stay here and widen your social circle—or, rather "Will Chang's" social circle by meeting up with a lot more people. Or you can duck out and return as yourself, and get a listen to what everyone has to say about your alter ego. Next: "The Inside, Looking Out" |
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