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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Faking It for a Friend"  As usual, you're early to school—Keith likes to get to Westside early, so he can be sure of dodging his archenemy, Seth Javits, on his way in. This morning, though, you've got another motive for being early—to be sure of catching Will Prescott as he arrives. The parking lot is filling up fast before you see the white truck that used to be yours pulling in. The figure behind the wheel is just a blob, and not until he's parked and dismounted to you recognize him as ... one of your friends. It's a lot weirder seeing him this morning. Yesterday was like a one-time weirdness. Oh, look, ran the subtext of that scene inside your truck, he's me and I'm him. This is bizarre. This morning, though, to see him drive up in your truck, in your clothes—burgundy t-shirt, floppy trousers, low-slung ball-cap pulled down over stiff spit-curls—with your backpack, fresh arrived from your house, where he spent the night in your bed ... Well, the last time you had this feeling was when you changed schools back in elementary school. This isn't my school, you found yourself thinking the first few days, as a kind of homesickness swept over you. I'm only here for a few days and then I'm going back to my real school. It made the nausea worse to know that you were lying to yourself. But this is my school. Now. And it's going to be my school from now on. Yuck. Is it going to be the same way now? Are you going to be Keith Tilley from now on? "Hey, 't'sup?" you call out to Will as you strut up to him. (Maybe if you throw yourself into the role, you will feel better.) "You reck-con-siled to flunking all your pop quizzes today?" You punctuate the jibe with an insolent jerk of the chin. Will shoots you a spiteful glance. "Jesus, you're just trying to be a prick about it, aren't you?" "Don' know what you mean, man. I's just askin' 'bout your ack-si-demics." You snigger. "You know. 'Accidents.' 'Academics.'" "Oh, is that what you were going for." He hunches under his backpack and darts his eyes—his rabbity eyes—about the parking lot. "You don't have to lay it on so thick, you know." "No, I don't know. You're not talking a lot of sense, Prescott." He wheels to give you long, sharp stare. You chuck your chin back at him and smirk. It looks like his eyes are starting to water when he asks, in a very low voice, "You remember when we got together yesterday?" You are—briefly—tempted to pretend to have amnesia, to freak him out hard by laying on the "Keith" act without a break. But you find that you—or maybe it's Keith's own personality—can't keep a straight face. "Oh sure," you drawl. "Like, I remember you telling me I had to be 'Keith Tilley'"—you hook a couple of big air-quotes around the name—"like I was some brainwashed dopester who didn't know better. So, you know." You shrug and roll your tongue around inside your cheek. "I'm gettin' in practice." "Well, keep it under control, man." Will seems to bristle all over. "If you overplay it and any of the guys pick up on it—" "How are they gonna do that? It's just gonna be a bunch of betas I'm hanging with, right? The real guys are gonna— Oh, hey!" Every muscle in your body flexes, including the ones in your shorts. "Are we gonna start hanging out wit' cheerleaders? With Eva and— Did the guys get ahold of Jessica last night? What about—?" "Shut up!" Will glances around the parking lot. "Yes, they got Jessica." "What about Maria? And—?" "That's on today's schedule. And no," he peevishly adds, "you're not going to be hanging out with cheerleaders!" "How come not?" "Take a selfie and then ask yourself how come not." "Ain't you gonna be hanging out wit' cheerleaders?" "Well, yeah." "And ain't I gonna be hanging out wit' you." "Not if I can help it," Will snarls back, and stalks away. You let him go, and content yourself with a private chortle. At least you've given Tilley a pretty good idea of how annoying he can be. * * * * * You get another chance to badger him in the Film as Literature class you share second period. "When're you gonna come out and do that extra credit thing for in here?" you ask after he settles into the desk in front of you. "My peeps is all set up for you. Hey!" You poke him in the back. "I'm asking you when—" And you get a third chance to bother him at the start of fourth period, which is Keith's free period, by waylaying him in front of Ms. Gladstone's classroom as he and Caleb are on their way in. "Hey, we eatin' like it's just us today?" you ask. "Or we hanging out with Carson and them? 'Cos I got a feeling in my shorts like Eva Garner's gonna be showin' up to hang out with Jenny." Then you return to meet them at the end of fourth, as they head out for lunch. "So I's gonna go hang out with Jenny an' them," you inform them, "but if you two's wanna go off and suck each other's dicks—" "You go hang out with Jenny, then," Caleb interrupts you. He seizes you by the elbow and steers you down the hallway. "I'll hang out with them too, so it won't be too gross for them." "Cool. I mean, what?" You glance back down the hallway after Will, but only catch a glimpse of the back of his ball cap before he vanishes into the surging lunchtime crowd. "Where's Prescott off to?" "He's meeting with some guys to talk some video he has to make." "Mike and Carlos?" you exclaim. "My peeps?" "You don't have 'peeps', Keith." "Sure I do! Me and them, we—" "We're going to have lunch out front. Didn't you say something a feeling you had in your shorts?" "Oh yeah. But— Well, whatever." You give up on following Will out. You figure you can pester him after class. * * * * * You didn't actually have a premonition about Eva (or her sister) showing up to eat lunch with Jenny and her friends out front, and she doesn't, so you get the full brunt of it from Carson and James. "You seen your boyfriend around today?" Carson asks you. "Fuck you! What boyfriend?" "Javits." "Oh, fuck you! No, I not seen him." Instinctively, you glance around with a flinch. Seth Javits, psycho basketball player, sometimes hassles you, but he really has it in for Keith. You shudder at the memories you now have of some of the things he did to your friend. "I'm asking because I know he's constantly up your ass—" "Fuck you!" James says, "Well, next time you and him are on a date—" "Jesus!" "—throw up an amber alert or something so we can come around to watch." "What you fuckers want to do with watching?" you sputter. "We don't want to watch," Carson starts to say. "We—" "So how do you usually summon him?" James asks. "You put the lights out in the E wing boys' bathroom, and chant his name backward three times while gazing into the mirror?" "How about you give it a try, cocksucker?" "Oh, leave Keith alone," Jenny interrupts. "If you want to find Seth— Don't you guys have any classes with him?" "He's not smart enough to keep up with us." "Johansson's got math with him," you pipe up. "Thank you, Keith," Caleb grumbles. "Javits never takes Johansson dancing," Carson says. "At least, not as much as he—" "Or how about Prescott?" With glee you seize on the idea of getting the real Keith in trouble with his nemesis. "If you're looking for bait to dangle in front of Javits—" "And where is our number-two dipshit today?" Carson asks. "Dipshit?" You frown in shock. "Business lunch with some other guys," Caleb says. "Oh," says James. "That's how come you came looking for company." Dipshit? you think again. "Yeah, he's taking a page from my play book," you say, "gonna get him some extra credit by making a video." A pained look flashes across Carson's eyes. "Extra credit by making a video?" "Sure. For our film class. Me and my peeps have a YouTube channel, and he's gonna make a video for it. Talk about a movie or something." "I don't know which is more embarrassing for him," Carson says. "That he's trying for extra credit by making a video review for a YouTube channel, or that he's taking the kind of class where a video review will get him extra credit." "Hey! I'm in that class and I did a video for extra credit!" "And here you sit, thinking that's some kind of brag." "Fuck you! Fucking smug, know-it-all prick!" You're still fuming about it as you and Caleb saunter back to class. "And where do they get off," you demand of him, "calling Prescott a dipshit?" "The number-two dipshit," he corrects you. "So who's number one?" "If you have to ask, Keith, the answer is you." * * * * * You make it to the end of the day without being spotted by Seth, and you spend the last two periods watching Jessica Garner—who shares those classes with you—from the corner of your eye. That's really Carlos Montoya, you tell yourself, though nothing about the girl looks out of character as she chatters with Jenny and some other friends. You wonder how she'd react if you—a supposed beta who knows all about what's going on—tried horning in on her and her business. So it startles you when you get a text from Carlos' number. Beta-Carlos apparently wants to meet up with you. Next: "Life Among the Fakes" |
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