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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "At Play with Cousin Brandon"  You got a Twitter DM from "Sydney McGlynn" on Friday night, containing an email address where you can contact Michael Hagerman, and after a little back and forth with him you were able to set up a fake "play date" at the miniature golf course for Saturday afternoon. Maybe it's Shelly's innate caution—or because she doesn't like to lie to her mother—but you cover for your own cover story about meeting friends by arranging a real mini-golf party with Caitlyn and some others, to start half an hour after you're to meet with Sydney. She's brought Ms. Cho with her, and sight of your English teacher outside of school gives you the usual heebie-jeebies. Teachers shouldn't be let off the school grounds! They can only exist inside a classroom! They'll suffocate and flop around like fish out of water if they leave school property! Also: Is Sydney banging this magical robot even though I'm not inside her? She better not be! He's dressed in shorts and an open-necked polo shirt, looking like a real hunk. "Nice notes," Mr. Hagerman says as you casually chat in the open-aired hut/snack-bar/picnic building next to the course. "I think I can cover for her, if you want to switch now." You squirm. "I don't got time," you explain. "I really did set up a thing with my friends this afternoon, and they're probably gonna be here pretty soon. Maybe you should get out of here!" "I'm on a date," he says, and puts his arm around Ms. Cho. She smiles at you—gloating, it looks like. "Besides, why'd you set this up if you don't—?" "I don't know," you admit. "Except we said we'd meet today." "Well, now that we're meeting—" "Look, let's just put off a switch 'til Monday. At school. I can cover for Shelly until then." You glance fearfully into the parking lot. What will my friends think if they catch me talking to a teacher? Like, very uncool! "What about tonight?" Mr. Hagerman counters. "If you can set up like you're going to a party, we could meet and switch. It's too dangerous doing it at school, we're lucky we didn't get caught. And Shelly might miss the bus again," he reminds you. You've been keeping a watch on the parking lot, and you think you see Caitlyn's mom's car pulling in. "We don't got time here," you insist. "But maybe I can work out something tonight. That'd be better anyway. Then, you know, if you need to sleep in the mask again to get all caught up—" You cast an anxious glance toward the parking lot. You're sure that's Caitlyn who's just arrived! "You know, you'll only have to get through, like, an hour before you have to go to bed!" "What's wrong, you're squirming like you have to pee." You glare at him. Is Sydney being purposefully stupid here? "Oh, one more thing," he says. "Does Shelly's mom really make professional Halloween masks?" "Yes! Now can you go get out of here? My friend Caitlyn's coming!" You dash off to the restroom, so it won't look like you were talking to teachers outside of school. * * * * * Caitlyn is the first of several to arrive, for she sent out invitations of her own, but she gleefully refuses to tell you who is coming until they start to show up. She can hardly keep from bursting about the party last night, too. "I was going to DM you all about it," she gushes. "Did you see any of the pictures that got posted? I'll send you a link! Lots of links, there's only, like a giga-hundred threads about it! Oh my God!" She covers her mouth with her hands, maybe to keep from hyperventilating. Caitlyn is taller than you—but then, almost everyone is taller than Shelly—and she's more ... "developed," too. Her hips have widened and she's got hefty bosoms, and all her gymnastics have given her a little bulk in her thighs. Like Shelly she is a pale redhead, but her hair falls in straight sheets, while Shelly's trails like lank seaweed. Caitlyn's skin also blushes more easily to a healthy pink. And she's more boy-crazy than Shelly is. So all in all, it's not a surprise when her guests turn out to be a bunch of boys. Boys she hung out with at that party last night. Daniel Belk is the first to arrive. Gross! you think. Shelly knew Steven back in elementary school, when he was a mouth-breathing little piglet with thick green snot hanging out of his pug nose, and to Shelly's eyes he hasn't grown a bit over the years. He giggles and snerks and snorts at everything Caitlyn says, and when she playfully pokes him in the stomach— Oh God, he really does squeal and squirm like a little pig! Daniel plays freshman football, and so does Ian Peck—"Ian Peckerwood," as Daniel insists on calling him—who is the next to arrive. Ian is tall, even for his age, but he's a giggler the same as Daniel, and (even worse) he's likes to talk dirty. Everything is "cock" this and "asshole" that, and "tits" is his favorite term for something bad. As in: "This is tits," he says when he spots Mr. Hagerman and Ms. Cho over at the tenth hole while you're waiting for the last of your quintet to show up. "Ms. Cho is here and she's got another teacher with her!" "Ms. Cho don't got tits," Daniel sniggers. "Shut up!" Caitlyn gasps. But her face and eyes are shining. "She's got bigger tits than Shelly," Daniel says, and he jumps back, giggling and snort when you answer with a kick to his knee. And you have to put up with ten minutes of this before Austin Ritter arrives, completing the group. So ... three freshman football players, plus Caitlyn, who were all at that party last night. They all agree it was awesome, and the cell phones get broken out and shared around as you're waiting for each other to take turns at each putting hole. The party was at the house of an Eastman High School senior, and there was sitar music and weird lights and lots of people smoking weed. Daniel brags about getting in trouble when he got home because of the smell of it on his clothes. "I got busted," he boasts, "but I didn't get grounded!" Too freaking bad, you think with gritted teeth. "Were you out there?" You start a little at the question. It was Austin asking you, and he's giving you a very direct, inquisitive look. "Huh? No, I had— My mom dragged me to another thing. With my aunt. She's a teacher—my aunt, I mean—and they had a function at her school, so—" Your face starts to hot up as you realize you are gabbling—and worse, you're gabbling about the lamest thing possible: a school function! Austin Ritter is one of the "popular" boys, not just on account of being a football player but because he's cute. His skin is clear and his features regular, and he has floppy brown hair that he keeps nicely brushed. He also dresses nice and he's not a silly goofball like most of the freshman boys are. Like, (you've already noticed) he doesn't laugh like Daniel does when Ian calls something "tits," and you've caught him shooting them a really tired look a couple of times when they start smacking each other with their putters as he's trying to line up a shot. Austin listens politely but without a lot of obvious interest until you run out of breath. And then he just grunts and turns around to take his turn at the eleventh hole. Caitlyn nudges you in the arm, then pushes you toward the next hole, leaving the boys behind. "Oh my God, you were talking to Austin," she murmurs. "Yeah. So?" "And he was talking to you!" "He was talking to you, too!" you retort. "I know! Isn't it great? I couldn't believe it when he said he'd meet us out here!" She glances behind her. "It's how come I asked Daniel and Ian to come," she adds in a near whisper. "You're trying to set yourself up with Austin?" "He said something about doing something with Chase and Elijah later," Caitlyn breathlessly continues. "I'm gonna try and see if I can tag along!" She clutches your arm. "Go with me!" "No!" You shake her off. "If you wanna hang out with a bunch'a boys—" "Don't you?" Caitlyn squeals. * * * * * Don't I? you ask yourself afterward, as you lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling while fumbling with an old Raggedy Ann doll your mom made for you when you were little. Boys are gross. That, you discover, is Shelly's settled opinion. And though some of them, like Austin, are better than others, the idea of snuggling up with one is about as enticing as snuggling up with a dog that's been rolling around in its own crap. They're loud, crude, dirty and dumb. The only ones that Shelly likes are the ones in books. Because in Harry Potter or Percy Jackson or Artemis Fowl, the boys are into magic, not girls, and they're smart and they don't call things they don't like "tits" and you can't smell them. You make a face. Do I really want Sydney inside this mask, being Shelly Nolan, when this is how Shelly feels? We're supposed to be get Shelly a boyfriend, which would be totally out of character. Shelly's thing for magic and fantasy is the only thing about her that really "works" for us. On the other hand, Sydney was into the occult before you were. Shelly would be a good fit for her. You glance at the wall, where a couple of your mom's discarded Carnivale masks—professional work she had to throw out because of flaws in the molding—hang. But I'm into the occult now, too. And masks were originally my thing. Maybe you should keep Shelly for yourself, and find Sydney a different freshman to be. Next: "In Which Chivalry Gets Its Nose Punched" |
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