%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "When Teamwork Needs Teamwork"  You blink hard at Josie's suggestion. You and her? Switch places for the evening? Using the masks? "Uh—" is all you manage to say. Her face falls. "Yeah, okay, never mind," she mutters. "I can see you don't want—" "No no!" you hasten to say. "It's not— It's just a surprise, is all!" "You don't want to." She starts to get out of the truck. "No! I mean—! Let's do it! If you want!" You don't know why you're so pathetically eager to go along with Josie's idea. Maybe it's just that you don't want to be a dumb old kill-joy. Though what kind of joy Josie is aiming to get out of pretending to be you, you can't imagine. * * * * * Josie tries further explaining her idea to you on the drive back out the elementary school. "It's like they're making their own little club, doesn't it seem like?" she says. "Mike and Philip and now Carlos. It's like they're taking over. Doesn't it seem that way to you?" she asks. "Uh—" "I mean, it's your book, isn't it? You said so yesterday." "Right." "And now they're— I dunno. That stunt they tried today, with Mike and Carlos pretending to be each other without telling anyone. That was dumb, don't you think?" You think it was actually kind of neat, but you can also sort of see why Josie might think it was too cute. So you just grunt. She says, "I wanna show 'em what it's like being on the other end of something like that." If we're going to start pranking each other, you want to say, where does it stop? On the other hand, though: But if don't prank each other, what's the point of having these disguises? Aloud, you just say: "So you're going to pretend to be me when, uh, you go out to the cemetery tonight?" "That's right. Then tomorrow— Well—" She catches herself. "Maybe we won't tell them what we did." "You think you'll be able to fool them? I mean, you couldn't get any my, uh, memories and things the last time you put on the— And Philip says you can't until after you, like, sleep in one." Josie gives you a look. "I think I can do a put-on of you. At least as good as Mike and Carlos did of each other." "But they know each other. And besides, they had those things in the masks and they worked." "But they don't know you, do they? Not really, right?" When you don't answer, she closes with, "I think I can pull it off. Even if I get caught, it'll still be a 'gotcha' to them." * * * * * You make a circuit of the community center, to make sure no one is loitering where they can spy on you, then park and go down into the basement. Josie seems hesitant once you're downstairs, and for a moment you think she's going to back out. But with a muttered word under her breath, she tears her shirt off and rapidly starts to get undressed. With a gulp, and more slowly, you do too. Then, with you on one table and her on another, you lay down and put the masks on. * * * * * "You know what?" Will Prescott snaps. "It would probably just be better if we hanged on to our own phones." You're back at Josie's house, parked in the driveway with the motor running, when he makes this decision. It is the last thing to be decided before you part for the evening, each to take on the role of the other. Back in the basement, you woke after she did, and raised up to watch with a feeling of confusion as a skinny guy struggled to get himself inside some cargo pants and a floppy t-shirt. There was a scowl of pain on his face, and a glint of fear in his dark eyes when he peered over at you. "Can you get dressed, please?" he said when you just stared. That's when it came back to you. That's not me over there, you reminded yourself as you sat up and looked about for your things. Even though he looks just like me. I'm me even though I— You swallowed as you looked down, from your bare breasts to your bare thighs. They're a nice pair of legs. Strong, well-shaped. Some of the best legs on the squad, if you say so yourself. They're almost the legs of a cheerleader. It's one reason you like to wear shorts all the time. No, wait, you remind yourself. That's Josie talking. And I'm not Josie. Except I am. Again. The girl's natural embarrassment at being nude came all over you, made worse by your own embarrassment at seeming to ogle yourself, and you quickly scrambled into the shorts, polo shirt, socks and shoes that are Josie's typical ensemble. You don't quite rock the look the way Stephanie Wyatt does— And again you had to thrust away a thought that wouldn't have been yours. Will— It's rough thinking of him that way, but not as rough as calling the scruffy kid with the stiff, straw-like bangs and the chin whiskers and the rude, boy smell that drifts off him— Well, it's not as rough as calling him "Josie." —was very gruff with you on the drive back. Was Josie now unhappy about making the switch, even though it was ... his ... idea? Or was he trying to compensate? Or (gulp) is this Josie's imitation of how she thinks you act? But he seemed impatient, and he finally lost it as he tried explaining all the contingencies of what you should say if this person sent a text that said this, or if that person posts a note about that. So, after working himself into a state of aggravation, he said: "You know what? It would probably just be better if we hanged on to our own phones." But with an ostentatious sigh, you reach over to pull Josie's phone from his grasp, and drop your phone into his lap. "Your mask is working for me," you remind her. "And I don't get that many messages. If you get one, just say you're out with a couple of other guys and you'll get back to 'em tomorrow." Will grimaces, but relents. "Okay, I have a two o'clock curfew on Saturday nights," he now says, "but we should be done at the—" "Mine is eleven-thirty." He does a double-take at you. "What, your curfew? Are you serious?" "Yes. And if you're going to try to be me," you add, "you should have said, 'Are you shitting me?'" He makes a face. "Okay, well, I think we'll be all done out at the cemetery by then. At least I hope so." "What if you're not?" "I'll still come by here anyway. I don't want to have to see your family." "Then try to make sure you're here by eleven. Anything else?" You're tired of his company, and put your hand on the door handle. He hesitates, and you can tell he's not sure if this is such a good idea. But then he shakes his head. "Well, I'll be doing something," you tell her as you open the car door. "But I promise I won't get you in trouble." "Can't you just stay in?" he wails. "Would you?" you riposte, and slam the door. You know that answer to that question as well as she does. * * * * * You're in a bouncy mood as you come swinging inside Josie's front door, and you don't know why. Maybe it's just because you feel healthy. Healthy like you want to eat an apple. "Is that you, Josie?" Josie's mom calls from deeper in the house as you dig through the crisper in the refrigerator. "Yes!" "Did you eat while you were out with your friend?" "Yes!" you shout back, even though you didn't. And a moment later, as you're leaning against the sink, taking hard bites out of the last Granny Smith in the house, Josie's mom comes in. "I thought you said you ate," she says. "This's dessert," you mumble with a full mouth. "Oh, okay." She nods. "So tell me about him." You pause in mid-chew. It suddenly occurs to you that there's one flaw in these swapping schemes. The mask that you're wearing? It got made last ... Thursday? And today is Saturday. Which means the memories in it are two days out of date. You have no idea what Josie told her mom about the guy she went driving off with. That he's a friend? The friend of a friend? A potential love interest? So you go with a sudden instinct: a stubborn refusal to tell your mom anything about any guy that she sees you with. "He's just a guy from school," you tell her. "Oh. Well, when you said you were working on a project with him—" "It's with a bunch of guys. And Kim Walsh. You know, our student council president." "So it's a class project of some kind?" "Of some kind." "Well, when you said—" "Oops, I have to get this," you improvise as you pull your cell phone from your shorts pocket. It didn't chime or vibrate, but every fiber of you wants out of this conversation. In fact, you haven't even pretended to glance at the screen before you are pushing past your mom. You make for the hall bathroom—the nearest sanctuary. In fact, you find several messages, though they appear in threads on x2z, not in your texts. Given that you've "missed" the last two days, it takes you a bit to figure them out. But, basically, they present you with a choice of plans: Go out to the Warehouse (the city's most seductive but dangerous party spot) with friends from the Westside girls' soccer squad, or go to a party being thrown by the captain of the Eastman girls' team. Oh, but Josie said something about hanging out with Kim. And you also promised not to get Josie in any trouble. Next: "Party Surprises" |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
