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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Mindjack"  I got what I want, you tell yourself. I should take the mask off and go home. I don't need to get mixed up with Jack Li. I'm not gay, I don't want a boyfriend. And I don't want to lead him on. It would be the kindest thing if I just— Your feel your face tighten into a grimace. Before you can change your mind, you snatch up your cell phone and answer Jack's last DM with a new one. I'm running late will be there soon as can. Don't go anywhere! You tack on a thumb's-up emoji. Like Jack would do. Shit. * * * * * You weren't planning to keep the date with Jack. But now that you've changed your mind, it's like you'd been unconsciously planning to keep it all along. The "wild" clothes you bought for Chang are tucked in a sack that you hid behind the truck bench, where your mom wouldn't find them, so you're already set up to change into one of your alternate's costumes. You're pulling on the distressed overalls when Jack's reply pops onto your screen. Will wait! [Thumb's up] Get you something so itll be here waiting? You have to swallow your heart, which is fighting its way up the back of your throat. So thoughtful! I like him already! You cuss to yourself as you try to fight down Jack's waxing interest in ... Jack Li. Dammit, this gonna be a real trip, you think, and almost you back out. But by now you've passed the point of understanding Jack's interest in this stranger and into feeling it with a heart-stopping intensity. Mate Latte if they have it, you text back. (You know they do, and for the same reason you know it's Jack's own favorite.) Cafe au lait then chai latte if they don't. He's going to flip out, you ruefully chide yourself as you jam your feet into the black Converse sneakers, when he sees how close our tastes match. Jack is sitting where he can't be missed when you saunter five minutes later into the Milagro Beanfield Warehouse. He's in a tight green polo shirt that shows off his pecs, and it's like a punch in the chest when you think, Wow, he looks great! Not only is it an unusual thought for yourself, it's an unusual one for Jack. Obviously he's not used to seeing himself except in a mirror, but this isn't like looking in a mirror, it's like seeing a guy who looks just like himself, and it's pretty exciting. Your heart does a small somersault as He looks great morphs into I look great! He breaks out into a wide grin as you saunter toward him. You can't help breaking into a wide grin of your own. "Hey, you must be Jack!" you exclaim as you put out your hand. He returns you a firm handshake. "I'm Will! Sorry I'm late." "Jack Li," he replies as you slide into the booth opposite him. "So, here's your mate latte." He indicates the mug. "Thanks! Don't let me leave without paying you back." You take a sip that you pretend is experimental. "Mm! That's good! Good ones are actually kind of hard to find." "I hear you're from San Diego." Jack's eyes kindle with interest. "Saratoga Falls has gotta suck after that!" You wave it off with a laugh. "It's all about the people, you know. Anyplace is great if there's great people." You take a longer sip, and blush a little to realize you're staring hard at Jack over the rim. * * * * * The "date" that follows in nerve-wracking, but in a way that leaves you feeling elated. Jack of course wants to know all about you and San Diego and this fire that burned all your things, and about where you live and what your folks do and all the rest of your biography. At first you sink into the old panic, but once you start to talk you find it becoming easier to give glib and plausible answers. Maybe it's because you know what Jack would like to hear or would expect to hear. So you dismiss San Diego as "just another city," only one that's got an ocean next to it. "Which is great if you're a fish," you tell him, "but I don't think I'm gonna miss it too much." That fire? It was in the storeroom back of your house, where your family had packed a bunch of stuff prior to the move, so it wasn't a giant loss. "I needed some new stuff anyway," you add with a dismissive shrug. Your house is down in Acheson, you tell him, which is a convenient place for you to put it: close to your real house and pretty far from his. "It's bigger than what we could afford back in California," you add, "so I'm really digging it." And your family? Almost you make them college professors, the same as Jack's own parents, but quickly realize that would make them too easy to track down, thus blowing the story you're weaving for him. So you instead give your pretend dad a job alongside your real dad at Salopek. "It's some secret military stuff he's working on, so don't ask me for details." You wink. "I don't want to have to kill you." You keep your own answers as short as you can and press Jack to talk about himself. You pretend to be fascinated, even though you know all the answers, and more already. The most interesting thing about his recital, you decide, is how truthful he is. He doesn't pump himself up any. And of course you have to exchange notes about what you like and what you like to do. Of course, it turns out that you have very similar tastes, from music (anything with a good beat you can dance to) to movies (you both have a weakness for horror; little patience for superhero movies; and only a limited taste for musicals) to food (a distaste for fast food and a preference for organic, home-cooked meals; but you pretend to be more interested in vegetarianism, which Jack has only dabbled in). To make the coincidences less pronounced, you gush about your favorite video games, which Jack has only a limited interest in and experience with. And because you know your disguise's physique can't match Jack's, you confess that you've never really been into the whole "fitness" thing. But finally, tentatively, talk turns toward ... friends. "It must have been pretty awesome out in California," Jack says. "It's so tolerant out there." You shrug. "I mean, it's not like it's redneck country around here," he adds. "No one's gonna tie you to a fence and beat you up." He takes a thoughtful sip from his mate latte. "Of course, there's a lot of jerks." "There's jerks all over. A lot of the ones with boyfriends were jerks too," you add. As with a lot of what you've said, it slips helplessly out. It's a backhanded reference to Charles Hartlein, the very out-and-proud drama queen at Westside. He's pulled all the other out-and-proud crowd at Westside into his orbit—but for unfathomable reasons, he's brutally shut Jack out of it. If anything, Jack feels, Charles is even more cruel toward him than the jocks, many of whom are actually friendly toward Jack. Not until after you've said it do you realize, with a sinking heart, that you've more or less just "come out" with Jack. As if he ever had any doubts, you ruefully remind yourself. "It's tough," Jack says. "And when there's not a lot to choose from. And when you're kind of picky anyway." Your nerves prickle all over, and not until you glance at his face do you realize that for the last minute or so you've been avoiding giving him a direct look. Now you find that he's also looking away, at someplace in the corner behind you. I could cut it off right now, you think. I could tell him I'm not looking for anything or anyone. Tell him I just want to get through this year, then go off to college and worry about ... it ... then. After, all that's what he's decided. "So I guess the girls were telling you about the Warehouse," he resumes. "There's a bunch of us going out there tonight. If you wanna come along, get to know the scene—" He shrugs, and gives you only the briefest glance before turning to gaze out the window. Shit. This is the moment when you can drop the curtain. If I tell him I don't want to go, he'll think I'm rejecting him. It would be a real gut punch, but he won't ask me again, but I'll still be able to hang out with his friends. It would just be a thing that didn't work out between us. But you're held back by a wave of sympathy. No, it's stronger than sympathy. It's a feeling of identity. Identical yearning, identical hoping, identical dreading. But I'm not real, you remind yourself. This person I'm pretending to be doesn't exist. In the long-term it won't work. Eventually he'll find out everything I said is a lie. And then what? Besides, I'm not gay! But maybe there's a middle way. Maybe if you went to the Warehouse, but you also told him that you had a bad break-up, or that you're not ready for anything. Make him understand that nothing is going to happen, but without slamming the door on him. The moment has already stretched out too long, but you stretch it out a little longer by drinking down the rest of your mate latte. Next: "A Warm Hand in the Cool Darkness" |
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