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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Set a Matchmaker to Find a Matchmaker"  "Who are you talking about?" you ask Chelsea. "What junior girl?" "Alexis Lachance," she says. "You had her for sociology last year." She takes out her cell phone and starts scrolling. "How did you know that? Who is she, how do you know her?" Why her? is the question you should be asking, but your tongue can't lay itself on those words. "Gee, aren't you full of questions," Chelsea titters. "This is her," she says, and turns the phone toward you. "What do you think?" She grins. "Is she cute?" You almost swallow your tongue. She's a clone of Chelsea herself! Well, not quite. Like Chelsea, she's a blonde and has a wide, bright smile. It's hard to tell, but she looks petite. But her hair is straight, not softly curled like Chelsea's, and she's got it pulled back in a ponytail with dagger-like bangs dangling at her temples. She's dressed very casually in a white t-shirt under a tan-colored windbreaker. She is very slender, too, and there's something fragile about her appearance, as though she's made of brittle china. Whereas Chelsea (especially in her thighs) looks like she's built for bouncing and running and dancing. "Are you suggesting her for a—" The word catches in your throat. "A girlfriend?" "No, silly. Well, not unless you like her looks. She'd help you find a girlfriend." "But I don't know her. She doesn't know me." Chelsea gives you a look. "You know yourself, right?" she says. "So you put yourself inside her, and then you use your brain and her brain to figure out who'd be a match for you. It would work like that, wouldn't it?" She loses a little of her I'm-queen-of-the-cheerleading-squad-so-I-know-best assurance. "I mean, if you're looking for a girl to give you her opinion—" "No, I get it," you hurriedly say. "But she's a junior." "Well, sure. And you could date a junior. What's wrong with that? I mean, I'd never date one"—she rolls her eyes— "and besides, I'm dating Gordon. But cast your net a little wider, Will." She shows you her dimples. "Girls loving dating older guys. You'd have a lot more choices, if you're looking for someone who's, like you say, plausible." That settles it for you. "How do I get a mask on her?" you ask as you stare, boggle-eyed, at the picture of Alexis Lachance. "Leave that to me." Chelsea takes her phone back. "You just get those masks done. We need two of them, right? One to copy her face for you to wear, and one to copy your face for her to wear. Isn't that the way it works?" "Sure. Um. And these masks I just finished for you?" "For us to test the stuff," she says with exaggerated patience. "Jeez, you don't want to screw things up with Alexis, do you?" * * * * * Chelsea's really serious about using those masks to test the new goop on, and she sends you home to fetch the ingredients. She insists on making up two batches of the stuff, one using her hair. "You might not be here when we try it out," she says. "And we wanna be sure the person obeys me if you're not around." By ten o'clock, though, you're home again, with a sensation of butterflies in your stomach. Chelsea is going to help you get a new identity, as a girl you don't know and barely know anything about. With twitching fingers you go online to find out everything you can about "Alexis Lachance" on social media. And what a presence she's got! Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, x2z ... All of them cross-linked and cross-referenced so that you only have to stick a little toe into one before you're sucked into the rest. Selfies lead to tweets which lead to Tumblr posts which lead to Pinterest pages which lead to x2z memes and chats. It almost frightens you. Are you going to have to keep up with all this stuff once you're ... this girl? Hardly any of it makes any sense, for the images mostly stand by themselves, and the comments sound like private jokes and references. But a few motifs gradually resolve themselves. First, there are a lot sketches. Furry, doe-eyed animals (rabbits and mice and deer, mostly) drawn in a cross of the Disney and anime styles; big-eyed girls in samurai costumes, brandishing katanas; shirtless, mop-haired boys with big hands and big feet. The style looks amateurish to your eye, but it suggests talent. There are no credits or links, and the commonality of style further suggests they're done by a single artist; and before long you're convinced the uncredited artist must be Alexis herself. Second is a fixation on food, particularly of the gluten-free, GMO-free, cruelty-free variety. These include tweeted links to articles about the health benefits of such and denunciations of factory farming; recipes; and lots and lots of snapshots of meals. Alexis is very slender; you hope the girl is just a nut and hasn't got an eating disorder. Third is a fervent, almost fanatical support in the Westside JV sport teams, particularly the boys' basketball and football squads. She seems particularly interested in a certain half-dozen guys, who show up not only in uniform and on the court or field, but inside the school in smiling selfies with Alexis and some other girls. A couple of the guys look familiar. You can't give their names, but you know you've had them in classes. And last—which you only notice because it puts you in mind of Chelsea, and makes you wonder if she has an ulterior interest in seeing you take on the role of Alexis Lachance—is the recurrent presence of Michelle Estrich in a lot of the pictures. Michelle is a cheerleader, but from everything you have heard (which is admittedly little), she is the odd girl out on the squad, the one with no friends, the one who got onto the squad almost on accident and has never made herself at home there. But she seems to be at home with Alexis and her friends, for she appears in many of the pictures, leaning in with a smile and draping her arm around their shoulders. So all in all, Alexis Lachance seems like your complete opposite. Maybe that's why you find yourself excited at the prospect of trying out her life. * * * * * Thursday night. Immediately after school you went shopping, then went to the community center; a few hours later, you left it with four metal strips glued into four masks. Two for Chelsea, like she asked, and two for me. Now you're up at the high school. "So what have we got?" Chelsea asks once she's got the fuck room door closed. In answer, you present her with a mask. "And this'll copy everything?" she says as she turns over and over in her hands. "Then we put that stuff inside the mask, and put it back on her, and she'll be like Gordon?" She looks up at you. "She'll have to do what I tell her?" "I think so," you reply, and ignore her use of the feminine pronoun. But the thought It's gotta be Yumi, or Lin, or Cindy, can't help forming in your head. "Or," you continue, even as you try to ignore the ramifications of what Chelsea is about to do, "you can put this mask on her." You take out the second mask. "You can turn her into yourself and order around a copy of yourself." Chelsea's eyebrows scrunch together, and you watch as she tries to work through what you've just suggested. "Like this," you prompt her. You continue even after her phone has chimed and she has taken it out to study the text. "We copy, uh, her into one mask, and we copy you into the other. Then we put that goopy stuff into your mask and put it onto her. That turns her into a copy of you that you can order around. Then you can put on her mask and pretend to be her. Uh, if that's what you want." "Yeah, I'm not sure I want that," Chelsea says with brisk decision. "But thanks for the extra mask anyway. Maybe I can do something with it." She smiles at you. "We'll talk about Alexis later. You can go home now." "Don't you want my help, make sure you do it right?" you ask. She smiles again. "I think I got it. And Gordon can help me if I run into trouble." You stare at her, but she only returns an impudent smile. Yeah, you think as you drive home. It's gotta be Yumi or Lin. * * * * * So the next day, as you're at your locker, you jump when someone touches your shoulder, and you jump again when you turn to find Yumi Saito smiling up into your face. There's nothing wrong with Yumi. She's adorable, in fact. She's a tiny little Japanese girl with dark, bobbed hair and (more often than not) a determined glint in her eye. She is also more than a little bit of a firecracker, and you try to stay on her good side. She is a member of the cheerleading squad, and mostly you know her only through Jenny Ashton, who you have known since elementary school. "Hey Will," Yumi says. "I hear you're in the market for a girlfriend." A deep dimple shows in one of her cheeks. You get a very tight feeling in your chest, and you feel your eyes narrow. "Yeah? Who told you that?" "Well, is it true?" You jerk your shoulders. "I'm always interested. I mean, who isn't?" "Charles Hartlein, for one," Yumi retorts. Charles is the very "out" president of the drama club. "Yeah, so is there anyone in particular you're interested in?" "Um." You lick your lips, and shrug. "Well, there's a party tonight you should come to. There'll be some girls you could meet. Girls from Westside, girls from Eastman. I can introduce you around." "Thanks," you stammer, and return Yumi's bright smile with a sickly one of your own. Next: "The Party Crasher" |
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