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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "While You Were Away"  "I don't have to go on that date," you find yourself blurting out, and you dart your eyes between Michelle and Alexis. "I can, like, hang loose if you need to talk to me or stuff." You feel a bad tremble coming on, for you are awash with shame, now that you have both Alexis and Michelle looking at you. "Anyway," you add with a weak shrug, "it's not like it was really me who was going to go." "Okay then, what's your number?" Michelle asks after a pause. You give it to her, and she taps it into her phone. "Maybe we'll talk later." Then she adds, "I know you and I will." Then she puts her arm around Alexis and guides her to her car. Almost you suggest that Alexis shouldn't be driving, not in the state of shock that seems to have fallen over her, but close your mouth after you see that Michelle has guided Alexis over to the passenger side, and that she means to take the wheel herself. You hang back until Michelle has climbed in and started the motor, then you lunge at the driver-side window and tap at it. Michelle rolls it down. "Look," you gabble in a voice that sounds desperate even in your ears, "you have to believe I'm not a bad guy. I mean, I'm fixing everything back, right?" Michelle only stares back stonily, and Alexis ducks her head. "And the way all this started—" You twist in place as your throat freezes up. But after taking a deep breath, you force the words out. "I told Chelsea I wanted to stop things. I told her I wanted to tell, um, Alexis about the masks, and to use them to help her." You look past Michelle to the other girl, who continues to stare down into her small, delicate hands. "I know all about your, uh, health problems," you tell her, though she seems to be doing her best to ignore you. "I wanted to—" You lick your lips. "I thought maybe we could turn you into someone else for a little while. Like I was, uh, pretending to be you? You could be someone else for a little while. Someone who didn't have to worry about, uh, her health." Now you do start to shake. "Give you a kind of a vacation, as someone else, for a little while." Neither Alexis nor Michelle reply. Limply, you add, "Chelsea didn't like that idea. And then I decided to just stop everything." "We'll talk to you later," Michelle says, then digs around inside her purse to take out a bulky set of keys. "I'll call you later, and maybe you can come pick me up at Alexis's?" she says as she dangles them in front of you. "Sure. I'll cancel that date with, uh, that girl," you mumble as you take the keys. Michelle only flashes you a small, unamused smile, then puts the window back up. A moment later, she backs up, turns the car around, and pulls into the street. You watch as it slowly drives away. A minute later you slump onto the grass by the left front tire of Michelle's car. * * * * * There's nothing else to do but to wait for Michelle's phone call, so you hang out by the school. She gives you plenty of time to think, but you find it hard to concentrate. It's not that you lack things to think about. You've too many things, in fact, on your mind. Michelle and Alexis. Chelsea. That girl you're supposed to have a date with. What's been happening at your house and with your friends over the last twenty-four hours. The mess with Gordon that still needs solving. What to do with the book. But like an algebra problem with too many variables, the very complexity baffles you into passivity. One job you do manage: You text Eileen and tell her that something came up and you won't be able to see her tonight. You profusely apologize for the late notice. lol ok, she says, which you suppose might mean anything from "LOL okay" to "Don't ever try texting me again, you dumbass." The feeling that you've slammed a door shut only increases when, to your suggestion that you get together on Sunday, she pleads other plans. As twilight deepens you pace the school grounds, and dip into the school basement long enough to retrieve the grimoire and the now-abandoned masks of Michelle and Alexis and yourself. You toy with putting the latter to your own face, just to see what will happen if you try wearing a mask of yourself, but decide that it's too risky. A feeling of dread gradually comes over you. How did you get yourself into this mess? Obviously, it started when you picked up that book at Arnholm's and brought it home. And yet everything that has happened since seems like a punishment out of all proportion to that small, initial act. You bought a magical grimoire, but then you got rid of it as soon as you could. It was Caleb who got you into this mess, you reflect (not for the first time) by goofing around with the book, and then Chelsea. Okay, so you went along with her on the idea of impersonating and replacing someone else—Alexis—but it's clear from what Chelsea did to Michelle that she was always going to do something monstrous with it. But you're left with the feeling that, even by trying to make things right by releasing Alexis and rescuing Michelle, you've somehow made them worse. Now four people, not just two (or three, if you count Caleb) know about the grimoire and what it can do, and they're not all of them friends with each other. You're not sure that any of them (including Caleb, considering how he used your face to attack Gordon and Chelsea) are even friends of yours. * * * * * You're still swimming murkily through these dark thoughts when your phone chimes with a text from Michelle: come pick me up? You send a brief acknowledgment, and clamber into her car. She's waiting out front of Alexis's when you drive up, but instead of climbing into the car she gestures you to park and get out. "We want to talk to you," she says as she leads you to the front door. Only with great effort do you prevent yourself from asking, like an idiot, You mean you and Alexis? You pass Mrs. Lachance on the stairs as Michelle leads you up, and it feels very queer to be introduced to her after spending a night in her house while pretending to be her daughter. It's also very strange to be back in the house, as yourself, after the adventure last night. Alexis is in the game room, sitting on the leather sofa under the window with her legs tucked under her. She is still looking fragile, but she does look stronger. And she gives you a very direct look as you come in. "So," Michelle says as she relaxes onto the sofa next to Alexis. You look around, and pull up a stiff-backed chair from one of the game tables. "Alix and I were talking about what you said. About giving her a little vacation." She emphasizes the last word so that you can practically hear the scare quotes that surround it. "Do you still want to do that for her?" Even though it was your suggestion, you still feel shocked by the question. You look over at Alexis. Her eyes are very bright—almost unhealthily so, you think. They have the unwinking brightness of someone who is very desperate, or very afraid. It takes some effort to tear your glance away from hers. "Well, the thing is," you stammer, "I don't think Chelsea would go along with it." "Would Chelsea go along with what you did today?" Michelle asks with a calm bluntness. She point to herself and to Alexis. You have to shake your head. "Then why does she have to go along with what you could do for Alix?" What I could do for Alexis? you almost blurt out. Then you think, That's right. I've got the grimoire and I've got the supplies. I could do it without Chelsea knowing. Except— "Except that if Alexis pretends to be someone else," you point out, "who pretends to be Alexis? I mean, there's one obvious answer," you continue, interrupting Michelle, who has opened her mouth to reply. "Chelsea is expecting me to be Alexis." You cast a very nervous glance at the girl in question. "But I don't think you want me doing that anymore." "There's a simpler way of handling things, don't you see?" Michelle says. She stares at you until you shake your head with bafflement. "Get rid of Chelsea," she explains. Get rid of Chelsea? The words seem meaningless. "What I'm talking about," Michelle continues, "is doing to Chelsea what she did to me. What you did to Alix." Your jaw slackens as her suggestion now becomes clear to you. "One of us becomes Chelsea," she goes on. "Or we just make her into one of those zombie things, like you said you did with me." She glances back at Alexis, who is still watching you with a glassy brightness. "Then we don't have to worry about what Chelsea thinks. And she'd deserve it anyway, don't you think?" Next: "Counterstrike!" |
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