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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Banquet of Babel"  "I wanted to talk to her about Lisa," you tell Caleb. And, as you expected, he loses all interest. "Yeah, what did she say?" he asks, then he quickly adds, "Never mind, I gotta get to class." He scoots past you and into the hallway. And that, you sourly think at his retreating back, is how come I'm not going to say anything to you about what me and Chelsea are doing. * * * * * When school lets out you shadow Caleb long enough to confirm that he's heading straight over to Salopek instead of stopping by his house first. Then you swing around and race over to his place. Caleb and his mom live in a small, dumpy house in one of the more run-down neighborhoods. But it's not the worst part of town, so you are a little nervous about being mistaken for a burglar as you park and trudge the side of their house to the back yard. There's a skimpy wire fence around it, more ornamental than a real barrier, and it bends almost double as you grab it and loft yourself over. There's a birdhouse in the back yard, hanging off the eaves, and when you pry open a small, loose board on its back your finger touches a tarnished house key. With it, you let yourself in through the back door. "Hello?" you call. "Mrs. Johansson?" No one answers, as you were sure they wouldn't, for she, like her son, will be at work. Satisfied that you're alone, you hop down the short hallway to Caleb's bedroom. It is even messier than yours, and you rub your hands with a grimace as you mutter, "Now, if I were my asshole best friend, where would I hide a magical mask of me?" Under the bed? No, nothing there but dust bunnies. Under the mattress? No. Under the pile of books and papers on the desk? No. In the dresser, under the dresser, on a top shelf in the closet, under the pile of dirty clothes in the corner? No, no, no, and (fuck! the smell!) no. Hiding places, where are some of the hiding places he's told you about? There's a loose corner of carpet in the corner behind the bed, but when you peel it back there's nothing but a dirty envelope with a couple of dollars in it. The underside of the desk? That's where he once hid some pornographic paperbacks he picked up in middle school, but there's nothing there now but the old strips of duct tape he'd used to secure them. Ah! Behind the books in his bookshelf! You shift and feel behind the science-fiction and fantasy paperbacks that occupy four rows of a tiny bookcase, but find nothing. Somewhere else in the house? You make a quick search of the bathroom with success, and glance in the small parlor that someone once upon a time had converted from a one-car garage. The sight of porcelain bric-a-brac on some shelves—his mom likes to collect porcelain pigs—gives you start. Maybe Caleb has taken a leaf from that Edgar Alan Poe story he told you about that one time (what was it? "The Raven"? "The Tell-Tale Heart"? "The Giant Cock and the Girl Who Liked to Lick It"?) where the missing thing was hidden in plain sight. You glance around the walls, in case Caleb has mounted it like a mirror, but there's nothing but some family photographs. Your spirits have sunk low when you remember to look in the games closet. There's an old Monopoly game there, and an even older game of Clue, and a few others, but Caleb hasn't secreted the mask inside any of them. Back in his bedroom you slump in his chair and eye the clock. You've got plenty of time before someone comes home, but you need to get back to the elementary school to work on the mask for Yumi. You drum your fingers on the armrest and eye the movie poster he has tacked to the wall. It's a vintage poster of The Goonies, and as your eye travels down it you notice that a tear in the lower left-hand corner has been repaired with a bit of tape. That's odd. That tear is as old as the poster, and Caleb has only ever grunted about it being "not worth it" when you or Keith suggested fixing it. So why did he fix it now? You stare hard at the poster. It's just a sheet affixed to the wall, there's no way to hide something behind it. You get up and pat the poster down. Yes, it's flat against the wall. Wait. Hang on. There's a depression in back of it. Like a hole. Excitedly, you pry at the nearest thumbtack and pull the corner loose. A hole! There's a hole in the interior wall, a big hole too, punched clean through the drywall. The insulation has been shoved aside, and when you put your hand in and feel around ... Down low, so you have to put your arm in up to your elbow ... There's something that feels like a plate. You grasp it with your fingertips and pull it up— Yes! You have it! A mask just like the one that Black and Chen are now wearing! You get a chill when you turn it around and see your name—WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT—floating over the metal band on its inner surface. Caleb, you fucker! Before you pin the poster back down you explore the hole a little more, and shove down the insulation where the mask had been resting, until you can shove your arm in up to your shoulder without touching anything with your fingertips. There! Now if Caleb goes looking for it, he'll just think that the mask slid all the way down the wall to the very foundation. No way will his mom will let him drill or knock a hole in the wall down at the baseboard if he wants to try getting it out! You quickly put back everything that you disturbed, and bound out of the back door, depositing the key in its hiding place and hopping over the fence again. The street is empty as you drive off. * * * * * "Thank God you finally got here," Chelsea mutters as she lets you into the foyer. "I told you it'd be nine-thirty before I got here," you retort. You grin nervously at Mrs. Cooper, who beams at you from the doorway into the family's living room. "I had to—" "Never mind," Chelsea says. She looks back at her mother. "Thanks, Mom! This is Will. From yesterday." "Of course." She beams as she comes in. "How are you?" "Fine, Mrs. Cooper. Thanks." Chelsea's mother looks like a somewhat aged version of her daughter. Short, very fit, with blonde hair and a slightly insane cast about the eyes. "I—" "Will's got the homework assignment we need," Chelsea says as she seizes your wrist and drags you down the hallway toward the stairs. "And Yumi needs to get home." "What are your scholarly aptitudes, Will?" Mrs. Cooper asks as she follows. "Er—" "Math and French," Chelsea hollers back, and you nearly trip as she hauls you up the stairs. "He's going to help us check our translations!" "Merci beaucoup d'avoir aide Chelsea!" Mrs. Cooper calls at you from the foot of the stairs. Then Chelsea pulls you around a corner. "God," she hisses. "I just spent the last hour pretending to be all interested in Yumi." You bang into her as she stops short. "You have all the stuff?" "Yes." "It's ready to go? You don't have to do anything else?" "Well, after we copy her into a mask we have to seal it up—" "But that's all?" Before you can answer, a door opens, and a plainly astonished Yumi looks out at you from inside a bedroom. "Look who showed up, Yumi," Chelsea squeals. "You know Will, don't you? Will Prescott?" "Uh ... yeah." Yumi's reply causes you to flush a little. It's really obvious that she's trying to figure out how in the hell you manage to rate being in Chelsea's house, with Chelsea holding you by the hand. "Will's helping me with a project." Chelsea pushes Yumi aside and pulls you into the bedroom. "You'll love it. Show her, Will." "Actually, I have to get going," Yumi says. The lines around her eyes are either from fatigue or anger. "So I'm gonna—" "She's been saying that for the last twenty minutes," Chelsea giggles. "Just two more, Yumi, so you can tell Will how much you love his, uh, thing." You turn your back on Yumi's raised eyebrows and unzip your bag. You pull out first the mask you stole from the Caleb, then the fresh mask. It's all set to go, and when you turn around with it Chelsea grabs Yumi from the side. "Now, Will!" she shouts. "Now!" You don't know why you blanch at Chelsea's shout, but you do. But that momentary hiccup isn't enough to save Yumi. You jump at her and paste her in the face with the mask. Your palm mashes into her cheek, and then she and Chelsea both tumble to the floor. "God!" Chelsea moans as she wriggles from underneath her unconscious squadmate. "She doesn't look like she weighs five hundred pounds but I swear she does!" She pushes her hair from her face. "Must be all the rice she packs away in her thighs for the winter." You don't dare point out that Yumi's build is remarkably similar to Chelsea's own. Instead, you just say, "What do we do now?" "Same thing we did this morning with Gary. Ugh. Let's get her in the bathroom, though, in case my mom—" You bend over to drag Yumi by her ankles as Chelsea useless picks up her hands. Somehow you get her into Chelsea's private bath. "Okay," Chelsea says after dropping your book bag onto the tile by Yumi's head, "if I can trust you alone with her—" She snickers. "I'll leave you to finish up." She closes the door, leaving you alone with the girl you're set to impersonate. * To continue: "A Shedding and an Unshedding" |
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