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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Shedding and an Unshedding"  The part of you that is used to being Yumi Saito feels nothing as you pull the panties on and snap the white, butt-hugging shorts about your waist. The part of you that is more used to being Will Prescott has to choke down a shrill squeal of delight. A long, trickling tremble, like a stream of cold water, runs down your back. You get the bra and sweater on, then sweep everything else up before yanking open the bathroom door. Chelsea, who is seated on her bed with her cellphone, jumps up. A manic grin spreads across her face, and her eyebrows arch. She looks much taller, now that you're much shorter. The words pop out of your mouth before they're fully formed: "You look like a psychotic munchkin." Chelsea's face falls. "Will?" she squeaks. "Yes, it's me." You grimace as you drop your book bag. "Sorry. It just came out. It's just what Yumi would say. Except," you continue in a grumbling undertone, "she wouldn't say it, probably, and I'm not used to—" Chelsea squeals. "You mean you know what she'd say? What she thinks?" "Sure." You eye your colleague warily. "That's what the masks are supposed to do, right?" Chelsea jumps forward and grabs you. Her hand is like a vise. "So you've got—? I mean, everything that she knows? You know it too?" "Like I said. I can even—" The words seem to hang behind in the air even as Chelsea yanks you onto the bed. "This is awesome, it's just what I wanted! I want you to—" "Chelsea!" Her face freezes. "Look, I can't stay," you tell her. "I need to get home—" You do, too. You've got homework now, and a mother and father that watch to make sure that you get the homework done. Yumi wasn't finished when she told them she had to go out to meet a friend. And besides, you're suddenly a little shy around Chelsea. You're seeing her with Yumi's eyes, and though you're not sure what you see, it makes you nervous. "But first I've got to meet with, uh, that guy who left here a few minutes ago." You start pulling on your socks. "I got some things I need to explain to him." "Like what?" "Like who I am and what's going on. He's way out of date." "What do you mean?" "I mean he's out of date!" You pull on your shoes, which are very small, but so are your feet now. "Like, he still thinks it's September! He doesn't know what day it is or what's going on at my house or—" "How come?" "Because—! Look, it's hard to explain. But he's waiting for me at Starbucks now. If you want to talk we can ... Well ..." Yumi has as little to do with Chelsea as possible. You remember getting her text this afternoon, and then the phone call when Yumi temporized, and the get-together with Cindy and Jessica and Eva to talk about what Chelsea might possibly want to talk about. Those girls are probably waiting breathlessly for Yumi's debriefing on the meeting. You do a double-take at the hungry expression on Chelsea's face. "I don't know when we can talk," you say as you stand up. She grabs you again. "But we have to, Will! That's the whole reason I—" Then she claps her mouth shut. A chill goes down your back. "The whole reason you what?" She turns coy. "Look, I said you should do this because it would help you with Lisa. But I figure it could help me, too, you know!" Her voice rises to a near shriek. "You've got all day, you know, you've got all of Yumi's life to spend it with your ex-! Can't you give me, like, just an hour or two?" "Sure, I told you we can talk." You're suddenly desperate to get away. "But I can't right now, because— And you know it would be weird. All of her friends think it's weird. They all think it's weird that you invited me, er, Yumi out to your house." Chelsea's eyes freeze. "Really?" "Yes. We're not friends, Chelsea." The sentence sounds like a hammer blow. "You and Yumi, I mean, you're not." Chelsea's eyes brim with tears. "We're not?" she squeals. "That's a horrible—! Oh, wait." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "You're right, I forget who I'm talking to." She takes a deep breath, and all the distress is gone from her face when she looks back up at you. "But we really need to get together, Will. Tomorrow, if possible." "Why, where's the fire?" "I don't want to waste time. You have a free period, a study hall or period you can skip?" "Yes. First period." She frowns. "That's cheerleader practice! Oh. Ha ha." She makes a face. "But I'm serious—" "Second period, maybe," you say. "Or fifth? That's my lunch." Chelsea thinks. "Second period. Up in the loft. Oh!" She squeals again, and hops up and down on the bed. "This is going to be so great! We'll—!" "Bye, Chelsea." You turn to flee, and push and push at the bedroom door before remembering that you need to pull to open it. Chelsea follows you out. "Bye! It was so awesome a time we had! Can't wait to have you back!" You pull yourself firmly from her clutches as you stumble out the front door and run for your car. * * * * * The gangly high school senior who is currently answering to the name "Will Prescott" is slouched in a corner of the Starbucks when you arrive, but he perks up when you come in. You ignore him, though, and order a cafe misto at the front. While waiting for it, you try to think up how to talk to him. Nothing comes. You settle on a "Hey there" and a smile when you finally approach him. "Haven't seen you since—" "I think I know you," he blurts out. His stare is very hard, and very puzzled. You stop dead. "Uh, sure you know me, Will. My name is Yumi." "No, I mean I think I know you from—" The tendons in his neck pop out as he grimaces. "Did I see you in the bathroom at Chelsea Cooper's place about an hour ago?" he asks through gritted teeth. "'Cos it sure feels like—" Your jaw drops, and you narrowly miss dropping your cafe misto with it. "How did you know?" You put your fingertips to your face, half expecting to find it melting off your skull to reveal your real face beneath. "Just a funny feeling I got," he mutters. He crosses his arms tightly. "I am so fucking confused." You sit down and take the cell phone from your purse. That's right, you have a purse now, and a cell phone with stickers on the back of its protective case. You examine yourself in the screen. It's Yumi's face alright, with no hint or sign of anyone else beneath it. "Okay, that's something confuses the fuck out of me too," you tell him as you put it away. "How you recognized me. But you know it's me? From the bathroom earlier?" He nods. "Well, here's the thing. I'm really Will Prescott." "Awesome," he says tonelessly. "I guess that makes me Yumi Saito." He's so unattractive when he gets sarcastic, you think. His face gets all scowly and petulant and his voice whines. A shave and a haircut and some better clothes would help with the sophomoric looks, but until he fixes his attitude— You almost jump out of your chair. Is that what Yumi thinks of you? Think about something else think about something else! "Okay, let me explain what's going on," you tell him in a shaky voice. "Do you remember finding that crazy book at Arnholm's, and how you sold it to Caleb, and then one night he came over and asked you to put this metal band on your head ...?" * * * * * You give him his biography, which is mostly your biography, explaining what he is and how Caleb made him, and how you, the real Will Prescott, got dragooned into helping Chelsea and how that led to ... He is looking rather aghast when you're done, but he's got a much brighter light in his eye. After going over some of the details again, he asks a question you're delighted to hear and delighted to answer: "But we're on the same team, aren't we, uh, boss?" ("Boss" because you'd explained that he has to do what you say.) "Yes. Absolutely!" "And when you find out about Lisa, and what she thinks—" "I'll tell you everything I find out," you blurt out. Internally, you wince as you're battered by Yumi's own knowledge of the situation. Will (how weird, you're going to have to get used to thinking of him as "Will") brightens at that. "What do I have to do about Chelsea?" "Nothing, I think. Lucky you. You're, uh, just supposed to keep my place warm while I— And that reminds me," you mutter, and scramble for your purse. "I have to get home real soon." "Yumi has a curfew?" Will jeers. "So do you," you retort. He shrugs. After cleaning up your table, you accompany him out. As he gets in the truck—your truck, but for now it's his—you give his face another look. It still looks twisted and evil, but somehow "right" at the same time. Only then does it occur to you that you're seeing your real face when you look at him. You're used to seeing your face in a mirror, so no wonder it looks strange when seen straight on. You get in your car, but before driving home you send texts to Cindy and the Garners, for their texts to Yumi have been piling up: Sorry phone got turned off nothing to say just chelsea beingweird tell u more tmorow. Then you turn the motor over and drive home. And while you drive, you find yourself wondering: How long is this impersonation for? Because you don't have to talk to any of Lisa's friends now to discover that you never even had a chance with her. * To continue: "Post-Swap Hangover" |
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