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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Matchmakers"  Before you and Cindy parted for the afternoon, she suggested that you and the rest of the "Resistance" (as the Garners' Star Wars-addled brother Marc has dubbed you) meet someplace to plot strategy. You thought that was a good idea, and she said she'd arrange it with the others. Not long after you get home, you get a text from Cindy with plans for the meet up. Along about six you tell your mother that you'll be eating supper with friends. "What's wrong with eating with your family?" she demands. She's chopping vegetables for the Saitos' dinner. "Nothing! But this is the only time we can get together tonight!" "To study? Who's 'we'? What for?" Suspicion furrows her brow. You sigh. "Me, Lin, Cindy, and Eva and Jessica Garner." "Hm." Four of the girls meet with her approval. Cindy, for some reason, has always been a little iffy with Mrs. Saito. "What for?" she demands again. "To study," you tell her, and you hold up your book bag. "Cindy and I have Stat homework we need to do, and Jessica has German with me, and—" That gets her to relent, and after pecking her on the cheek you race through the living room to the front door. You're briefly detained by an insolent voice from the sofa. "She bought your shit, huh?" You glare at Mokichi, who has put on his stinky track pants and t-shirt again, even after showering, and is stretched out on the sofa and watching videos on his cell phone while smacking some gum. The hell is it with idiot, college-age guys, like this one and the one you saw at Chelsea's? Aren't they supposed to be off with their friends, playing Call of Duty and drinking beer and talking about boobs? Way down beneath Yumi's frustration, you suddenly yearn to be a college-age guy, off playing Call of Duty while etc. You show him a very long middle finger, expressively mouth Fuck. You at him, and go out the front door. * * * * * "If you'd strike at the king, you'd better kill him," Lin observes as she stabs her fork into one of the three large bowls that the five of you are sharing. "Drown her in a toilet," you mutter, and jab angrily into another bowl. "Jam her sneakers down her throat. Twist her—" "I told you to watch out for her," Cindy says. "I was watching out for her, but—" "We need to peel off two votes," Lin says. "Us five and two more." "We only need a majority," Eva says. "Plus an extra for padding," Lin says. "Because if someone gets scared and backs out—" "Why would anyone get scared?" Jessica says. "It's going to be a secret ballot, isn't it?" "If it's a secret ballot, Chelsea will only get two votes," you fume. "Her own, and the extra one she stuffs the ballot box with." That doesn't get the laugh you expected it would. Lin only says, "We need seven votes if we're going to be sure." "Michelle doesn't like her," Eva says after a thoughtful, moody group silence. "Michelle doesn't like us, either," her sister says. "Michelle doesn't like anyone." "Because nobody likes Michelle," you say. You're cupping your chin in your hand as you say it. "Michelle would vote for Chelsea just to spit in our faces." "We could try being nicer to her," Eva starts to say, but you snort, "Like Chelsea was being nice to me?" There's some inarticulate murmuring from the others, and when you look up you see Jessica staring at the top of your head. Your blood runs cold when the horrible stray thought occurs that a seam in your disguise might be showing. But "Kendra," is what she says. "Kendra is Chelsea's weak point." "She hates Kendra," Lin says. "Because everyone hates Kendra," you snarl. "And Kendra hates Chelsea," Cindy observes. "Because everyone hates Chelsea." "You know Kendra was ready to backstab Chelsea at the start of school," Jessica says, and she gets a knowing expression on her face. "She made a deal with Kelsey." "What kind of a deal?" Lin asks. You and she exchange a sharp glance, for this is news to both of you. "She was going to help pack the squad with Kelsey's supporters. Me and Eva. Kim Walsh was supposed to get picked too. If there still wasn't enough, Kendra was supposed to be the sixth vote that would make Kelsey squad captain. Then Kendra would get to be assistant captain or something like that." "There is no 'assistant captain' position," Cindy says. "There would have been. That's why Kim had to help out. The bylaws for the squad go through the student council, and Kim would get the bylaws changed so Kendra could be Kelsey's number two, and she'd be in charge of the new JV cheerleader squad." Jessica smiles smugly at the consternation that runs around the table. Only Eva's face doesn't show shock. "They were going to make a new JV squad?" you squeal. "Yep. That was also part of the deal, so Kendra could have her own little empire." Jessica smiles over what might have been. Then she makes a face. "But Chelsea got the rules for the tryouts changed so the plan wouldn't work, and Kendra went crawling back." "This is all really interesting," Lin says, "but what does it have to do with—?" "Well, what if we went to Kendra with a deal like that?" Jessica says. "We promise Kendra that if she helps us put Chelsea out and Cindy in, then we'll do that plan." She glances at Eva. "We can get Kim to make the bylaw changes." "That's six votes," Eva says with guarded optimism. "Seven, if Kendra goes to Michelle and gets her to go along," Jessica says. She claps her hands. "I know! She can give Michelle some bullshit story about a 'compromise candidate' coming in so Michelle won't think that by voting Chelsea out she'll be voting Cindy in." "If we tip it to Gloria the night before the vote," Lin exclaims with shining eyes, "we can make it eight to two! Gloria hates Chelsea even more than Kendra does!" "So what if it's eight to two?" you ask. "It'll be totally humiliating! Just Chelsea and Maria voting for her! She'll quit the squad!" "Then we can double-cross Kendra!" Jessica cries. "Five of us plus Gloria, we'd have the two-thirds we need to kick Kendra off!" A babble of voices breaks out. "Then we can dump Gloria!" "Bye-bye Maria!" "Bye-bye Michelle!" There's much laughter. Into the silence that descends, you say, "There's not going to be a better plan. I say we do it! All in favor?" Five, then eight, then ten hands shoot in the air, and everyone breaks out laughing again. * * * * * Two hours later, a complete sketch of the rebel plot is on its way to Chelsea's phone from yours, with instructions to forward it to Gary Chen's phone if it's not Chelsea herself who is receiving it. You feel like a reptile that night when you go in to brush your teeth, and you flash those fangs at yourself. But you don't regret it. Chelsea already told you earlier how grateful she was for all your help. This should cement her gratitude, and make her easier for you to manage. You ignore the clanging klaxon in the back of Yumi's mind: You can't trust Chelsea for anything. * * * * * Friday morning. Starbucks. Gary Chen's Jeep roars up and shuts off with a growl right at your feet. "Babe," he says as he hops from the cab, and his dark eyes flash after he sweeps off his shades. "Thanks for the intelligence last night. Those sloppy cunts ain't gonna know what hit 'em." You feel your face crinkle up. "Uh ... Chelsea?" "Fuck yeah." He holds your eye. Then he breaks into a girlish titter. "Was that okay? I mean, believable?" He wrings his hands. "I think it was believable. Omigawd!" A certain mincing quality comes into his movements as he covers his nose with his hands, and his eyes twinkle. "I think I got it. I think I can do it." "You do?" "Well, mostly. If I concentrate." The grin fades, and he shakes out his limbs. His expression goes taut, and his eyes harden. "Gotta remember who I fuckin' am, though, where I fuckin' been, what my fuckin' business is. Oh, fuck, that reminds me." He digs into the side pocket of his dark cargo pants and pulls out a folded sheaf of green. "Here's my appreciation for what you done, babe," he says as he presses it into your hand. "Buy yourself something nice." Your heart skips when you see it's a roll of twenty dollar bills. "Eep," you say. "Yeah, business is good." He rolls his shoulders. "Could be better, but I gotta kick a bunch of it back to—" He pauses, and his expression turns very grave. "Anyway," he resumes. "What about us? You can't send texts like last night's over to, uh, Chelsea or me. Don't put anything in writing, that's the first rule of— Well ... " His cheek twitches. "So who's it gonna be?" He ticks off his fingers. "Sienna? Katrina? Susie Leka-ooga!" He chortles. "You're right, Lin won't look at me. But don't tell me you want a guy to come between us." You dimple at him. "Give me some possibilities." He rolls his eyes. "Well, there's David Kirkham. Gary thinks that Justin Roth's okay—" "Gary?" you question. "What's with the third person, suddenly?" He blinks, then sighs. "Fine." His voice changes subtly. "Roth's pretty cool, I smoke and roll with him sometimes. Uh, Alex Massey? "Or maybe." He grabs you and pulls you close, and tweaks your butt. "It should just be us." He puts his mouth to your ear and growls. "Face to face and tongue to tongue." * To continue: "Puppet Appeal" |
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