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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Breaking Crisis"  "Amanda Ferguson?" you gasp. "You mean for my, uh, extra person?" Chen's bobs his head, and his eyes disappear as his face rolls up into a beaming smile. "She's in, like, the perfect position for the next stage!" "Which is what?" you ask warily. Chen catches himself, and looks around the Starbucks. He also peers out the plate glass windows to make sure the coast up and down Orlando Road is clear. Then he scoots up, touching his knees to yours. "Okay, so we got the stuff into their lockers, right?" he starts with a girlish squeal. "And I've already got Coach Tesla's permission to kick Eva and Jessica off the squad." "Yeah, they're expecting that. You know you're the number one suspect." He flaps a dismissive hand, then he grabs your wrist. "Wait, didn't they talk to Marc? I mean, after I was there yesterday?" "A little, but Marc didn't want to talk about it. What did you say to him?" "Oh, you know, I gave him a whole speech about how he needed to stay off that stuff for the good of the team. But I also told him I thought it was Erik Carstairs and his friends who did it to him." "Why?" "To throw him off the track! Look, it doesn't matter, I've got something else planned eventually. But I want you to think about Amanda, because I'm going to invite Kelsey to join the squad, and you know how Kelsey and Amanda are close, and with you and Amanda— I mean, you and Yumi and Amanda—" He titters. You finally find your voice. "Kelsey?" you exclaim. "Why are you inviting Kelsey onto the squad? She hates you! Chelsea, I mean," you add more quietly when Chen shushes you. "She quit rather than be on the squad with you!" "Oh, she'll join up if I ask her. Her ego— Tch!" Chen rolls his eyes. "I'd just have to butter her up." "But why do you even want her? She'll join right up with Cindy and Lin and— Oh!" You gasp as Chen looks very coy. "That's why you want me to make a mask of Amanda. Right?" You study Chen's puckish expression. "But it still doesn't make any sense. Why not hold an open tryout, get someone who'll be loyal to you?" "I am! There's going to be two openings, remember? And I'll fill one of them with an open tryout." Chen pats your knee. "Look, don't worry about it. After the thing with Kelsey there'll be another thing and then another thing. It'll just confuse you if I explain everything to you." He giggles. "I almost confuse myself!" You continue to feel doubtful, so when Chen presses you again about Amanda, you turn down the proposition. He only shrugs. "Well, there's lots of other possibilities for you, I guess." He studies his fingernails. And studies them. A frown slowly distends his lips. "I've kind of fallen out of character, haven't I?" "A little." "Uhngh. Well." He shrugs and sighs. "I suppose we should at least talk like I'm in character. We're supposed to be discovering that we kind of like each other." He winks coquettishly. "I told Lin and the others that we were going to talk about Marc." "You did? Why did you say anything?" "I just blurted it out without thinking. I was with them when your text came in. Anyway, I told them I thought you wanted to ask me about Eva and Jessica, and what we all were talking about yesterday." "Oh." His gaze goes distant. "Okay, that works. Yeah! Now we have an excuse for getting together and finding out that we—!" He titters again. "So I guess we should have that talk!" * * * * * As you compare notes, a script evolves. You related to Chen (so the script says) all that Eva and Jessica said, along with your suspicions that Chelsea was behind the frame-up. He told you that was bullshit, and called his three sub-dealers to ask if Chelsea, her boyfriend, any of her cronies, or anyone even related to the basketball team had bought any ganja. The results were negative. Chen then told you he thought it was Erik Carstairs or some of his friends from the football squad, because they had their own supply and he knew they had some kind of a grudge against Marc on account of his girlfriend. When you asked why Eva and Jessica were also framed, he said it was part of Erik's idea of maximizing the hurt. "And then we just kept talking," Chen continues, "and I listened to all of your problems in all of your classes and with all of your friends, and I was really sympathetic." Now it's your turn to titter. "Even when I was talking about Chelsea and what a bitch she is?" "I wasn't paying a lot of attention during that part of it." He smiles tightly. "I paid for all the drinks, though." "How long were we here?" "Oh." Chen consults his phone. "An hour and a half. And when we got up to go, I helped you up—" He stands and puts out his hand to lift you up. "But I didn't hold your hand or anything when we walked out the door together." "Then why do I want to see you again?" you ask when you're both outside. "Because I walked you over to your car, and I told you that if you ever know someone who needs an ass-kicking, to let me know." His voice has been dropping for the past little while, and for the first time that morning you're honestly unsure if you're dealing with Chelsea's personality or with Chen's. "And I said I didn't need or want that," you reply. "Then I said that if Eva or Jessica need me to fuck up someone on account of—" "They don't need that either. I told you that I don't want you doing that to anyone. Can't you figure it out, Ga—? Uh, Chelsea? This isn't the way to impress Yumi." "It isn't?" "No. We wouldn't be in this trouble—Eva and Jessica, I mean—if he wasn't bringing weed into the school. You should stop it." "Someone else would just take over," he says. "Besides, I can't stop. I need the money." "For what?" Chen chews on his cheek—that is definitely Chen's personality—then he slips on his sunglasses and says, "Never mind." "Well, you have to do something to charm me, or how are we going to explain why you and I—?" "You know, I've never spent this much time with a girl without trying to put my hands on her," Chen blurts out. His tone is very blunt. "I never spent this much time just listening to her." He jumps over to lean against the side of your car. "Listening, talking, arguing, helping, making calls, trying to get things straightened out for her. I didn't even do it because I like you. Yumi Saito is a fucking Nip, you know." He leans forward into your startled silence, putting his face close to yours, but with his arms crossed. "So how's this?" he says. "I kept listening and talking and helping, and the more I did it the more I liked it. But I still didn't get it, not until we were outside." He gently pushes you back and opens your car door. "I opened the door for you and you got in the car—" You follow the stage directions. "And I closed the door and you were about to drive off when I tapped on the window." He taps, and you roll it down. "And I leaned in and said, Can we get together tomorrow and do this again?" "You mean, talk about all these problems? We already did." "No. To talk about you. Me. Us. I liked it. I liked being with you." "We didn't do anything, Gary." "So? I still thought I liked you. And I wanted to find out if I do." You smile wryly. "That's not the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." "The municipal library. We'll call it a study date. Besides, I might have some more news for you." "Alright. For that I'll come." "Great." He smiles. "Then that's the script." "That's the script," you agree, and put the key in the ignition. But Chen's hand darts in, and he seizes your wrist. "That's the script," he murmurs as he puts his face close to yours. "But it's not what really happens." * * * * * He is clean, once his clothes with their stench of stale tobacco smoke are off and in a corner of the loft. He is clean and smooth and strong and supple. His skin is stretched tight over his arms and chest and stomach and legs. And his penis is very red as it swells and stretches and points at you. But he doesn't insert it into you right away. He crouches between your spread-eagled legs and strokes you. He strokes your legs and calves first and works slowly up, but he dodges your bush to press higher. Once he's reached your breasts, though, he keeps one hand up there while probing you with the other. Not until you are writhing in an agony of anticipation does he sheath his member, stretch himself over you, and slowly thrust his way in. He pulls you close, and you clench him to yourself, and your cry when you cum cracks and throbs like a frozen ocean that has burst its crust and flooded the ice with tropical waters. He pulls you close after he has cum, and burrows his teeth and tongue into your neck. Later, when you're on your backs and he is pulling on a cigarette, he says, "Jesus. Suddenly I have a lot more sympathy for horny guys. How do you manage? I mean, when you're not being—" He gestures at your face with the cigarette. "Cold showers and old socks," you confess. "Hrnh. Gary can't even do that. He doesn't even have a bed of his own." You prop up on an elbow. "He doesn't? He doesn't seem poor." "He and his family have debts." He takes another drag. "If you made me some more masks, we could solve some of his problems." * To continue: "Debts and Acquisitions" |
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