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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Furtive Filcher"  Where the hell has Natalie got off to? you wonder as you stagger back outside. She disappears, you get conked out, Braydon Delp is on the hunt for you ... All the elements come together in an equation to make those in your calculus class look down right friendly. You circle the elementary school, squinting for any sign of Natalie, until you come to the doors leading into the community center. You look inside. There are a lot of cafeteria-style tables set up, some with computers, and others stacked with board games, and you're surprised to see, along the back wall, some old arcade games, like they have at the miniature golf course. But the place is empty, save for a paunchy man dressed in the tan uniform of a security officer, and a middle-aged woman in jeans, a t-shirt, and bifocals. You're about to turn away when the guard calls to you. "Can I help you, sir?" "Um, have you seen a girl around here? A teenage girl," you add after glancing at the woman, who has looked up to study you. "Kinda red hair, freckles?" "No sir." His lip twitches. "Is it your lady friend you've lost?" It's not a funny joke, and you grimace. But the word "lost" echoes in your head. "Do you have a lost and found?" "Yes sir. Did you lose something else? Because no one's been by to drop a freckled red-head into the box." Oh, hardy-har-har. "A book," you mumble. "And a mask. Blue. Looks like it's made out of— And my ball cap." You pat your hair. "These were your items, sir?" "Yeah. Look, never mind." You suddenly feel very foolish, and wonder if you received a concussion when you fell, because you feel like you're acting like you're half out of your mind. "I probably just dropped them somewhere on the grass around—" "I'll come help you look, sir. Even if we don't find your items, maybe we'll find the girl. Or maybe we'll find a blonde who's almost as good." He hikes up his belt and with a raffish grin follows you out. * * * * * All the way back around the building you stammer that you don't need his help, but he brushes your objections aside with "Glad to help, glad to help, it's what they pay us for." But when you come around to where your truck is parked, he starts to lose his humor. "Is this your vehicle, sir?" he asks. "Uh, yes." "Would you mind not parking it on the grass when you come over? There's a parking lot on the other side, near the entrance." "Well, I wasn't— Okay." He walks up and down the side of the building, until he comes to the steps leading down to the basement door. He freezes, and so do you when you look at the top of the door (which is clearly visible) and see that it is half open. A blush of fear runs up the back of your head. The guard goes down the steps, pushes the door open, and peers inside. When he turns to look up at you, every trace of humor is gone from his face and voice. But he continues to be polite and punctilious. "Was this door open when you got here?" "I— I didn't notice." "Why did you park on this side of the building?" "I— I was meeting someone and I knew they'd be coming up this road." You point at the street nearby. "So I—" "And it was around here that you lost your items?" You nod. Your voice has failed, and you feel a crimson blush rising like a sheet of flame over your face. The guard pushes the door open and steps inside. After looking down into the basement and pulling his nose a couple of times, he does a double take at the padlock still dangling off the bolt at the top of the door. He takes it down, examines it, pushes it closed. "Did you look down here for your items?" he asks. "No. I t-told you, I didn't notice the door was ..." Your voice dies in your throat. "Is there any chance your missing girl has your items?" "Maybe." He glances down at your hand, which is clutching your phone. "Do you have her contact information?" "Yeah." You hang your head. "I guess I could call or text her." "That's what I would do." "Uh-huh. Well ... thanks." "My pleasure. But remember, in the future, park in the lot. That's what it's there for." You nod glumly, and climb into your truck. The officer watches as you turn the motor over, back into the street, and drive away. You watch him in the rearview mirror as he descends into the basement again. It's not until you have pulled up in front of your house that you remember that Natalie's dad's car buffer is down there, probably still plugged in. * * * * * It's for that reason that you don't text Natalie right away. You wait a very antsy hour first, during which you text Caleb to tell him you don't have time to see Braydon. He seems vastly amused by that, saying that he's looking forward to seeing you at school on Monday, after Delp has turned you into a newt. But you've got enough things to not laugh about without adding that one. After about thirty minutes you get out your bike and make a slow circuit of the neighborhood, passing the community center a couple of times while pointedly ignoring it, until you've decided that it won't look suspicious if you wheel by the basement door for a quick look. You feel an equal balance of hope and fear as you dismount, even after you see that the door is closed. But both emotions give way to despair when you see there's a new padlock bolting it closed. You glance around, then drop to your stomach to peer in through one of the filthy windows that peep through the grass at ground level, to try spotting the buffer. But there's too much junk in the way to see if it's still there, no matter how you twist or through which window you look. You're terrified that that guard is going to come back and catch you, so you take off for home again. But you stop on a street corner to text Natalie: whre r u wat happnd cant find u? Then, without waiting for a reply, you text cop caut me in basement chased me out door on basemtn lockd new padlock ur dads buffer inside cant get to it. After a few minutes of anxious waiting without a reply, you pedal back home. Both texts are reported delivered, but after a prodding r u there its important goes unanswered for thirty minutes, you call her directly. She doesn't pick up. That's when you start to get worried. Who do you know to call, who might know where Natalie is or might be? There's only one name that comes to you: Gillian Kiefer. "Hello-oh!" she warbles when she picks up. "Will?" "Yeah, uh, sorry to call you—" "Did Braydon catch up to you?" "Uh ... No." "You know he's looking for you, right?" You swallow. "How come?" She laughs. "Because I told him I was with you!" You almost drop the phone. "What?" "Well, I didn't tell him, I got Susie to tell him. You know Susie Lekuawehe? I told her to tell Braydon I was with you. But Susie gets confused sometimes, so I wasn't sure if the message got back to him. He keeps pestering me, but I'm pretending my phone's off." All of this goes right past you. "Have you seen Natalie?" "Sure, at the soccer game. She was with you." "I mean, since then." "No." "Well, I'm trying to call her—" "It's fine to chase girls, Will, but you have to give them space to breathe, otherwise you come off as a stalker." "I need to talk to her! I— Um. I lost something that belongs to her dad." Gillian, whose tone has been as effervescent as helium-infused champagne, instantly sobers. "What did you lose?" "A car buffer. Listen, Natalie knows all about it, but she's not answering my texts—" "I'll get right on it, Will. Oh, by the way, if Braydon does get in touch with you, tell him you dropped me off at the movies. I was going to meet, um ... Aaron and Daniel there." "Sure," you reply, though you've no idea who "Aaron and Daniel" are. * * * * * You text that message to Caleb to pass on to Braydon ("I dropped Gillian off at the movies to meet Aaron and Daniel there"), then sit back to wait. Ten minutes later Gillian texts to say that it's all okay, Natalie got the buffer back to her dad. But when you ask How?!?!, and then text Natalie to ask the same question, you never get a reply from either of them. At a little before six, your dad sends you out to bring home pizza for supper. As you trudge out to your truck, you wonder if you should make some additional stops while you're out. By Natalie's, perhaps. Or by the school, to see if you can break back into the basement. You don't really believe she could have gotten the car buffer back. Or maybe you should forget all about it. Natalie seems weird and flighty. If losing that book and mask is the price to pay for escaping from her unscathed, perhaps it was worth it. Next: "Clearing the Air" |
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