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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Gossip Girl"  Monday brings thunderstorms. You dress for the day accordingly, in a body stocking, jeans skirt, rugged button-up shirt, and jeans jacket, and pull your hair back into a ponytail. Maybe it's your clothes and maybe there's something in your face, but your father over breakfast remarks that you look like you've dressed for battle. There's thunderstorms on the social front as well. There was a major contretemps over the weekend, with a Westside student unfurling a banner that represented the Westside Dragon in the act of dropping a dookie on the Eastman Eagle. Worse was that it was a member of the East-West Club (a trans-school organization meant to foster cooperation between the two high schools) who who did it. And, unforgivably, she unfurled it from the side of the Eastman gymnasium to greet the other members of the Club as they arrived for a Sunday afternoon meeting. But the big crisis (for you, at least) has to be the topic of "Kim Walsh and Steve Patterson???!?!!?" which has blown up dramatically since yesterday. Number Four has dutifully followed your instructions, and when you log in to social media over breakfast you find it all over x2z and in a couple of other places as well. Most of the threads and posts are anonymous, of course, but Number Four herself has waded in under Kelsey's name to defend you from the worst of the dirty speculations. But with Kelsey's usual adroitness she has also managed to feed it a little more fuel by adding a "not that there's anything wrong with it" disclaimer to her defenses, and also airily observing that Steve would be a real catch for someone like Kim, because no one would expect someone like Patterson to give Kim a second look. Well played, Number Four, you think as you munch your morning granola. Now that I see Kelsey's old skills in undisguised play, we'll have to figure out how to use them for our purposes. Word has bubbled up far enough that Number Three himself has dropped a query into your x2z DMs (which are otherwise suspiciously empty), asking about the drama. You reply that the rumors are being spread on your orders through Number Four (a.k.a. Kelsey Blankenship, newly replaced), and that he is to handle them "in character." But stay away from me today while I study the reaction, you tell him. He replies with a thumb's up. And the reaction hits you in the face almost as soon as you arrive on campus. It starts with Deanna Showalter, loitering on the edge of the student parking lot, whose face lights up like the Jumbotron in Times Square when she sees you. Inwardly you flinch, for Deanna is a notorious gossip, but Kim is skilled at hiding her reaction, so you just smile and offer her a neutral greeting as she runs up. "Oh my God, Kim!" she gasps and hugs you. "I just heard!" "Heard what?" you ask, taken aback and wondering if something genuinely awful has happened. "I mean that thing at Eastman! What a mess!" "Oh!" you exclaim in some relief, for that's not what you thought she'd be upset about. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding." "But the East-West Club does so much good! I mean, if this thing blows the club up—" "Oh please, it won't do that, Deanna!" "So what are you going to try to do about it?" "Me?" Again, you're taken aback. "I'm not in the East-West Club." She gives a start. "You're not? I thought—! Oh, well, you're still student council president! I mean, this is something that, you know, I think you should—" "I think I'll leave it to them. It's their club." Then she squeals. "You know what I was thinking? This could be the perfect way to bring the schools together, like, with some kind of demonstration of, um, solidarity? You know how the girls' soccer teams had that exhibition match last month? What if—?" She dances excitedly in place. "What if we set up something like that with the basketball teams? The boys' teams! Just to show that, you know, they're rivals and all, but they're all friends and stuff, right?" Her expression turns sly. "You could talk to Gordon and ... Steve? ... about it, at least?" Oh, Jesus, you think. So that really is what this is all about. "I think I'll leave it to the East-West guys," you repeat. "But I'll pass your idea along if I wind up talking to one of them." "Oh, you know everybody, Kim," Deanna says. She accompanies you into the school, prattling all the while. * * * * * First and second periods are a different kind of ordeal. First is a basic Journalism class that Kim signed up for because she needed a Vocational credit, and because it is mostly populated with freshmen and sophomores, which gives her a chance to meet and connect with underclassmen. But it also contains Joshua Call, a hard-faced, hard-bodied creep with wiry hairs on his forearms, and black hair that lays flat on his head and shines like an oil slick. He does nothing but stare at her, and she suffered all summer long during her job at Walmart because he worked at the store too. Once, he even followed her out into the parking lot after hours, and she was sure he was going to rape her, but instead he gave her this creepy speech in a low, husky voice about how if she ever was in trouble with a guy, she should let him know so he could "take care" of it for her. He skips most of his classes, but he's always in this one, and Kim can always feel his eyes on the back of her head. You can feel them there today, and they feel extra murderous. But Call doesn't say anything to you, even when he follows you out of the room when the bell rings, so closely that he nearly trods on your heels. Second period is even more excruciating. Kim wanted to take AP Spanish IV but there was a scheduling conflict, so Ms. Martinez set up what is technically a "tutoring period" for her and two other students who had similar conflicts, where they could practice their Spanish conversational skills as she half-listened while doing other work during her free period. One of the other students is Phoebe Beauchamp, a sweet and healthy soccer player, while the other is ... Steve Patterson. It was obvious all through September that Steve was more interested in Phoebe than in Kim (which suited Kim just fine), until came the week when Phoebe skipped every second period. Eventually she crawled back (probably because Ms. Martinez insisted) but relations between her and Steve have been cold and correct ever since. So today, even though you and Number Three act as though nothing is wrong, Phoebe watches you both with slit-eyed menace and can hardly keep a polite tone in her voice. You're tempted to pull her aside after class and tell her to ignore the stupid rumors, but you're sure it would do no good. Kim usually spends third period study halls in the office doing school work and studying, but on Mondays she goes into the library to quietly tutor Victoria Rodriguez in Spanish. Victoria says nothing today, but she doesn't have to. Every sentence out of her mouth, and every twinkle in her eye is a clear allusion to what you and Steve must have been getting up to. But it's right before fourth period that the really unexpectedly awful thing happens. That's when Kim has an art class—another class she is taking for a graduation credit, and because it is mostly freshmen and sophomores—and it's just as you're stepping through the doorway that you bump into David Kirkham, who with folded arms is leaning in on Mindy McAdams with a kind of close interest whose nature is obvious. But he does a double-take when he sees you, and steps back to stop you from passing. "Hang on a minute, Kim," he says before turning back to Mindy. He touches her on the arm with a forefinger and murmurs, "I'll see you at lunch." She grins, and shimmying like a snake worms her way over to her spot at a work table. Kirkham then touches you on the shoulder with that same forefinger, and gestures you over a few steps into the corner of the room. "I'm worried about you, Kim," he says in a soft, slithering baritone. "I'm hearing things, and they got me worried." "What kind of things?" you ask in a quavering voice. David Kirkham is the last person you would expect to be worried about anyone—he's much more likely to cause anxiety attacks. He's a sociopathic bully, a hard-bodied coil of mean and remorseless muscle. He is olive-complected with dark hair, and he wears tinted glasses that, even indoors, hide his eyes in a way that seems menacing. He typically rolls a scented toothpick around in his mouth, and he likes to get close to his victims, so close that they can smell the cinnamon on his breath, as he describes exactly what he's going to do them, and how much it's going to hurt. Kirkham doesn't seem to have a special animus for anyone, but he does seem to sniff out and punish weakness merely for existing, and Will Prescott has been a frequent victim. He's close enough to you now that you can smell the spice on his breath, and you can just make out the dark of his eyes behind the tint of his shades, as he speaks. "I'm hearing things about you and an asshole basketball player. Are they true?" You grimace. "What business is it of yours?" "Business between friends. I like you, Kim," he says, "I always have. So I don't like the idea of you getting hurt. I don't like the idea of you being stupid, either. You know that asshole's bad for you. You're not just a piece of tail, which is all you are to him. You're one of the few really special girls in this shithole school." He takes the toothpick from his mouth, and gestures at you with it. "At least, I think you're special." Next: "Stormy Weather, Part 2" |
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