%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Some Talk Over Tacos"  Number Five is fast about getting his report to you, and you read and digest it long before you go to bed. The marijuana market at Westside turns out to be a lot smaller than you (or Kim) would have imagined. He confirms that Gary Chen has a near monopoly on the trade at Westside. Chen buys the same amount each month (nine ounces) from an outside party (who, and at what price, Chen won't tell anyone), most of which he himself sells. But he sub-deals to George Mendoza, Tanner Evans, and Joe Thomason, selling them each three-quarters of an ounce a month at a profit to himself but at a discount to the market price, and he would outright give three-quarters of an ounce to David Kirkham to use or sell as he saw fit. Number Five estimates that there are fewer than two dozen students at Westside who are regular customers of Chen's, almost all of them in the senior class. You reply with questions: Why did Chen give Kirkham free weed? Do the football players buy from Chen, or is there another source? Does Chen sell weed to Kelsey Blankenship for her weekend parties? And is Chen's operation about the size one should expect? To you, nine ounces hardly seems like something the administration should worry much about. These questions provoke a near Niagara of words from Number Five. The football team: It was Kirkham's understanding that they score their weed through the Warehouse. This maddens Chen; as he told Kirkham, he was supposed to be the exclusive supplier at Westside. Kelsey Blankenship: Wouldn't Number Four have a better answer? (So you DM her. She tells you that Kelsey got the weed from Martin Gardinhire, and didn't ask where he got it from.) Why did Kirkham get free weed? Number Five can't say for sure, but Kirkham acted like it was part of an implicit bargain. He made no trouble for Chen, steered business his way, sometimes acted as an enforcer, and helped "incentivize" (Number Five's word) the sub-dealers to move their product. In return, he got a little weed to deal on the side at pure profit. And as for the scope of the operation? Number Five prefaces by telling you he's going to answer as Kirkham would have. Gary Chen, he says, is a scared, lazy, dumbass shit-for-brains. There's at least five times as much money to be made at Westside as he's making, but he's too much of a chicken-shit to go after it, so he sticks to the same few senior-level stoners. He won't even try talking to juniors or underclassmen, and he too often scares potential buyers off. Chen's attitude (Kirkham felt) is that of a salesman, not a businessman. He's given himself a quota (nine ounces) and that's what he moves, not an ounce more. Kirkham was Chen's friend, but he was contemptuous of Chen's ambition and ability to sell inside the school. He would occasionally try telling Chen how much better he could do, and how to do it, but Chen would only tell him to fuck off. Chen is fucking up a potential goldmine, Number Five concludes. That's all very interesting, and you ask him to sketch a business plan for expanding the trade. You also ask him to find out where Gardinhire gets the weed for Kelsey's parties, and to discuss whether Chen should be replaced with a duplicate, so as to bring the trade directly under your team's control. Number Five promises to have answers for you by Thursday morning. * * * * * Wednesday is even calmer than Tuesday on the social front, possibly because there have been no new bursts of speculation about Kim and Steve Patterson, and maybe also because last night you asked Number One to dedicate herself and her friends to tamping it down. Good idea, boss, she replied. It's giving Steve too much cred. Chelsea would hate it and wouldn't want to lose face in front of Kendra and Gloria. Before your third-period study hall you go in search of Will Prescott at his locker. He does a little double-take, which makes you realize how long it's been since you've seen and talked to him. "I've got a little job for you," you tell him. "I'd really appreciate it," you add with a secret smile. "Whatever you say, uh, boss." "Cut out the 'boss' shit," you murmur. "You want to do this for me because I'm Kim Walsh, and you think I'm adorable." He blushes to his roots and looks away. You hike your pack into your arms and unzip it, pulling out a baggie that contains some small chisels, a strip of metal, a piece of paper, and a key. "I copied down some runes for you, the ones we need to make those memory strip things," you tell him as you hand him the bag. "Carve them onto the strip, and have them ready to give back to me tomorrow morning. Or tonight, if you can manage it. You can go out to work in the basement if you want, that's what the key is for." "Sure thing, uh, Kim." He glances around. "What's going on?" "We're getting rid of people and putting copies in their place. You know. I've got a couple of new ones to tell you about. Try to get this done by—" "Six o'clock." "What? Can you have it done by—?" "Hey Kim," a voice sounds behind you, and you jump and wheel. "Whoa," Keith Tilley says. "Did I scare you?" Will says, "You'd scare anyone with that face." "Yeah, it's so pretty it scares me sometimes too. It scare you, Kim?" Tilley waggles his eyebrows at you. You stare at him, then frown with liquid concern. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, Keith, are you still having trouble with Seth?" His eyes widen and his expression freezes. "What do you mean?" "She means, dipshit, is Seth still taking your underwear and running it up the flagpole?" "Oh my God!" You cover your mouth. "He didn't really—!" Keith flips Will off over the top of your head. To you he says, "Oh, yeah, sure, Javits gets frisky with me, but, you know, it's all just fun." He shrugs. "You know. Guys razzing each other." "Hey Seth!" Will shouts at someone off behind Tilley. "If you're looking for Keith—!" Tilley jumps and spins like a lathe, and is flushing a deep crimson when he turns back around. "Very funny," he sneers. "No, seriously, don't you see him?" Will waves to someone, then points to Keith. "I got to get to class anyway," Tilley snarls. "I'll see you at lunch, if I still feel like fucking you up," he tells Will as he brushes past. "That was fun," Will chortles at you. "Hey, is Javits one of the guys we're going to— Uff!" A hand shoots out from the crowd and shoves Will against his locker so hard that he bounces. David Kirkham slides in and grabs your replacement by the throat. "The fuck are you making all this noise for, Prescott?" he hisses. "It not loud enough out here for you, you gotta go yelling? Some of us got migraines, motherfucker, and you know what they say about misery loving company." He rabbit-punches Will hard in the gut, and your doppelganger folds up with a grunt. You are tempted to say something to stop it, but decide that it's karma for the way he was jerking Tilley around. * * * * * You are in the office after school when you are interrupted by Mr. Staufford, who leans in to ask if you have anything new to tell him about "that thing I asked you about." You hesitate, then crook your finger. He steps into the conference room and pushes the door almost closed behind him. "I've done some asking around," you tell him, "and as near as I can tell, there's only about twenty students on campus who are, um, buying anything." He snorts. "There's more than that number on the football team." "Well, that's a separate thing, from what I've heard. They get theirs from, um, outside the school. Are you from Saratoga Falls?" His eyes narrow. "No, I'm from Maryland, originally, but I've heard about some of the hangouts around here. You're saying that's where most of it comes in from?" "That's where the football guys get it. There's hardly anyone else on campus who, um, buys." "Someone's feeding you a line, Kim. I can count—" But then his gaze goes distant, and he frowns. "I'll have to get back to you," he says. He looks pissed off as he opens the door and steps out of the room. He bumps into someone and mutters an apology, then disappears down the hallway. The person he bumped into does a double take at you. "Hey Kim!" Jack Li exclaims. "Are you running things up here now, too?" There's something very warm and relaxing about Jack Li's grin. When he smiles, it's like you feel relief. "Oh God, I hope I never have to run this place." You giggle. "What are you doing up here?" "Waiting for some friends to get outta theater practice. We're going to the dog park." "Who owns a dog?" "No one." His smile turns sly as he leans against the door jamb and twists a fingernail into it. "It's the college dog park, and the girls say it's a great a place to scope out cute college guys. Wanna come?" You tell him you can't, and he pleads a little before giving up. "Well, I gotta go bug Mr. Sagansky about some band stuff. I'll try kidnapping you later." He winks and leaves. Maybe you will, Jack, you think with a smile of your own, because you just made the list. It's a list you compiled earlier in the day, after polling your agents: We have to duplicate and replace someone with a lot of friends and tons of social contacts. Give me your number one choice.. Two of the replies were for the same girl—Catherine Muskov—but with Jack's name you have five to pick from. Next: "Jumping Jack" |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
