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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Hangovers"  Barbara warned you that people would be talking about you at school, but only thrice did anyone say anything to your face. The first was Keith, who smirked heavily at you in second period and asked how your Friday night was; you told him it was fine, that you went to a party. He followed up with a lot of clumsy innuendo which you pretended not to understand. Then, in fourth period, Mike Hollister shouted over at you that the "video" of "Friday Night Lights" with you and Stephanie was the best thing he's seen so far this year. Aghast, you turned to Caleb, who shrugged. So it was left to Carson Ioeger, in sixth period, to confirm that someone shot cell phone footage of you and Stephanie fumbling all over each other and posted it online. But his only comment was that they caught you at an "unflattering angle." * * * * * So that's a low point, but there's no more ripples or waves from Maggie's party. Though you exchange a couple of nods in class with Stephanie, neither of you speaks to the other, and none of Stephanie's friends pokes you online again. Sean tells you of no more parties—homework or otherwise—and when Friday comes and you ask if there are any going on, he only sighs and says that there must be, but he's got other plans. "Besides," he grumbles, "too much chance of running into cocksucking assholes at some of them." Still, maybe it counts as an aftershock that, out of nowhere, you get a text from Laura MacGregor—a girl you used to hang out with a lot your freshman and sophomore years, but who you've lost touch with since—telling you that the drama department is putting on a school play on Saturday night, and that she's in it, and asking if you're going to come out to watch. You've never been to a school play, and it's something to do, so you get directions and instructions and make a point of going out. You even get dressed up a little, to the extent that long pants and a nice, long-sleeve, button-up shirt constitutes "getting dressed up." The play is called The Man Who Came to Dinner, and it's a comedy about some crotchety old bastard who rolls around stage in a wheelchair insulting all the other characters. There's a couple of funny lines here and there, but mostly it feels like a over-long sitcom, and you're restless long before it's over. Part of the restlessness, in truth, comes from having to endure the cast. Charles Hartlein, the snotty and very out-of-the-closet president of the Drama Club, plays the main character, and since the character is just as snotty and snide and mean-spirited as the guy playing him, it's all too much of someone you can barely endure in real life. You're also embarrassed when Laura comes on stage. Not because she's bad—her acting seems to be pretty good, from what you can tell—but because she's gotten a lot more, mm, chubby since you last saw her, and you wince when you think about having to go backstage afterward to see her and reconnect. But the big surprise of the performance is that Sean is in it. Oh, it's not a big part. He plays the son of the man whose house has been invaded by the acid-tongued cripple, and he's onstage for only a couple of minutes, and has hardly any lines. But that's another thing to dread after the curtain falls: seeing Sean and asking him how come he never mentioned that he was going to be in this play. In fact, it's all awkward enough that, when the curtain finally crashes down, you rush from the auditorium and run for your truck. Thirty minutes later, when you're safe at home, you text Laura back with a very thin story: You got a message to come home and had to leave before the show ended, so you couldn't come backstage to see her. You do make a point of telling her that she was great, and quote some of the bits of business and lines that she had so she'll know you really were at the play. She seems to buy your story, though, and says that she's glad you had a good time and wishes you could have stayed to the end. To Sean, you say nothing. * * * * * Monday afternoon. You feel as though you're taking your life in your hands as you go up to the second floor of the small office building on the Salopek lot. The door to your dad's office is open, but you stand to the side and knock without looking in. "Yeah!" your dad's voice floats out. Only then do you peek around the frame to look in at him. He's at his desk, in his shirtsleeves, up to his elbows in file folders. He looks at you over the top of his glasses. "What's wrong?" he asks. "What? Nothing!" you protest. "Did they send you up here?" "For what?" "I don't know, Will! What do you want?" You gulp, and almost run away. You'd forgotten how short-tempered he could get when stressed. But if you said, I'll talk to you later, and ducked out, he'd probably get even madder. So, hurriedly, you tell him what's on your mind: "I was talking to a friend at school today, and she said her dad is looking for part-time workers at his store, and she asked if I'd be interested, and I said I might be." You gulp. "So I wanted to see if you'd have a problem if I quit working here and took that job at the other place." Your dad stares at you as you try to catch your breath. Then, after a short sigh, he says, "Can we talk about this at home, over dinner?" "Uh, sure." "You sure? It's not so desperate you had to come up here in the middle of work to talk to me about this?" You mumble something about, Well, as long as we were both here. "We'll talk about it later, Will. Can you close the door on your way out?" Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chide yourself on your way back down. Why didn't I wait? Probably because you can't wait to quit working at Salopek. Sure, it hasn't been that bad, not when it's just you and Sean doing work. But anytime your dad comes around— Well, it was like last week. There had been a break-in overnight. Someone forced open the security shutters on one of the storage units and busted through the windows. You and Sean had to do an inventory to find out what was taken, and also clean up the wreckage. But damn it to hell if you could find anything missing. And when you explained that to your dad—who had taken charge of the situation—he got pissy with you because he thought you must not have done the job right. Obviously, he thought, something must have got taken, and if the inventory sheets said there wasn't, then it wasn't a problem with the inventory sheets it must have been a problem with the guys conducting the inventory—you! So the job itself isn't awful, but you don't want to have to deal with your dad. And that was what made you take notice when Stephanie gestured you back into the hallway after Astronomy with her job offer. Her family owns a furniture store downtown, she said, and they need to replace someone who quit. The job does require some muscle—there is a lot of furniture that gets moved around—but she explained that it doesn't call for the physique of a football player, and that they've got plenty of guys around already who can move the really hefty stuff. But they definitely do need another pair of hands. And I'm out there a lot, she added as though that might make a difference to your decision. And it does, a little. If it wasn't a job with Stephanie's family's business, you probably would have stuck it out at Salopek. But over the last week you've found that you kind of miss being able to talk to her. And it sure is flattering that she should have thought of you when the job opened up. So you told her that you'd talk to your dad about it. If only you'd had the sense to wait until tonight, at home ... You're not watching where you're going, so you as you round a corner you bounce off the person coming around it from the other way. You mumble an apology, then do a double take. It's Scott Bickelmeir. His eyes widen, then lower when he sees you. "Oh, hey, Will," he mumbles. He knows my name? you think in some shock, and so don't answer him until he asks if your dad is in his office. "Uh, yeah," you say. "But I think he's busy." "Well, I won't bug him long," Scott says. "You know, I used to work here." "Yeah?" "Yeah. I want to ask him to, uh, be a reference for me. For my next job." "Oh. Well, good luck on that." "Thanks. I'll, uh, see you around." Then, as though suddenly embarrassed by his presence, he hurries off toward the stairs. A few minutes later, in one of the work bays: "What happened to you?" Sean asks as you come in. "Huh?" "You look like you got a shock." "Oh, it's nothing," you stammer. "I just ran into someone who I wasn't expecting." "It wasn't one of your teachers, was it?" "No." Although it's not a bad guess; how horrible would it be to have met Mr. Walberg or Mr. Hawks on his way up to see your dad. "No, it was Scott Bickelmeir." You shoot Sean a worried glance. The smile drains from his face, and his expression hardens. "I'll be right back," he mutters as he brushes past you. "Sean!" "Just get into your coveralls, Will. And don't follow me! This has nothing to do with you or— Or anyone!" Next: "Some Explanations for Odd Decisions" |
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