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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Defending the Life You've Made"  "I don't want to take over your life," you tell Gordon. And you mean it. Mostly. Because how much of that reluctance, really, is that you don't want to exchange your life for someone else's, and how much of it is just the nauseating sense of unfamiliarity that comes with being in someone else's place? It's like when you were in the third grade and had to change schools because your family moved into a new district. There was nothing wrong with the new school, and when you got used to it you actually liked it better than your old school. But for the first week you kept thinking, as you sat in the new classroom: This isn't forever. Tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that, I'll go back to my old school. My real school. I'm only here for a little while. It was an absurd thought, and you knew it wasn't true even while you were thinking it. But it was the only way to get through the day, by telling yourself you could have fun because it wasn't a permanent change. If you told yourself the change was for keeps, you would have screamed. You want to scream now. However fun it is to be Gordon Black for a little while, it is frightening to imagine yourself being this way forever. Having a new family and new friends; new interests; a completely different kind of future. It fills you with vertigo. It feels like several minutes as you feel your way through these thoughts. Gordon must be going through a similar process, for he looks as haunted and as thoughtful as you feel. "No, I don't want you taking it over either," he says slowly. "I wanna be there when we win State." "Probably for the rest of your games, too," you say. He starts a little, then nods. "Though I guess we'll see what happens. If you think you can handle Chelsea and my dad -- " That dark look comes back to his face, but without the anger. "How about you stabilize things? Then I'll take over again when you think it's all good. After that, I dunno, we can maybe do a one-off every now and again." It sounds like he's trying to talk himself out of a temptation. Or into it? Even with his head inside yours, you can't tell for sure what he's thinking. There is one potential problem, and since you're too big for him to hurt, you bring it out in the open: "What about Chelsea?" "What about her?" "What do you think I mean? If she's feeling affectionate tomorrow, or the next day -- I mean," you add as he blushes deeply. "I don't think I can just always turn her down, not if she's -- " "You don't have to paint a fucking picture, Prescott." He avoids your eye. "Do what you think you have to do," he mutters. Then he gives you a hard look. "Turnabout's fair play, though. If I can get it on with a girl, I'm going to go for it." "Be my guest," you blurt out a little too eagerly. That earns you a sour look, so you follow it up with a self-denigrating, "If you actually think you can get a girl -- " "I can get one," he says, and lifts his chin. "Don't worry about me." You'd like to laugh, but that would be too much like laughing at yourself. "Well, good luck then. Are we okay with each other?" You put out a hand, and an awkward fist bump ensues. "Alright, this is getting a little gay. Do we wanna talk about what comes next with the book? Call Caleb back in?" "Is he still on the team? Sounds like he wants to quit." "You're going to be hanging out with him, man. Be nice." He shrugs. "Hey, Johansson!" "Ow. Just go get him. And remember who you're supposed to be." Gordon looks thoughtful for a moment, then with a suppressed smile scampers over to and up the stairs. He disappears out the door. The notes for the next spell are laying out nearby, and you're studying the list and tugging at your lower lip when two scrawny boys come tumbling down the stairs. Will Prescott wears a cheerful, crooked grin, while Caleb Johansson looks a lot more wary, and visibly tenses when Will hangs a friendly arm around his neck. "So what's the next step, cap?" Will says. You look between him and Caleb. The scene makes no sense for a moment. Then you realize -- You don't know if Gordon is trying to fool Caleb into thinking he's you, and even if he is, you don't think Caleb is going to for the gag. So you decide to play it neutrally, but with a little more of Gordon's personality than your own. You give the paper to Caleb. "How much is this shit going to cost? Have any idea?" "A couple of hundred dollars," he says, and the wariness in his eye deepens. "Either of you guys have a couple of hundred dollars?" "No," says Will, and sounds dismayingly happy about it. Caleb shakes his head. "I can't get it from Lynch, or from anyone else," you say. "How about you try getting it out of people's lunch money," Caleb mutters. Out of the corner of your eye you see Prescott's face fall. You know why, too, and feel the same anger welling up inside you. The astonishing fact -- which you realize you vaguely felt ever since putting on Gordon's mask, but which only now has come into focus -- is this: Gordon Black does not think of himself as a bully. Yes, he pushes people around. Yes, he puts the hurt on them. Yes, people get squashed when he goes down the hallways. But that's not bullying, according to Gordon. You saw part of it yourself, when you were playing him at school. Anyone who is as big as Gordon Black, and who doesn't pay much attention to where he's going or how he's getting there, is of course going to trample people in the hallways like a behemoth. And when he hauls people off for a beating, it's because they have in some specific way disrespected him or his friends. But he has never taken money from anyone, or beaten anyone for the joy of causing pain or fear. And certainly not so he can take any money off anyone. Well, that's not quite right. Off the top of your head you can think of at least two occasions when he ripped money off someone, but both times it was Carson Ioeger he took it from, and he considered it a "reimbursement" for some damage Carson had done him. So Gordon really resents Caleb's "lunch money" line. You want Gordon to understand that you "get" this. So you straighten up, measure out the two paces until you're directly in front of Caleb. You grasp him by the front of his shirt, and push him back into a bookshelf. "I don't. Take. Money. Offa people," you inform him in a low growl. And just the act of grabbing Caleb has stirred up the black cloud of hornets in Gordon's soul, so that you pull Caleb back and ram him up against the shelf again. His teeth rattle. "I kick ass when it needs kicking." Bam. "And that's all." Bam. "Does your ass need kicking, Johansson?" Bam. "Do I need to fucking teach you -- " "Hey, lay off him," Will says. "It was just a joke." You clench your jaw and let your eyes blaze down on Caleb for a moment, then release him and step back. "Is that what you are, Johansson? A fucking comedian?" "He didn't mean it like that," Will says again. "Come on, guys, if we're all gonna be friends, we shouldn't -- " "Friends?" Your own exclamation surprises you, but it's like a stopper has come out of you. "Friends? Is that what we are? Friends? 'Cos if we're not -- " For a moment your throat constricts, as though a natural reticence has tried to take over and stop you. But the words heave through the blockage, like vomit, when you see Will and Caleb exchange a worried glance. "You think we're not? Hey, look at me," you say, and spread your arms. "Look who the fuck I'm hanging out with. If you think I don't wanna be friends -- " You're not sure where the words are coming from, but they gush forth. "If you think I don't wanna be friends, then tell me you don't wanna be friends with me. Just say so. Fucking say so, you fucks! I didn't ask to join your gay little magic circle, you're the fucks who got me mixed up in it! If I didn't wanna be friends, I'd just take that book you found -- !" It's on a nearby table, in fact. Before the others can move, you grab it up. "I'd take it and drive off, leave you two dipshits to wonder what I was gonna -- " You break off. Your breathing has become labored, and you hate the look of fear in the others' eyes. You shove the book at Will, and bash him in the side of the head as he clutches it to his chest. "But I'm not. You don't wanna be friends with me? Tell me to fuck off, then. Tell me to fuck off!" Gordon Black doesn't cry, not even on the inside. But right now you're feeling all the usual feelings that go with crying. Will's stare is very grave, and very intense. His forehead creases. "I want us to be friends," he says. "Like, you want me to be your friend? Is that it? Or are you gonna be mine, too?" "Both ways," he says quietly, and his gaze is unblinking. You look at Caleb. He looks nauseated. Maybe he's just decided he doesn't know who is who anymore, so he doesn't know who he should be speaking to. But without meeting anyone's eyes, he says, thickly, "I want us all to be friends." Then he adds, with uncharacteristic vehemence: "But without the masks. We should get rid of the damn book." Next: "A Mission in the Dark" |
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